No music today, but check out my wood!

So it’s Tuesday, right?  Time to stop rambling about…socks (?) or whatever…and make with the weekly music post.

Really, I’m thinking maybe that whole socks thing wasn’t the cleverest moment in my writing adventure.  In fact, maybe I should bounce ideas for these posts off of someone, anyone, once in a while.  Even a mostly delirious crack-head would have been scratching his noggin at that nonsense.  Then again, that might just be from the lice.

Anyway, so, yes, it’s Tuesday.  And that should mean a bright, shiny new Tunes Test Tuesday post, full of first impressions and wide-eyed enthusiasm.

Yeah, um, about that.

Not today.

I finally settled on the Manic Street Preachers for this week, and I’ve been giving them a go the last day or so.  But I need more time, you know, to actually listen.  Seems that’s still an important factor in all this.

So, then.  Later this week, I promise.

For now, though, um, let’s see, what can I bore you with? 

Oh, I know!  Look what came for me yesterday:

stick_hor

(*squees gleefully like a schoolgirl with a pony*)

Why, yes, that is a Brand. New. Hockey Stick, thank you for noticing, and you thought I was just happy to see you.

I do realize I probably shouldn’t get giddy and ridiculous about it.  I mean, it’s a few feet of composite fiberglass (I think), not a pair of tickets to the Game That Shall Not Be Mentioned (for fear of the NFL’s Lawyer Brigade).  But it’s rare nowadays that I spend money on myself.  Well, on anything that isn’t consumed and reluctantly filtered by my curmudgeonly liver.

Truth be told, though, this is actually a birthday gift from the Puddinette from last March.  At the time she told me I should order what I wanted rather than having her blindly pick one by playing a quick game of web browser tab roulette.  For reasons beyond my understanding, I took my sweet time about it.

But, HEY! That’s all over now. My sweet new lumber is standing by, ready to hit the ice.

But, Puddin, you say, why not get one of those uber-fancy graphite ones with the replaceable blades that all the cool professional kids are using?

Well, Mr. Italicized Voice, the things is that I’m a mediocre hockey player, at best.  Heck, I didn’t buy my first pair skates until I was 26 years old or something (the pair I still wear, for what it’s worth).  My on-ice nickname is "Puddin Boy", for cripes’ sake, and I’m never going to upgrade that to something that sounds all flashy and quick like "Jet", "Rocket", or even "Big Wheel".  So dropping two or three times what I spent on this stick – which makes me giddy enough – on a high-end stick would have just been kind of silly.

Really, let’s be honest with each other: at my age and skill level, I think we can all agree that that’s money better spent on post-game beer anyway.

But you know, if you want me to have one of those fancy sticks, I’ve never been known to turn down a gift. 

HockeyMonkey.com.

I’m just sayin’.

Pud’n

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