Okay, so, we're not there yet. This isn't YET the NHL Western Conference in 2002 (or 2000...or 1999...), but...it's that same feeling:
"...and he scores. Five minutes gone, and the Red Wings are up 2-0.
...and he scores again. 4-0, and the Avs are in trouble now.
...7-0, and the Avs are...really...in trouble now."
Even that wasn't ROB SMASH!!! level. I didn't break any tables or anything.
I haven't stabbed myself in the eyes and/or ears with, like, shards of glass or anything. Then again, I DID have some plastic shards on hand from around the 8th inning last night when the remote control magically flew out of my hand and shattered against the wall.
Fortunately, Sarah and I managed to successfully reconstruct said remote, and we took this extremely lucky bit as a sign that it was probably time to turn the game off.
Of course, when I move several months from now, I'll find shards of plastic here and there, and that will be a fun reminder.
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