For those of you (all of you) who haven't been following the NHL playoffs, allow me to give you a little update: I still haven't shaven, and I'm still wearing the same t-shirt. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, the Buffalo Sabres are still rolling strong. They finished off the New York Rangers yesterday afternoon and have advanced to the Eastern Conference Finals, where they will square off with the hated Ottawa Senators. How hated? Well, just let me remind you of this:
The super-bestest part of the video comes with about 2:30 left, when the Sabres' resident goon, Andrew Peters, just starts beating the living bejesus out of the Senators' goaltender, Ray Emery. Oh, and (of course) there's the part with about 1:45 left where the Sabres' coach, Lindy Ruff, jumps the bench and starts assailing the Senators' coach with f-bombs. Now that's classic, people.
Anyway, I'm not making this post as an excuse to post that video (although that was a happy side-effect). I'm making this post to tell you about my shirt.
This trusty t-shirt has now draped my upper torso for an epic twenty-seven days. Lots of great things have happened in those twenty-seven days, and I'm attributing them all the to the t-shirt:
1) The Sabres have advanced through the first two rounds of the playoffs...
Umm... oh, right:
2) I haven't thrown up on myself again...
And, uhh... yeah, OK. So maybe only two great things have happened in the almost-four weeks I have been wearing this shirt nonstop. But, hey, that's two more great things than normally happen to me in a month!
Also, on a major plus, the shirt does not stink. Not even a little bit. As I've said more than once during this marathon, it would appear I emit a natural scent that is quite pleasant. My pheromones freaking rock. It's truly a wonder that I have not had to forcibly avoid sexual intercourse on a daily basis.
Maybe that will be an issue by this time next month, when the Sabres are in the midst of the Cup Finals, and I'll be pushing sixty days of shirted bliss.