krisomniac

I think a fair bit of my f-list could use a hug today *hug* and a reminder that y'all are such a fun and talented group of people that keep me entertained through the darkest times and write stories that TAKE me places, draw, discuss, and generally squee like no others. You've given me trees and anonyous gifts when I'm down. You've celebrated when i'm up.

I love you guys.

I love you for what you do and who you are, and I think I don't say it out loud often enough, but at the risk of being as cheesy as a summer blockbuster, I'm so glad you're all here.

--

(and speaking of love, it's the last day to sign up for spn_summerlove today, the most gleefully free-for-all Winchester writing challenge to get us through another one of the long months ahead. And now, your prompts can include the FINALE canon! Whee!!)

Last night, I went to my second university Hockey game (and the capitalization of the word Hockey, in this town, is not accidental).

It was like a mass cult gathering.

They chant cheers I don't know at certain minutes in play. They burst spontaneously into song. They have cheers to heckle the opposing team's goalie. They have nicknames for the players whose age/history/stats they recall at a moment's notice. They all know to bring toothpaste to throw on the ice at the Colgate game, dead fish for Harvard. They give up every Friday and Saturday night that the team plays at home. They record games.

It's like fandom on ice.

I suddenly felt less inclined to listen to any local sportsfan who says anything derogatory about this particular girl's obsession with a particular TV show.

Ah, inner peace and pretty boys.