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Tag: psychics

Wednesday, March 3rd, 2010

The Arizona Prophecy: One year later.

The Arizona Prophecy is probably the strangest thing to ever grace the archives of this blog, or ANY hockey related blog for that matter. It’s the one event that seemed to really divide my readers between “fans” and haters. Seeing as this is MY blog, I feel like I can write about MY life anyway that I see fit, but I do realize that the subject matter of this overarching subplot was not for everyone. Anyway, seeing as today is the NHL Trade Deadline, it is also the one year anniversary of the Arizona Prophecy and my launching into what you have now come to know as my Carmen Sandiego-like adventures around the hockey world. So, perhaps for the last time, we look at whatever became of the prophecy, and what I did or did not learn along the way.

Here’s a brief summary for those who are not familiar with the Arizona Prophecy. For about two years leading up to the 2009 Trade Deadline, multiple psychics told me that the man I was “meant to be with” had a connection to Arizona. I should probably clarify that I don’t normally take this stuff seriously, but I do attend a couple psychic fairs a year for fun with friends, etc. It struck me as odd that this Arizona Prophecy was coming up over and over again with different psychics. Anyway, around early November 2008, I started having my own unshakable feelings that this prophecy was about to become a reality.

Seeing as I was always a crazy traveling hockey fan, I knew that I wouldn’t be drawn to Arizona unless it was for hockey. But the Coyotes! Really? (Remember they were CRAPPY then!) Even I thought it was an unlikely move for me to make without the right prompting. However, by November that year I started planning my switch to Phoenix if the pieces fell into place the way I was told they would. Less than four months later, they did.

On March 4th, 2009 the stars aligned and the cards fell exactly as the prophecy foretold. I found myself with a major personal decision to make. Should I ignore this massive thing (sign, manifestation?) that was staring me in the face, and go back to my normal life? Or should I do the ballsy thing and feed my own curiosity, and find out what may or may not be waiting for me in the desert? I had nothing to lose. No matter what, I was going to be following one hockey team or another, so I decided to jump the Coyotes bandwagon and see what came of it. I don’t regret making my decision.

One year later, it is not clear if I found “the one” after spending all the time that I did in the Coyotes camp. Of course, I can’t be sure that I haven’t found him either. Like I said, the Arizona Prophecy is one of the major things that contributed to Psycho Lady Hockey becoming what it is today. I have met a lot of great people and have had a lot of opportunities presented to me because of this success. You can never be sure where your connections will lead you – that’s life. The whole experience felt magical, and I’m really not of the belief that the last year was a complete waste. I’m sure things will reveal themselves in due time, but I will admit that, given the electricity of the situation, it was mildly disappointing that this “mystery man” was not just waiting with open arms the moment I touched down at Sky Harbour or arrived at the rink for my first Coyotes game.

The annoying thing about the Arizona Prophecy, which was also the biggest factor in causing me to back off of it in the long run, was the conclusions that jealous anti-fans and obsessive gentlemen jumped to over my “real reason” for switching teams to Phoenix – trying to land a hockey player via stalking. The Arizona Prophecy was never about marrying a hockey player. It was about letting myself move with the universe, fate, destiny or whatever it is, and go with the flow and see what came of it. I was never even of the attitude that love was what I was meant to find even though that’s what I was told was there. I was open to anything. I suppose the confusing thing was that I determined that the Coyotes played into it somehow. It wasn’t necessarily that I was supposed to find one of the players, I just figured that since I was a traveling hockey writer, this person may appear in the process of me writing about my Coyotes adventures. The accusations finally became too bothersome to put up with; I was tired of having to explain and defend myself to strangers. However, my decision to leave the Coyotes only succeeded in facilitating even more rumours of the same variety.

The positive thing about the Arizona Prophecy was that I learned a lot about myself in the process. I learned about what I was capable of as a person and what I wanted in life. A lot of the flack I get is from misguided individuals who assume I’m a puck bunny because I look a certain way. Because of my history studying these types of fans, I am comfortable with myself as a fan and don’t feel the need to try to convince people I’m not this thing that they don’t even fully understand in the first place. The thing is that I have dated hockey players, which could make me a puck bunny in the eyes of the uneducated. But the thing is that I have been very involved with hockey almost all my life, which means that I would be hard pressed to find anyone to date if I automatically wrote off any guy who ever played hockey in my social circle. I think I know maybe two guys who don’t!

Contrary to popular belief, however, the NHL hockey wife lifestyle is extremely unattractive to me. It’s not something I want for myself. One of the things I’ve learned on this journey was that I am an adventuress. I think I will always be looking for my next adventure. The Arizona Prophecy even helped me to get myself on my career path after I finished school. I realized what I needed in my life to be happy: mystery, travel, excitement, drama, change, unpredictability, and danger. I became very sure of myself and where I needed to go. Now, I would never NOT date someone I liked because of what he did for a living (well…maybe a gynecologist…not sure how I feel about that one), but I think about hockey wives/girlfriends laying by their pools all day with their biggest worries being that their implants are starting to sag and that they haven’t tweeted in the last couple hours to confirm to the world that they are still with their hockey playing golden ticket, and I can’t even imagine my life that way. I can’t imagine exploring the world by its shopping districts and spas alone. It’s a shallow existence to be so concerned with your image. I personally can’t even fathom a life this boring, but then again I’m not the materialistic type. So, I don’t really understand the joy someone might get from splashing money around and trying to act like a “rock star.” They obviously get something from it I would imagine.

