Oh lordy, I'm tired today thanks to the fireworks going off in our neighborhood last night, cars honking, and some idiot on the 45th floor who insisted on yelling, "Whoo Hoo!" from his balcony every 4-5 minutes for hours.
Yep, the Chicago Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup last night in a nail-biting game. Of course, it wasn't nail-biting for me considering I was rooting for the wrong team the whole first half of the game because I thought we had the "reddish-orange jerseys." (We were in White)
This is exciting for the city because the Hawks haven't won a Stanley Cup in about 4 decades, so for the Whoo Hoo boy, he wasn't even born the last time they won.
Last night after my birthday dinner, Mike wanted to go to Lincoln Park to watch the ending of the game. Thank goodness my feet were killing me and we didn't go, because the crowds were insane! If my birthday had ended with me getting trampled and/or shot with a rubber bullet by officers controlling the crowd, I wouldn't have been happy.
Now I've got to figure out how to get to work tomorrow, because I live and work smack dab in the parade route for the celebration, and I'm guessing people will starting lining up at the crack of dawn.
Congrats Blackhawks, you certainly deserve it! To Whoo Hoo boy, let me guess... you're single.
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