Two days ago I came up with the brilliant idea of having Hollis bullet out the Wings he’d consider setting his mother up on a date with. Roughly an hour later I stole the idea BACK and did the post myself. About two hours after that I decided to inform my mother that all this was going on and her response…predictably…was that I was unqualified to make this decision for her. While I like to think of myself as a man with some backbone, I know this scene typically plays out, so I folded up like a $2 suitcase and handed the reigns over to ma.
I did some basic groundwork and narrowed the list of candidates from the full active roster down to six likely candidates. This was a blatant attempt to make sure she didn’t mistakenly end up in Hudler’s harem, though as Crater wisely pointed out, this would have been the only sure way to ensure she didn’t get scored on for the first seven dates. Smart thinking. Anyway, I then sent that roster to my mother with links to player bios so that she could do some homework. I expected a three-line response from ma containing the following points:
- I’m only doing this because I love you
- This is stupid, but if I have to pick I guess I’ll go with (INSERT WING)
- You are still an idiot
Instead, I got the beginnings of a rant…no…a manifest0. The beginnings of this brilliance are included below. Mom not only picked her likely suitor, she’s done a Hakan Andersson-like player eval, focusing on a million things I never even considered…like the correlation between left-handedness and brilliance (a point I’d argue if I weren’t a left-handed moron) and why blueliners might make a better choice than forwards.
Mom’s first response is included below. As mom did with her children, she’s getting the losers out of the way first (this, coming from the oldest child) and working her way up to the eventual victor (in this family tree analogy, my 15-year-old brother Chase). We’ll try to get one of these up every day for the next week’ish. Responses, including the (somewhat chilling) post title, will be unedited. This is partially because my mom would kill me for tinkering with her work and partially because she’s a better writer than I am (me?) and I don’t want her line editing my shit (or stuff…sorry mom).
Without further delay…
Rob – The only disturbing thing about this new “opportunity” you have given me, is that you felt socially and morally obligated to prescreen the candidates before you sent me “the roster”. I appreciate the animal protective implication of that action on your part, but in the future, don’t do Mamma’s staff work for her. Remember when you stopped letting me proof your term papers in high school? STOP proofing my dating options…… Just say’n. (How do you know I won’t like Osgood, as an example? Maybe I like ‘em a little rough. )
That said, and assuming the aforementioned players are NOT “in play” for the Disch Date of the year award, I’ll focus on the little roster you submitted. I have reviewed their stats and would like to share my assessment of each.
We’ll start with Mr. Cleary. NO and Hell, NO. He’s gorgeous, for sure, but do the math, honey. If I had set aside my determination to be a virgin when I left the University of Illinois, this sweetie could have been MY CHILD. Born 12/18/1978? He’s only 31!!. I must have an ADULT, not some hottie who’s still got training wheels on his 10 speed. Do you know how expensive it is to add a man this age to your Auto Policy? And, he’s a Forward. A FORWARD, who started his pro career at Age 20. This means, he never finished college. Which means he has NO BACKUP PLAN, when some drugged up goalie comes out of the net and clocks him in the face, dislodging whatever teeth he has left and leaving a 6 inch scar on his baby face. No thanks. I used to watch your brother Johnny come off the ice all bloody and wild eyed. I’ve starred in that movie. I did not like it the first time.
In defense of sweet Dan, I do love the fact that he is a lefty, ’cause you know what they say about lefties. No… not that…. Lefties are brilliant! I like brilliant! Dan also knows his way around a good Chicago pizza, having made a living with the Blackhawks for a bit. But that’s just not enough to balance the scales for me. Sorry, Dan, come back when you grow up, Dear.
Next up, tomorrow… Patrick Eaves