Judgement Day

Today is judgement day for Ex-Ass bloggers, and to tell you the truth, I feel like hurling.

No time for a post today, sorry. I hope you all have a great weekend and may all of you go into the weekend with a clear conscience and a pure heart.

Peace.

NSFW Caption This

" Dick and Jane knew the competition needed to be stiff to beat them."

The Crying Game

Men do cry.

They do.

I should know because my EX-ASS cried long and hard to me on the phone yesterday. Truth be told, it was pathetic and uncomfortable. Like the thief who's not at all sorry he stole but so sorry he got caught, the question remains whether or not the crocodile tears are for real or is this just a game? What does it take to make a REAL man cry?
Death? Despair? Loss? A painful break-up? Or in the EX's case, the prospect of jail?

And what does it say about me, if I feel no sympathy for someone who has continuously wronged and hurt both myself and the people I love? I feel mostly pity, and I do feel sorry.
Sorry for my children.

How bad do things have to be in order to reduce yourself to a blabbering fool, in a last ditch effort to manipulate a situation to your advantage? And what if he has cried wolf one too many times and he really is scared? God forbid he does something drastic, would I be the villain for not reading the signs?

No f-ing way.

This is not on my head.

You're man enough to do the crime? Be man enough to do the time.

I feel nothing.
Sorry, I just can't fall for this cancerous charade. Again. Go sell it to someone who's buying. There will be no surprise at the end of this Crying Game.

And for God's sake, quit the blubbering and man up.

My New BFF's Birthday

Let's have a little fun today. It's Ellen's birthday!!!

This is from two years ago and It's pretty funny. (and there's a shot of Jake Gyllenhaal's ass, so it's worth it)

I wonder what they got cooked up for my girl today?

Happy day Ellen!!!

Payback's A Bitch

They say looking good is the best revenge.

And that payback's a bitch.

Oh, yeah, and Karma's a bitch too.

"Rumors that Hollywood A-list power couple Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are calling it quits after reportedly meeting with California divorce lawyers sent the media into a frenzy yesterday even though many close to the couple say Brangelina is here to stay."

"British tabloid News of the World broke the bombshell yesterday, reporting the couple secretly consulted with divorce lawyers in Beverly Hills and signed a $322 million split deal. The tabloid also reported heartthrob Pitt, 46, and Oscar-winning Jolie, 34, agreed to equally share custody of their children, even though all six would live full-time with Jolie. A source told News of the World both stars signed the document earlier this month."

“The contract was like a tailor-made version of a prenuptial agreement except for an unmarried couple’s split,” the unidentified source told the tabloid. “It seemed clear they want the world to know they’ll both play a part in the upbringing of the children.”

"Reps for Brangelina did not return calls for comment yesterday, the Daily News reported, but a source assured the public on People.com, “Everything is fine.”"

What's fine is Jen's ass....... you go girl!!!

Friggin Friday

So two Friday's ago I was all thankful and shit. Things were good and I was feeeeelin good...

My how things change quick.

Today I feel like my little friend above.

A couple a bullets why:

• A completely DISMAL sales week at the store. Freakin' dismal


• I got a zit


• I have been absolutely busting ass, working out and on a diet since Jan 4th...I gained two pounds.


• A completely DISMAL sales week at the store.


• My dog chewed my JIMMY CHOO stilettos. They can be salvaged, I think, but here's the kicker, it was my female dog. Does she not have the shoe DNA? Bitch.


• I hate my hair.


• A completely DISMAL sales week at the store.


• My entire family had a fantastic, Chicken Cutlet Parmagiana and ziti dinner last night. What did I have, while I sat with them? Lean cuisine. AND...I prepeared the Italian feast for them.


• I want to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in one sitting. I won't, but that doesn't stop the cravings. The upside is 2 months clean and counting.


• I have to work tomorrow. Per usual.


• Did I mention that the sales at the store this week have been DISMAL???

Let's hope I can turn my frown upside down soon. Oh, I hope I didn't step on your Friday buzz. Have a great weekend bloggers and don't worry about me, I'll be fine.

It's nothing an entire bottle of wine and a big fat meal can't cure.

Peace!

Thank You Sweet Baby Jesus For The Smokin Hot Dennis Quaid Who Is A Stone Cold Fox

I'm sorry.

I knew at about 9:30 yesterday morning that I had to share this with you.

It was so funny that it actually interrupted my workout. Yup, I had to stop running because I was laughing so hard.

Please, watch.

A Mothers Love

Frack spent the weekend skiing in New Hampshire with the family of his friend and had a great time. They rolled in from the trip at 5 pm last night and Frack called me at the store the second he walked into the empty house.