Like I said, I learned a lot about myself roaming the proverbial deserts of the Arizona Prophecy. I now know that adventure and experiences are the most valuable and meaningful things I think I can spend my life and breath on. That’s not to say that I want a life without ambition. I’m just saying I will be unhappy if I haven’t seen and done everything that I want to in my lifetime. I need constant movement for my sanity. It’s taking everything I have in me right now to keep me from jumping in the car and driving for days with no specific destination in mind.

The funniest thing about the Arizona Prophecy and that whole soul mate business is that, until all the pieces fell into place and I was faced with the opportunity to find this important person, I was never really preoccupied with love. I usually found that dating just kind of got in the way, so it was really an amazing thing that I even opted to give into the predictions and just charge forward looking for someone that I didn’t even know existed. I guess that meant I was finally ready to consider sharing my adventures with another person. However, after twelve months of NHL suites, Ritz Carltons, and front row hockey tickets, I realized that what I really wanted in terms of love was what I started to refer to as the “shack in the woods” element. Essentially, I want the love of my life to be free of the phony superficial bullshit. I want someone who wants me for me ONLY, not what I have or what I do for a living (and vice versa). Someone who doesn’t have to keep up the sham of our relationship by taking me shopping and buying me shoes. But perhaps that’s a bit of a pipe dream. It seems everyone subscribes to these Paris Hilton-type values these days. Sigh.

As for the future of the Arizona Prophecy, I’m not sure that I want to give up on it entirely. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I’m entertaining the idea of taking another sojourn in Arizona (for non-hockey reasons this time) and giving the whole thing one final chance to manifest. Of course, I did consider that maybe all the prophecy was were predictions that just happened to come true; maybe they meant nothing at all. Regardless, I’m feeling that call to adventure and exploration very strongly again. I found out that there is a good chance that I will be moving far, far, far north for work, and I’m really excited about it if I do get this assignment. So, before I disappear into the isolation of the Arctic wilderness, perhaps one last sweep of the desert is in order, sooner than later, before it becomes more than a destination of inconvenience, and my alleged soul mate is lost to the sands forever.

Roll the credits…

(I still can’t listen to Muse without being reminded of driving around Arizona with the top down at night)

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Monday, November 16th, 2009

Anaheim (Day 3): Game Day #2 Preds@Bronze Adoni – A prophetic twist.

Warning: Another LONG and crazy entry ahead!

Is Adoni a word? My spellchecker and my brain say it isn’t. I was trying to invent a plural form for Adonis, you know, the Greek guy. The point is the Anaheim Ducks have this delightful glow about them, and they reminded me of a group of Bronze Adoniseseseseses. I have been referring to them as such since my first game back at the Honda Center this season. But let’s not talk about the game. There are far more interesting things to discuss like the death of the Coyotes, and what is to become of me, my love, and the Arizona Prophecy.

I have to admit that I was beside myself over ditching the Coyotes if not for any other reason but the Arizona Prophecy. I had obviously invested a great deal in this gamble of faith. I dropped everything and went chasing a speedy white rabbit down various bunny holes across the league. If I was so sure about the prophecy enough to put my life on hold the way that I did last March, and nearly screwed myself over in most facets of my life in the process, then how could I just turn away now? It was kind of like that really bad movie that you just can’t walk out on because a small part of you is hoping that there will be a surprise twist at the end, and the film will somehow be worth that $9.95 you paid for the ticket. However, then the screen goes black and you’re left with nothing more than a hole in your pocket where your ten bucks and your dignity used to be.

When I decided to believe the school of psychics and my own intuition and go off on a quest in search of this mystery man, I had to leave the realm of the logical, the plausible, and the realistic behind. I’ve been living in a kind of fantasy world where meaning was drawn from every seemingly mundane dream or happening. While some things seemed clearer than others, I really started to go crazy (particularly this season) with having to sift between the “Divine” and the unimportant. I always tried to keep an open mind. If the prophecy was right, then it may manifest in some strange unforeseeable way. Perhaps the point of all this was not to find my “true love” after all. Perhaps it had to do with this website, the TV show, a job – who knows?

I know this can be both hard to read and believe, especially for those who do not have experience with this type of thing, but I always thought it was an interesting story, especially when you consider that as a hockey addict, my supposed “destiny” would be linked to the game I love. Of course, you skeptics may be right, and maybe this is leading me to nothing more than a very stressful adventure, but I guess we’ll see one way or another. Anyway, that’s why I opted to write about it in the first place because it IS connected to my hockey adventures, at least, right now.

There were various reasons for why I started to grow apart from Phoenix, and so, I decided to try and find a new team, and I came up with the Show Me A Sign campaign in hopes that fans across the league could show me where to go next. Within a couple days, there were whispers coming from Southern California that the Ducks fans wanted to get in on the campaign with a sign of their own. When I heard this everything clicked, and I remembered part of the prophecy that I had forgotten months ago. For over a year, psychic after psychic was telling me about the Arizona boy, but then, just a matter of days before the trade deadline, something change. Now there were two guys, and I had the choice between the two of them. On the one hand, there was the Arizona guy, but on the other hand was a guy linked to SoCal. I had never been to Arizona OR California, so this was strange to me. Anyway, when the switch to Phoenix finally happened, I decided to make a very last minute trip to Anaheim (I booked the flight like twelve hours before takeoff) just in case there was another guy there.

