New York, New York

Two friends and I took the train into New York today. We had lunch at Carnegie Deli (bacon & egg sandwich = mmmm!), got some drinks at the Ginger Man, and then took another train out to Long Island to see an Islanders/Devils game. I don't follow hockey at all, but as always I'll support New Jersey in any sport they care to field a team for, so naturally I was rooting for the Devils. That aside, I can say with complete neutrality that "Let's go, Is-lan-ders!" just doesn't sound right. Sorry, Long Islanders, but that'll never work no matter how much you want it to. Leave that cheer to the Devils and other teams with two syllables in their name and find a different one. They also had a squad of girls in miniskirts and belly shirts who would skate out onto the rink to mop the ice, give away t-shirts, and basically look hot during timeouts and between periods. I asked my friends, "Do you think these are the women who got turned down by Hooters?" They're apparently known as the Icebreakers, though I'd imagine their most-used actual icebreaker amounts to something along the lines of "No, sir, the fact that you are wearing an Islanders jersey does not mean that I will sleep with you."

I also saw some dude in a full Elmo costume on a street corner as our taxi drove by. Man, do I hate the fuzzy red bastard. (Elmo, not the guy.) Largely because he totally bogarted Grover's place on the Street. I read something recently that perfectly mirrors my own feelings on the subject, but phrased much better than I ever could. It referred to Elmo as "An extremely adorable and uncomplicated Sesame Street character who talks like a baby and is infinitely less interesting than old-school Sesame Streeters like manic Grover, filthy Oscar the Grouch, gay Bert and Ernie, or imaginary Mister Snuffleupagus." That about sums it up right there.