There are certain patterns in a person's life that shouldn't be messed with, certain routines that you fall into that screw you up if they get disrupted. I myself am a creature of habit, and I get annoyed when things happen that interrupt my flow, you know? Like if the Expos were to win more than one game at a time (keep your comments to yourself, please, Sars). Or when you go to your favourite bar and sit at your favourite table and find out that your favourite waitress has the night off, and instead you're served by the one waitress who's really mean and you don't even know her name so you all just refer to her as Surly. Or like this episode of Sports Night, which doesn't open with Casey doing his trademark deadpan delivery of some dumb joke. Instead, we open up on Michael J. Fox snuggling with that one chick from Spin City, whose name I don't know. They're on the couch. And I know that debating Michael J. Fox vs. Charlie Sheen on Spin City is a little like choosing which Cyndi Lauper album you'd like playing while having a tooth extracted in terms of its futility, but I confess that Charlie Sheen cracks me up. I mean, yeah, cocaine and hookers and everything, but the guy was in Major League, y'all. And Charlie Sheen was also part of one of my favourite cinematic explosions ever, the one in The Rookie, where he and Clint Eastwood drive that car out the window on an upper level of that warehouse place or whatever just before Raul Julia blows it up. It's probably as close to a Die Hard explosion as you're going to get without actually watching Die Hard. But more than that, the guy's voice kills me. I don't know how anybody takes the guy seriously. In fact, I'm currently working on a song about it. It's called "My Charlie Sheen Voice," and I don't want anyone to steal this idea, okay? Basically all I have right now is, "This is my Charlie Sheen voice/It helps me with the ladies." And I sing it in my, you know, my Charlie Sheen voice. I mean, it needs a few more verses, but it's basically there. Oh yeah, the show.
Anyway, that Spin City woman turns on the television, and there's Casey talking about Wayne Gretzky scoring a hat trick. And this got me a little choked up, because of course Gretzky retired later that year. I have the game on tape. I actually haven't watched it since that sad day, mainly because it was pretty emotional and I need a little more distance from it. And then thinking about the last game reminded me of watching his second-last game, against the Senators. See, I was interrupted by a phone call from the police. I mean, it's bad enough that I'm being interrupted during Gretzky's second-last game, but the cops are calling me. And the officer was all, "Is this Daniel MacEachern?" you know, all cop-like, and I said "yes" -- and here Sars is doing that gesture with her hands that tells me to wrap it up. ["More like the one where she's propping her eyelids open with toothpicks." -- Sars] So all I'll say is, that chick's neck was NOT sore when we exchanged insurance information the day before.