I had determined that the other team was Anaheim because the psychics had mentioned birds and I interpreted that as “ducks,” but, at this point, I’m more than willing to give the Kings a shot as well. Anyway, on that trip last season, strange things kept happening. My flight on Expedia wouldn’t book. Not even the travel agents could get it to work. The problem was being reported as my flight out of Buffalo, so we kept changing the departure (eight or nine times), hoping one of them would book, but to no avail. Finally, the travel agent gave up and told me that I could keep trying on my own, but she was doubtful that it would work. I decided to give it one last try, and of course it didn’t work, but this time something popped up on the screen. “Are your dates flexible? Fly back a day later.” I didn’t think this would matter considering that it was my departure that was the problem, but I decided to give it one last shot, and, of course, it booked. At the time I remember thinking that this was very meaningful. It was almost like I was meant to stay in Cali longer than I wanted to. Normally, on my hockey adventures, I want to get the fuck out of town as soon as the game is over, but in Cali I really enjoyed just hanging out. While my plane was hovering over LAX, this time around, I looked out the window, and I felt like I had finally returned home. Weird.

My flight wasn’t the only strange thing that wouldn’t book last season. I had problems with my hotel and game tickets too. The tickets in my usual sections would vanish before I could buy them. Once again, agents on Ticketmaster, StubHub, and TicketExchange could do nothing to help me. Finally, I was forced to settle for tickets in a crappy section. The weird thing was the SECOND I purchased the tickets, the ones I had previously scouted MAGICALLY reappeared. Again, was I meant to sit in those seats? As a result of me sitting there, the Coyotes ended up driving their first of many very large nails into their coffin of my hate. It was by far the worst game of my life, and I was forced to cope with it by making a horrible life choice after the game…four times…accidentally.

I was feeling the Ducks/Coyotes stress even last season. I was so confused; I didn’t know what to do with myself. While going through my mail one day, I came across a bumpy letter from some food company. When I opened it there were two Stanley Cup pins inside. I was kind of horrified. I couldn’t help but feel a little paranoid that some company I had never heard of knew the way to my heart. I casually brought this up to one of the psychics I know, and she revealed that she had the pins sent because there was a voucher for it in her box of popcorn, and it made her think of me. She told me she thought I would get some “sign” when the pins showed up, and immediately asked me if Phoenix was the one that I got. “Umm NO Phoenix has never made it passed the first round in the playoffs. They’ve never won a cup!” was my response. The teams I did get – Colorado and Anaheim.

Like I mentioned in Day 2, my trip to Avs country was planned in August. My original plan was to head to Phoenix after the game, but the fear of contracting the SWINE FLU was too great, so I decided to trash that idea like the trash that resides there. When I heard about the Ducks fans and their awesome game sign, I thought it would be in my best interest to return to Honda Center since I was already going to be in that “general” vicinity for the Coyotes game at Pepsi Center. The fact that the total additional cost for travel was only $5 sealed the deal. Of course, when I looked at the Ducks schedule, who should be playing in town but the Preds and the Coyotes! The Preds are another semi-ex boyfriend team, and I’m not going to lie, I did cast the odd glare down the ice from time to time. Luckily, I stayed safely nestled and well hidden next to the Ducks bench.

Of course, seeing that Phoenix was one of the teams in town during my visit to Cali, I figured that may be a sign that I wasn’t actually supposed to switch teams. However, the game in Colorado quickly soured any remaining feelings I had for the team. It would take a lot for the Coyotes to get me back, and the graveling would probably have to begin with a written apology addressed to my appropriate station as Ice Goddess. Anyway, I will have more to say about this; particularly, when I talk about the Ducks game in Detroit. I know, I know! I’m so behind on the road blogs right now. It feels like there aren’t enough hours in the day for all the crap I need to do. As it is I haven’t slept more than three hours in the last three days! And on that note *yawn,* I’m going to hit the sheets.

Roll the credits…

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Tuesday, October 27th, 2009

New York (Day 3): Big day, big sign?

Of course it had to rain on what was supposed to be my big day of exploring Manhattan with my friend, Nick. I managed to get myself to Penn station without getting too wet, and quickly bought a good for nothing, red umbrella. The day started off with pizza at Lombardi’s followed by delicious “designer” rice pudding. This stuff was so good, it was like eating warm, chunky ice cream…OK, maybe that description didn’t make it sound overly appetizing, but it was honestly one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth *zing.* I had the Drugs, Sex, and Rocky Road flavour!

After lunch, I wobbled along behind Nick as he showed me the parts of Manhattan that I’ve never seen before, like the Brooklyn Bridge (where we encountered a surly cyclist and it reminded me of home), Ground Zero, the Statue of Liberty, and everywhere in between. Here’s his joke I was going to include in the New York Top 10 that would have gone up today, “Not using a condom with a hooker is like driving through New Jersey in a convertible.” HA!

It was kind of strange that on our six hour excursion, I kept seeing the date October 28th everywhere I looked. On tombstones, on buildings, on the side walk, everywhere. It was to the point that I finally stopped and asked if the date had some significance to the city. He said it didn’t, and wanted to know why I asked. I was curious about it because October 28 is the feast day of St. Jude. We both agreed that this was weird, in fact, getting a look at my medallion was one of the first things he wanted to see when we finally sat down at Lombardi’s.

After coffee we went our separate ways, I was supposed to meet up with Michelle again for dinner at 6:30PM. I had a few moments to spare so I thought I’d run up to my room and try to undo the damage that the rain had done to my hair – I failed miserably in that mission. Michelle texted me because she was running late, so I decided to check up on my “business” emails. When I signed in one of my biggest wishes was waiting in my inbox, which would turn out to be a possible LARGE sign warning against leaving the Phoenix Coyotes.

