Last night, despite the weather that hadn't hit the region yet, Fran and I took the entire office out to a Levon Helms Band concert. In case you didn't know Levon Helms was the drummer and one of the vocalists for The Band, the group that to many of you would only be recognized as the band (The Band) that has that song in the Verizon commercials about someone being overweight. But truth be told we weren't really there to see him or his new band (not The Band). And sorry Bill, as soon as he hit the stage we left. We were there for the opening act, Okkervil River. They did not disappoint during their short, short set where they wished me a happy birthday 14 times.
On to the point.
When we escaped the show we took the entire staff to a dive bar not far from the venue. Like most diligent workers would be we were all checking our phones for the score at the concert and high fiving between Our Life is Maybe a Movie and Unless It's Kicks. Zack Morris was getting the updates verbally from Screech over his cordless phone. So we knew when we walked out that it was 5-3, and we wanted to see the 3rd.
We get to the bar and low and behold there are 15 flat screen TVs, college football on every single one. Life as a hockey fan. We made a feeble attempt to ask if the game was on to which the enormous breasted bartender-for-life despite ambitions of being on an MTV reality show told us, more or less, it was not possible. She was pretty hammered though. So as will happen, being an office of mainly men and only two very persuasive and seductive women/females/ladies, we ended up making friends with our shovel faced server. Nice, but a face directly proportionate to a shovel. A good looking shovel. Ya know?
Turns out she was from Pittsburgh. She's trying to score a part in Rent. Which I think is no longer running. And the fact that we actually wanted to watch the Flyers who were playing the Penguins and not the Penguins themselves was lost in translation, and she had us watching the third on our own giant flat screen in 2 minute's time. Right in time to see Jeff Carter score (which I don't remember), Michael Rupp score (which I don't remember), and Mike Richards score (which I do remember - got ya, I don't remember that either). I think I do remember arguing with a cab driver? Maybe not.
Anyway, good job Flyers and thank God my boss got snowed in today.
GOSSIP COLUMN: Within 20 minutes of the game ending I do remember seeing Scot Hartnell and Jeff Carter's Great Aunt at the bar getting a little too close. He was fingering her. With a Naughty Barry in one hand a look of revenge on his face. Looking forward to the Inquirer breaking that story and me getting sued. Or not sued.
Because I can't be sure it was Scott Hartnell, maybe just someone that looked like him. So let the headlines read "Blogger Identifies Someone Who May Have Been Scott Hartnell Fingering An Old Lady Right At The Bar, That He Imagined Was Jeff Carter's Great Aunt." That's just news.
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