Rochestarians Are So Obviously Not Americans…and Other Thoughts

So I was planning to write this post on the I Love NY Gymnastics Cup, which was held at the good ol’ 70s style Broome County Veteran’s Memorial Arena tonight. I’ve been meaning to go to this for the last three years, and I figured this year, being my last here, would be as good of a time as ever. However, I kind of forgot that I work for a gift and video store, and that there is no way you can’t be chained to such a place on Valentine’s Day. So I didn’t get to go. It’s okay, because the store had a VERY successful day, and I made a lot of money. Yes, I’m greedy. Live with it.

However, seeing that I didn’t get to go cheer on Penev’s (formerly Eastside) Gymnastics, my old gym, I feel like I have nothing to write about. I planned all week to go to this and then write about it on my blog. Call it my good ol’ sports journalistic aspirations. I was looking forward to that just for the fact that I could write it up on the blog. But, I’m going to have to Peter King this entry (no one is going to get that reference at all, I’m sorry) and do a random “Things I Think I Think,” because people actually read this, and I imagine people would like to read a new entry.

So here are my random, somewhat sports related thoughts of the week:

-Mike Malarkey looks like Kevin Costner. I discovered this while watching Sportscenter on Thursday night. I pointed this out to my mother. “Oh my gosh!!! I never thought of it that way! I think I like him now.” I, for one, did not know my mother enjoyed Kevin Costner, but I guess she does. Well, at least Malarkey now has one supporter in Western New York. The rest of us are still weary, including my father, who hates anything having to do with the Pittsburgh Steelers. The guy HATES them. His hatred is much like the one Red Sox fans hold for Yankees fans. An entertaining thing to do during my adolescence was to watch my father go off on seeing Terry Bradshaw on Fox NFL Sunday. Absolutely hysterical.

-I was at work in the office on Friday afternoon, and somehow I made the following statement to Sean (I forgot how we got to this point): “When I was a young teenager, my dream was to go to Brigham Young University, study journalism, get to cover the 2002 Winter Olympics, and become Student Body President my senior year there. And as Student Body President, I would get to introduce the commencement speaker, who would be Steve Young. Then he’d hire me to help him write his autobiography.”

Wow, 14 year old me would be REALLY disappointed at my life now.

However, I give you this web site. Members of the Binghamton University community, I’d like at least one of my dreams to come true. Please take this into consideration. (I never ever went searching for this information–I was searching the web for some other government stuff and happened upon it. I think that’s a sign.) All I’ve got to say is that if Ithaca College gets Scott Hamilton for what would of been my commencement if I had stayed, I WANT SOMEONE MEGA COOL.

-Rochester, NY is getting to be a horrible place to live. Example #456 would be the murder in front of my father’s machine shop on Friday morning. Uh…Dad, I love you, and I know this is a great job and all, but…I’m not picking you up from work ever. (Why would I have to pick him up from work, you ask? Four drivers, one car. Do the math. If you want the car in the Hasenauer family, you gotta be willing to pick other people up.)

-Yes, I watched Thursday Night Hockey in the Great Room on the Mega-TV Thursday night. And yes, I was rudely tossed out by people who DID NOT BELIEVE I was watching hockey. This is 2004. Girls watch hockey. Last time I checked, my Room fee covered that TV as much as everybody else’s. And I work for Residential Life. So really now people.

But that’s not the point. The point is that I saw Jeremy Roenick shatter his jaw. That was scary. That was “Steve Young being leveled by Aeneas Williams” scary. The puck went flying from the face off, ricocheted off his cheek, and he just dropped to the ice and didn’t move. Yuck. Yet, I still would allow any future children I may have to play hockey.

Marsha thinks I’m nuts. “I can’t believe you’d let your kids play something that violent,” Marsha told me after I was telling her about the injury.

“Why not? If I ever have a son, he’s playing football in the fall, hockey in the winter, and Little League baseball in the spring.” I answered.

“That’s ’cause your American.” she responded.

“No,” I quipped back. “If I were American, it would be football, basketball and baseball. But because I’m from Rochester, NY, the basketball is replaced by hockey.”

-On that tangent, I’m letting you all know now: Sam Hasenauer (my little brother) will be a starter on a Slamball team in 14 years. He likes to play basketball and he likes to jump on the bed.

-And on other Hasenauer family basketball related news, I made a shot from six feet into the wastepaper basket at work today with a flower stem. Uh-huh, I rock. That’s my prime example of senioritis: wastepaper basketball at the store.

-Happy Valentine’s Day. It’s nights like this I wish I had a boyfriend. Or the NFL Network, which one of my friends keeps singing the praises of. Or all my tapes of the Olympics. (They’re in the attic at home.) But really, I made a lot of people happy at work today, and because of that, I’m not at all bitter. People were happy, they had the cutest plans and the cutest stories and the best smiles. I love it.

And I’ve also found that when I’m feeling the need for a boyfriend, the best remedy is to look at my resume. Conceited? Just a little. But heck, I’ve worked my butt off for years. I deserve to feel a little egotistical at times.

I’ve got to get going. Marsha is begging us all to take pictures of her clubbing outfit. I’d join her out, but I’m so tired, one drop of alcohol would put me to sleep. That’s what I get for running around doing deliveries all day. To bed and reading I go!

*****************************

Later: I just had to add this, because I thought it was pretty funny. I wanted to go to bed, but decided that it’s a Saturday night, and I’m 22 years old, so I shouldn’t go to bed before 1am. So I decide to keep myself up, instead of doing schoolwork (which might put me to sleep, and therefore, defeat my goal), I decide to play Madden. So I’m playing Madden (2002 Niners vs. 1994 Niners–because I wasn’t feeling very creative tonight), and I miss a field goal. That’s my favourite mini-camp drill to play, so that I missed it is disapointing. And so I say, “I’m pouting!” After I realize how I’m brooding, I turn to Regina and say, “I’m such a girlie girl when I play Madden.”

And then I thought about what I had just said. I don’t think the creators ever expected that sentance to come out of anyone’s mouth while playing Madden.

(By the way, to further support this theory of my girlie girlness, I went back and did a field goal mini-camp drill and totally screwed up. It’s just not my night with field goals. While I kept missing, I said, “Gosh, I’m going to throw a hissy fit.” I’m so Legally Blonde at times that it’s just not right.)

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