I had finally received notice that my dream job was pushing me forward in the recruitment process. Last season, as I was nearing the end of my university career, I had to finally sit down and have that internal monologue with myself about what I wanted to do with my life. The obvious ideas were writing and hockey, but I’ve worked in hockey, and the experience was nightmarish, and truthfully, I only like to write about hockey culture. The one thing that really depressed me about entering the work force was having to give up the lifestyle that I had become accustomed to in my hockey operations. Finally, the ideal career for my personality dawned on me and I became determined to get into that field no matter what. When I returned home from the 2009 IIHF World Championship in Zurich, I took the first step in what was promised to be at least a year long, extensive recruitment process. I cannot discuss the job in detail, in fact, I probably shouldn’t be talking about it at all, but let’s just say the last time I heard from them was at the end of July, and I was beginning to worry that I was being weeded out.

So, how does this affect the Coyotes? Like I said, this job is VERY important to me. It is the one thing that I would be willing to sacrifice anything for. If I had this career, I would be content to be single for the rest of my life if it came down to that. I could even see myself giving up hockey. But these people mean business, there is no negotiation. When they say come, you come. My notification was telling me that I was to report to the next stage of the process bright and early in a week and a half for a daylong event of God only knows. If I do not report, then I’m out of the candidacy, which will bar me from reapplying for another year. Wouldn’t you know that the date I have to report is while I am away in the potential new team’s city.

I got on the phone as soon as I got the news, and had to change my travel plans to ensure that I was back in Toronto on time. $200 later… The funny thing was that I knew when I saw the new team’s schedule that I wasn’t meant to deviate from the desert dogs. It was because of this fact that I noted that hitting this city after my Colorado game was a safe bet for me, and that really sold me on going in the first place. I’m not going to jump to any conclusions yet. The Coyotes have yet to redeem themselves to me, and it may end up that I take a break from road games for a little while with ANY team. Anyway, like I said Monday night, I’m not back with Phoenix, and I’m not discounting the possibility of joining the ranks with the potential new team’s fans either. I guess we’ll have to wait and see, but all I know is that this “sign,” if it is one, is trying to keep me out of the new team’s city. I guess we’ll see what happens November 5th – 8th.

I wish I had received word about this event a day sooner so I could have gone out and bought a new suit. I haven’t had to wear a suit for work since I worked for Maple Leaf Sports. Oh well! Anyway, after I sorted things out on Expedia, Michelle and I went out for some pasta and wine, and a solid six hours of hockey related girl talk. It was lots of fun! We were so engrossed in our hockey discussion that, after we were ushered out of the restaurant, we stood on the street at Times Square, IN THE RAIN, for over an hour to continue the gossip. We have the best stories!

When I finally got back to my room, it was really late, and I had to put off posting the Top 10 and the Day 3 entry because I wanted to actually get some sleep that night so I wouldn’t die on my way to St. Louis. Never the less, I was still exhausted the next morning, and felt a genuine sadness for having to leave New York.

Top Photo: Nick wanted a picture of my sweet ass Psycho Lady Hockey hoodie. Eat your heart out, Sean Avery! Don’t think I haven’t noticed that your logo looks suspiciously like mine!

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Sunday, October 25th, 2009

New York (Day 1): I’m in Manhattan, trick!

There is an Expedia conspiracy afoot! It seems that I always have a rude awakening a day or two prior to my departure, when my itinerary is emailed to me, and I discover that I have booked yet another ridiculously early flight. A 6AM flight isn’t so bad if it’s local, but my airport of choice is Buffalo Niagara, which means that I’m leaving home between two and three in the morning to ensure that I actually get on that plane.

I knew that I wouldn’t be sleeping Saturday night, so I tried my hardest to sleep in that day. Unfortunately, I couldn’t shake this terrible feeling that I was having about my Coyotes adventure, and I couldn’t sleep past ten no matter how hard I tried. I was tired and worried when I pulled up to the Queenston-Lewiston Bridge. While I waited for the car in front of me to be released, I was fretting about what I was going to say to the border guard. It has been my experience that, according to US Security, single females are not allowed to have an interest in sports. My career as a hockey addict has caused all sorts of drama at the border. Last season, they searched my car twice in one week! However, my experience crossing into the States this time around was (pleasantly) interesting to say the least. Here’s the actual dialogue:

Guard: Where do you live?
Me: Toronto
Guard: Purpose for your business in the States?
Me: Umm *cute voice* hockey games (then I get this standard, “How do you wanna play this?” look on my face).
Guard: Oh, right, of course! I should have known.
Me: *confused by this response*
Guard: Aren’t you some sort of reporter?
Me: Uhh…I have a website…
Guard: Yeah, and a book, right?
Me: Yes…have I been to you before? (Now, I’m asking the questions, eh?)
Guard: Yes, it must have been close to a year ago now. You liked the Flyers. Why’d you switch teams to Phoenix?
Me: Well, it’s kind of a long story…
Guard: *Rests his head in his hands and leans out the window waiting for me to spill it*
Me: *quickly tries to think of the shortest and least crazy way to explain the story* Well, these psychics told me that I’m supposed to be with some guy who’s connected to Arizona, but I knew I wouldn’t go there unless it was for hockey. So, when the Flyers made a trade there in March, I took it as the *spirit fingers* sign that I was supposed to switch teams. Still haven’t found the guy, though.
Guard: So, are you going ALL the way to Phoenix? (Notice he’s just asking me this now.)
Me: No, I’m going to New York and St. Louis, they are playing there this week!
Guard: Oh, really? That will be fun. Have a safe trip!

Am I kind of a big deal in Buffalo? I thought this encounter was even weirder than the guy who knew who I was at the Coyotes/Sabres game two weeks ago!

I arrived at the airport about twenty minutes later and got a killer parking spot. This is Lynx’s first overnight stay at Buffalo Niagara, and a mother worries. I seriously walked back to the car four times to make sure he was safe and locked up. Anyway, after I was checked in and had devoured a delicious greasy breakfast sandwich, we all received word that our flight was delayed an hour because the crew members were resting. Great. BNIA is one of the worst airports for killing time. There’s NOTHING to do, and I was starting to get tired. What was worse was that I couldn’t even catch a quick nap on the plane because I was sitting next to one of those smelly types that want to blurt random shit to you the whole way there – SHUUUUUUUT UPPPPPPPPPPPP!

The plane landed at 8AM and I was barely alive. I was exhausted from lack of sleep and just wanted to check in to my hotel and pass out for a few hours. Surprise! My room wasn’t going to be ready until 3PM! I didn’t know how I was going to stick it out until then. I stumbled around Fifth Avenue like a cracked out former child star visiting from Hollywood’s, Where Are They Now? list – big sunglasses, the works.

I decided to kill some time and visit the St. Jude shrine at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Two years ago, I came to Manhattan for the first time with my mom for her birthday. I had planned the trip to take her to the Meatloaf concert at MSG, but come game time, we found out the fat man was sick and cancelled the show! Anyway, we had visited St. Pat’s, and that was really the first time I had heard the story of St. Jude, so I figured I should go back, light a candle, visit the gift shop, all that good stuff. I stayed for the noon mass as well, and, boy, was that ever a mistake. If you’re tired, don’t expect church to perk you up. I think I actually did a head bob at one time – eek!

The weirdest moment happened when a woman visiting from Arkansas came over to ask me some details about the Cathedral. I was waiting for the 10:15 mass to clear out so I could go to the shrines. She was waiting for the noon mass, and said she was going to walk around outside until it started. I told her that there were a bunch of shrines inside if she needed something to do, and mentioned that they even had a St. Jude. “St. Jude?” she said rather surprised, “That’s my parish in Arkansas!” Hmm. I thought this was strange considering the volume of traffic in the Cathedral. She could have talked to anyone, but she talked to me. It would appear as though I had attracted St. Jude to me again.

There was a time last season when I thought he hated me – my St. Jude candle burned me and broke, and I lost my medal. So, what gives now? My friend theorizes that when I lost the first medal the sign was ominous, and that, perhaps, he reappeared again the day I decided to make a change and admit defeat because that is what was meant to happen. When I switched teams I considered all avenues of possibility for how I would meet this mystery man, including the possibility that the Coyotes were meant to pull me away from the Flyers, even if it was to lead me elsewhere in the long run. Again, I will discuss more about this on November 5th! I’m reluctant to interpret the signs now out of fear of misinterpretation. After all, you could also interpret these signs in Phoenix’s favour. So, I guess I will just have to wait and see what happens with the Coyotes and I over the next few games, though, now I’m slightly more troubled that there might be something to that horrible feeling I was having yesterday.

At 1:30 I cleared out of mass and my room was finally ready! I didn’t want to waste time having a nap, but I couldn’t fight the need any longer. I crashed until 5ish, and had dinner around 8 at Nobu in Tribeca. I ate my face off. I actually couldn’t believe how amazing their sushi actually was. My snow crab sushi was actually made with crab! And their dessert menu was incredible! I absolutely loved the beer praline parfait!

One of the most entertaining features was the two people sitting at the table next to me. At first they appeared to be on a business meeting. This woman was really doing an oversell on her “abilities.” It actually depressed me. I had a similar depressing moment the last time I was here. In the big city it seems that if you are a career woman, you’re dooming yourself to being a spinster. This woman was obviously successful and intelligent, and she was conventionally pretty, but she was in her forties, and only discussed how her relationships have all failed horribly. I felt bad for her, mostly because I wondered if I was going to be like her when I’m that age. I guess I wanted to believe that there are men out there that aren’t intimidated by brains, but I guess bimbos with fake tits are still the easy option.

Anyway, the prospective employer didn’t seem to be interested in what she was selling, until she said, “Maybe I can help you in some way as well.” Oh yeah, he has some way alright. After this guy had been talking about his wife and kids, he fully started putting the moves on this chick. He starts holding her hand across the table, then kisses her ON THE LIPS when he goes to the washroom, and more of the same. What’s wrong with this girl? Any combination of respect or pity I had for her flew out the window. This activity was making her noticeably uncomfortable, but she was going along with it like she was still living the dream that she wasn’t going to have to see her “friend” naked later on. So, what was this? Sleeping your way to the top, or just another doormat who never learned to say, “no” in her forty some odd years? Either way, I’m sure I smirked into my champagne cocktail more than a few times, and may or may not have muttered, “pig” under my breath. I can’t be sure, champagne gets to me pretty fast.

I was so full after my large meal that I was determined to hike all the way back from Tribeca and walk it off. Apparently, I was actually paying attention to where the cabbie was going on the way there. I gave up on the exercise mission about half way back because I was stricken with sudden fatigue again. I hailed a cab, and sprawled out as soon as I got back in my room. I couldn’t move, and ended up passing out until midnight!

OK, so to wrap this up, here is my weirdest anecdote from Day 1. I was walking around in the evening, and a white car pulls up just ahead of me. As I walk passed, I hear the car horn honk, and the driver had obviously said something, but I didn’t know what. I looked over, and the guy was JACKING IT! YES, jacking it! I know most people would be offended, disgusted, or creeped out, but I thought it was funny, and I actually laughed before I walked away. I hope he didn’t take my laughter the wrong way LOL!

Anyway, that does it for my first day in NYC! Don’t forget that tomorrow is game day at Madison Square Garden! If you’re looking for me, I’m not sitting bench side this time. I’m somewhere on the penalty box side in the Coyotes zone. Don’t forget to Tweet if you see me!

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Saturday, October 24th, 2009

Woe is me I have no hockey team.

It has been exactly two weeks since I broke up with the Phoenix Coyotes, and if you haven’t noticed, via my tweets, I’ve moved well past the post break up remorse stage to the full fledged anger stage. Whatever love was there has been pushed aside for hate. Yes, boys, I’ve lost that loving feeling. What’s worse is that, much like Kyle Wellwood, I’ve replaced hockey with food. I’ve been treating every day like it were Thanksgiving since the break up – I find happiness in carbs and Halloween candy. Luckily, it would appear as though hating is a calorie burner because I haven’t noticed MUCH damage.

Of course, not having a hockey team to call my own has put quite a strain on, not only my blog/nutrition, but my relationship with the game as a whole. I think my fellow female hockey fans can relate when I say that when we scorch our wings by flying too close to one aspect of the game, we develop a similar aversion to the other components of the sport temporarily. I guess it all comes down to that, “Hell hath no wrath” business. I have to admit that I haven’t felt an aversion quite like this in over six years. Back then, I had gone through a major high school aged drama, which naturally seemed far more devastating through the eyes of an inexperienced and naïve teenager. Nevertheless, a complete and total loathing for hockey (at all levels) developed. I couldn’t even stomach watching my (then) beloved Maple Leafs until the fateful day I decided to embark upon writing Down the Rabbit Hole: A Guide to Puck Bunnies.

In the last two weeks I have watched maybe two hockey games, and even then I wasn’t really paying attention. You can see the impact this would have on my hockey blog. When I had my bat shit crazy outburst towards the Coyotes after I returned from their game in Buffalo, I wasn’t entirely sure that I would abandon the team. I decided to take some time to reflect on everything that happened particularly in the realm of the Arizona prophecies. I opted to keep my eyes on the Coyotes and their dealings, until, a couple games in, a completely unnecessary first intermission interview prompted me to turn off the TV and never turn it back on. I realized then that I wasn’t safe from the constant reminder of the hideous beast lurking in the desert, and that my happiness was now dependent on me avoiding the team at all costs. Unfortunately, I still have a few games to get through before we officially go our separate ways. But on a more positive note, I booked a trip to take a test drive of a new team, which I will reveal on November 5th when my plane lands in said NHL city.

I think the main reason that my hatred towards the Coyotes burns hotter than anything I’ve ever felt before is mainly due to the nature of our relationship in the first place. As most of you know, I became a Coyotes fan because a series of psychics had told me that it was essentially my destiny, and that the love of my life was connected to the place. When all the prophecies had fallen into place, I dropped everything and ran toward the desert at top speed because I rationalized that if the man of my dreams was really there, then the risk would be worth it whatever the cost. Since then I have been searching the globe for this guy, but have had no luck in neither finding him nor acquiring him. I didn’t want to give up on the quest, but after that moronic interview I really felt like I had no choice but to distance myself from the team. I can’t even begin to describe the bitterness that I feel about this whole situation. I put my life on pause for this mystery guy; I jeopardized my education, my future, my financial stability, and for what? Nothing! While I haven’t entirely given up on finding this guy, I have amended my course of action, which I will discuss in greater detail on November 5th. The weird thing is that it doesn’t feel like my choice, and it doesn’t feel like I’ve given up. It feels like I had found the guy, but instead of happily ever after, he chose to reject me. I guess I should have banked on that happening.

Anyway, tomorrow night I begin my trek down to New York City for one of my last few remaining Coyotes games. I am still hopeful that something miraculous will happen and that this man will somehow reveal himself to me, but the reality is that the clock is ticking on my time spent shadowing Phoenix. The realist in me is more than confident that I will be cheering on the Rangers come Monday night, and continuing on my brand new quest to find, not the man, but the hockey team of my dreams, and rekindle my passion for the game that I once loved more than anything in this world.

See you in Manhattan.

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Wednesday, October 14th, 2009

Show Me A Sign…Literally!

Many of you have been quite vocal about my recent break up with the Phoenix Coyotes whether it be in support of or completely against it. Last March, I was prompted to switch teams to Phoenix after a series of psychics had told me the same Arizona prophecy over and over again (for those of you who haven’t been keeping up). Whether you believe in this or not, just accept the fact that this was the choice I made, and the reason I am where I am today. Anyway, since then, I have been following these predictions and “signs” until my last game in Buffalo where I finally started to feel lost and confused. In a rash decision, I made a little outburst at the Coyotes which I can only describe as being in the realm of bat shit crazy. Of course, immediately after said outburst, there was remorse and confusion over whether or not this was the right thing to do, and what course of action to take next. That’s where you come in…

I need a sign!

Since I love metaphorical “signs,” I figure a real sign would be a great eye opener for me. At the Coyotes game in Buffalo last week, I had my first encounter with someone at the rink who knew who I was strictly from Psycho Lady Hockey (he wasn’t even from Twitter)! So, I know you guys are out there, and I’d like to think that we have a nice little family *cough*cult*cough* of psychotic, obsessive hockey addicts! Anyway, if you want me to invade your hometown and stalk your local NHL rink at some point during this season, then I want you to give me a sign…literally!

Here’s what you do:

Make a game day sign asking for me to come to your rink, then email me a picture of you and your hockey entourage displaying the sign at one or more of your home games! It’s as simple as that! However, there are some conditions that apply:

1) Psycho Lady Hockey MUST be written on the sign (I’m only @PsychoPuckLady on Twitter).

2) The photo proof of the sign must be taken inside your arena with preference going to pictures with hockey players skating in the background (the warm up is a prime photo op).

What’s the point?

Well apart from being a dear and helping me make my future hockey decisions (I will be visiting the rinks that have shown the greatest support), I will also have the top five signs judged toward the end of the season, and the winner will be rewarded with something totally awesome – and I don’t mean oversized t-shirt almost awesome, I mean actually awesome!

Who can enter?

Anyone can enter! I am not opposed to returning to NHL rinks that I have visited in the past. You can find a complete list of my previously visited rinks in the side bar. (This would be your time to shine, Nashville!) And, yes, Phoenix fans are allowed to enter as well. In fact, I encourage it so more people go to Jobing.com Arena!

How do I win? Your guide to brownie points!

1) Originality: example, find the most creative way for you to say, “Come back to Phoenix, Psycho Lady Hockey”

2) Humour

3) Biggest Entourage: the number of people you have posing with your sign!

4) Glitter Glue: I’ve always been a sucker for the stuff.

5) TV Time: bonus points if you are caught on camera with your sign. Only the most outgoing sign bearers will likely achieve this, but it’s worth a guaranteed spot in the final five!

Best of luck to everyone who enters, and I look forward to seeing your signs, and hopefully “seeing the light” in the process! Don’t forget to email your works of art to psycholadyhockey@hotmail.com! :)

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Monday, October 12th, 2009

Season Opener Double Header (Day 4): Game Day #2 Yotes@Sabres – The patron saint of hopeless cases.

I was pretty frustrated when I checked out of my Buffalo hotel in the early afternoon on game day. I had set my own personal ultimatum for this trip, and things weren’t looking good. Essentially, this trip was supposed to (ideally) give me some insight as to whether or not this wild goose chase for the prophesized, Arizona connected, love of my life was really worth it. When predictions, dreams, and gut feelings are all you have to go on, it doesn’t take much to start making you think that you’ve lost your mind. My head felt really foggy that day, like my third eye had finally clouded over. I had plans for future road trips, and suddenly I couldn’t see myself at the games – I couldn’t see myself anywhere.

My usual pregame Sabres routine is to go for a drive around Buffalo and the surrounding area. I looked down at the clock – it was 2:22 PM. “Hmph!” I thought to myself. You know how much I love signs, and 222 is the number that symbolizes that everything is happening the way that it is supposed to happen. How could this be? Everything seemed to be going wrong or mysteriously backfiring! Was this fate in action? And what was this supposed to mean? I had selected the Ralph Wilson Stadium as a point of destination, but the memory of wrong turns taken years before entered my mind, and I decided it was best to turn around and go some place else. I looked to my right and I saw a church in the distance. I decided I would get off at the next exit and turn around at the old building. As I approached the church, I noticed a sign out front that got my attention, “The Shrine of Saint Jude.”

I was stunned that I had stumbled upon such a place, you see, Saint Jude is the patron saint of hope, and hopeless cases, and he is often credited as being the saint that brings about miracles. Last season, when I suspected that I was switching teams to Phoenix, I sought out Saint Jude, and began wearing a medallion of his likeness to every game. However, I had lost my medallion in a very bizarre way. One week before the trade deadline, I was waiting for my flight out of Philadelphia after my last two games at Wachovia Center. My flight was at night, so I decided to kill some time and check out the Flyers Wives Carnival. My jaunt around the concourse was stopped abruptly when I felt my Saint Jude medal fall from my neck never to be found again. I looked up from the scene of the loss and who was standing there unbeknownst to me? Yes, the very player who ended up being traded and catapulting me into my Arizona quest for true love.

I never replaced my medallion, but the thought had crossed my mind before I left for Pittsburgh that maybe I should have. I decided that I would park the car and go check out the shrine. The church was on a lonely street with quaint little houses uniformly decorated for Halloween. A cold wind blew through my hair as I walked toward the church yard, which set the tone for the gravity of autumn, and the impending death and darkness of winter. I walked through the gate, and rang the doorbell of the rectory. The priest answered the door wearing a brown robe, and agreed to give me a tour of the church and show me the shrine.

The priest was a really nice guy. He asked me what made me become such a devoted Jets fan (he kept referring to Phoenix as Winnipeg even though I had told him Phoenix). Naturally, I wasn’t going to talk to a priest about psychics and predictions – I really didn’t need to have that lecture before game time. I can’t remember what I said, but he turned to me, smiled, and said, “Uh huh, so which player is the cutest?” Surprisingly, I actually told him.

For a good half an hour, the priest explained the architecture of the building, and the historical inaccuracies of the stained glass windows. He then left me to have my alone time with the shrine. I placed my wish for assistance in finding my Arizona boy along with the other prayers gathered at the foot of Saint Jude. I lit two of the red candles (one for me and one for the boy) positioned in a crucifix formation in front of the shrine. The priest gave me two novena kits and booklets about the saint while I was on my way out. He grabbed my hand, and placed two Saint Jude medallions in my palm and blessed them. The blessing was for the medals to bring hope not only to me but also to those who see the medal around my neck. After the strange few days that I had, hope was exactly what I needed.

Back in the car, I was suddenly overwhelmed. It took all my strength to fight off having a massive, tearful, emotional breakdown. The last thing I needed was to have mascara smears on my face by game time. To lighten up, I went on a hunt to find the Halloween superstore that was advertised on billboards all over the highway, and also decided that now would be a good time to finally give into the McDonald’s craving I had been having all week.

The game was kind of slow. Luckily, I had two “outgoing” Sabres fans on either side of me to keep me entertained. By “outgoing” I mean they liked to bang on the glass and yell loudly at the Coyotes bench. Unfortunately, my attempt to be the hero cost me the greatest embarrassment of my entire hockey game going career. After the guys were ripping on Shane Doan, I said, “You can’t say that to Shane Doan; it’s Shane Doan!” Seriously, how could anyone hate him? He’s always so happy! I can’t remember what they said, but I replied with, “Everyone loves Shane Doan!” Apparently, they interpreted this as me wanting Doan’s ass. Eeek – impure thoughts of Shane Doan just seems wrong and inappropriate. You can understand how mortified I was when the guys started banging on the glass and yelling to Shane that I wanted to have “little Doans” and that I want “Doan’s shaft.” They said I turned the same colour as my top – Coyotes red.

I arrived home in Toronto at 2:22 AM, and waiting for me was the terrible, ugly, Chlamydic mule of reason that my progress had halted. It was a good thing that I was sitting on my bed when I saw it because my head started spinning, and I don’t doubt that I would have fainted had I been standing. I can’t help but feeling that this was what it feels like to lose game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals. To know that you had given so much, sacrificed so much, gone so far, only to come up short. The weird thing was that I had dreamt this exact moment the night before I left for Pittsburgh, but I still wasn’t prepared for it when it was staring me in the face. That night I decided to break up with the Coyotes. Not necessarily to end our team to fan relationship, but to at least give it some time and space, and reevaluate the situation. I said what I needed to say, but it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I can only imagine that breaking up with a person feels just as bad.

The following day was hard to get through. I really felt like it was an effort to be pleasant to other people, and I actually felt my whole body strain with every effort to smile. Strangely, the fog clouding my third eye during my inaugural hockey road trip had lifted, and I was able to see myself at the Coyotes games again. I also had Coyotes signs flying at me from every angle. I didn’t know what was going on, and I’m still evaluating my next course of action, but all I can hope is that, like the number suggests, destiny is manifesting the way it’s supposed to.

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Monday, October 5th, 2009

Season Opener Double Header (Day 1): Greetings from Pensburgh!

My drive to Pittsburgh was uneventful for the most part, aside, of course, from the US border guards’ suspicions of a girl’s interest in sports – some things never change. It was nice to feel those same old hockey road trip sensations after a long five months of inactivity. The sleeplessness the night before travel, the way tired eyes feel in morning sunlight, the jitteriness from a diet of caffeine and no food for the entire duration of the drive, and finally the anxiety when pulling up to the hotel (to name a few). As long as the offseason felt to most of us non-Penguins fans, when I walked into the lobby of the hotel, I suddenly felt like my last game was only a few days ago. It was like nothing had changed, and business was carrying on as usual.

One thing is different this time around. People often joke that I’m on the NHL schedule because I always show up to the host city the day before the game. This time I decided to take an extended trip and come to town two days before puck drop. It’s a really weird feeling to know that when I wake up in the morning, it still won’t be game day. Not sure I like the feeling to tell you the truth. I prefer it when my hockey trips are all business all the time. But I AM having a good time! I had a really great dinner tonight at Soba. Soba reminded me of happier times at Buddakan in Philadelphia when I was a Flyers fan and everything seemed a lot simpler. Another plus was that they were doing a special awesome tasting menu (I LOVE tasting menus). Their chef selections were intense (four courses), and the portions were HUGE . Yes, I ate carbs tonight! Wooo!

However, some things made me wish that I stayed home today. Walking through the hallways of the old hotel, I started to feel an eerie heaviness. “Oh, this hotel is haunted,” I thought to myself. No big deal, I’ve been in lots of haunted places. Apart from the annoying pressure headaches, it doesn’t usually faze me all that much. So, I just disregarded the spirits in the hallway, and chalked them up to another neat feature in the hotel. However, later tonight, as I was about to take a shower, the charm of the haunted building lost its appeal pretty damn fast.

After I stripped down to my skivvies, I unpacked my shampoo and conditioner and put them on the ledge of the bathtub. I turned my back to them for a moment, and suddenly I heard a loud bang coming from behind me. I turn around, and one of the bottles had come flying off the ledge. I felt that eerie heaviness again, but I decided to deduce that the ledge must have been slanted. I moved both bottles to the other side of the tub where the ledge was definitely not slanted. I walked out of the room, and within a couple minutes, another loud bang. Now the other bottle had been thrown from the ledge. Ok, now I knew something was up. I moved both bottles again, and again the same thing happened. For someone like me, I was surprisingly freaked out.

I decided to investigate and do a routine Google search for the hotel with haunted next to the name. As it turns out, two floors in this hotel have been completely closed down because of the paranormal activity. People reported seeing things, feeling like they were being watched, mysterious gusts of wind barreling through the corridors, and strange laughter. Apparently, there was a murder up there.

Anyway, I was successfully creeped out, and managed to put off showering for a whole hour until I MacGyvered a way to shower with both the door and the shower curtain open. I don’t think I’ve ever showered so fast in my life (P.S. at this moment, while I’m writing this, something started kicking my bed). If you’re watching the Coyotes game on Wednesday, and you see me sitting behind the bench with terrible hair now you’ll know why. I never thought I’d ever say this, but I can’t wait to get to my hotel room in Buffalo on Wednesday night.

I’ve always been the fearless, independent type. I never thought that I needed anyone to make me happy. Tonight, for the first time in maybe my entire life, I felt, not just lonely, but truly needy. I couldn’t help but thinking about how much easier I’d sleep tonight and tomorrow night if I had someone here with me. This inevitably made me think about that Arizona boy that I’m supposedly destined to be with, and I couldn’t help but hope that somehow, someway, he’ll walk through the hotel lobby tomorrow and into my life.

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