"Mom, where are you?" he barked.(because he had the day off from school he automatically thinks that it's Sunday)

"I'm at work, buddy. You home?" I said.

"Yeah, I'm home but I am sooo sick mom." he said.

Now, any mother will tell you that the simple utterance of these three words, "I'm so sick" automatically sends shock waves down her spine.

"What's the matter?"I shriek.

"I've got the chills, I'm sweating and I feel really weak, mom."

"I'll be right there," I said, immediately dismissing the dinner plans I had with my friends.

I hardly remember closing up shop, as I was outta there in about a nano second and on my way to the 5 minute ride home, in the blazing snow. I arrived home to find my son's wet winter ski coat and wet hoodie sweatshirt in a ball on the mud room floor. No wonder, I thought. I raced upstairs. The tell tale image of my son fully clothed and in his bed was enough to tell me this was no false alarm.

"Hey buddy", I said a I placed my palm on his blazing hot forehead.

"Ok, let's get you outta these clothes and into your pajamas."

After we got him into his clean, dry, warm pajamas and under the covers, I went to retrieve the medical supplies. A quick temp check revealed a 100 degree temp, which I promptly treated with a dose of Advil and a shot of orange juice. I then laid next to my son and I watched the chill escape his body. I watched him relax and drift off into a peaceful, much needed slumber as his breathing regulated into a peaceful calm. I left him to sleep, safe in the knowledge that at least for now, my boy was alright.

About two hours later I was delighted to hear my child's voice beckoning me from his room.

I had checked on him during those two hours, placing my hand on his clammy forehead to check his temp, this time his fever was gone.

He then uttered the greatest words a sick child could say to a mother, "Mom, I'm hungry."

I happily went to fix my son some sustennance, for that was all he needed.

That and a hearty serving of a mother's love.

They Always Win

The following was found posted very low on a refrigerator door.

Dear Dogs,

The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Racing me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other, stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out on the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is no secret exit from the bathroom! If, by some miracle, I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge in an attempt to open the door. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years - canine attendance is not required.

The proper order for kissing is: Kiss me first, then go smell the other dog's butt. I cannot stress this enough.

Finally, in fairness, dear pets, I have posted the following message on the front door:

TO ALL NON-PET OWNERS WHO VISIT AND LIKE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT OUR PETS:
(1) They live here. You don't.
(2) If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. That's why they call it 'fur'-niture.
(3) I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.
(4) To you, they are animals. To me, they are adopted sons/daughters who are short, hairy, walk on all fours and don't speak clearly.

Remember, dogs are better than kids because they:
(1) eat less
(2) don't ask for money all the time
(3) are easier to train
(4) normally come when called
(5) never ask to drive the car
(6) don't hang out with drug-using people
(7) don't smoke or drink
(8) don't want to wear your clothes
(9) don't have to buy the latest fashions
(10) don't need a gazillion dollars for college and
(11) if they get pregnant, you can sell their children ...

The Dream Lives On

"I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word."

Martin Luther King, Jr.

"I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character."

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Ode To Jim

(this is not Jim. this is who came up when I typed "happy guy" in google)

I want to tell you about my friend Jim. I've been thinking about him lately, almost daily, as I make myself a sandwich for lunch before going off to work. This Jim is not my funny, commenter friend Jim, so let me explain.

I live in a small town that has one of those little "boutique" supermarkets. It has almost everything you need, at twice the price and on most occasions, it suits my needs just fine. But as I said, it has almost everything. Every once in a while I need to travel over two towns to the big supermarket that has absolutely everything I need. Since I opened my store in September and I began all the construction mid-summer, I have been crazy busy enough not to be able to travel to the big supermarket since the fall. So two Sunday's ago I made the trip to the big supermarket. Upon entering, I did all the normal things that I do at said market, went through the produce, got what I needed and went over to the Deli. I got my number at the Deli counter, and then I looked for Jim.

Jim was an older gentleman who presided over the deli counter for years. His white hair, tucked neatly under the maroon baseball cap of his uniform, worked to set off the sparkle in his piercing, Irish, blue eyes. Jim was the jolliest of souls, always quick with a smile and a hello, and we got to know each other in those few, short exchanges we had over sliced Genoa Salami throughout the years. Jim knew me by name and I knew him by name. He would always start with a, "Hello Candace! What a pleasure it is to see you." I would return the pleasantries. We both loved the Red Sox, Celtics, Pats and B's, and I would always forgo my numbered turn until Jim was available to help me. I knew about his new car, and how proud of it he was, and he knew about my children and their recent triumphs.

Jim wasn't always working on the days I went to the big market, so I wasn't surprised at all last Sunday to find that Jim was not at the counter. There was a slew of young guns, manning the deli slicers, hurrying to get through the masses of customers. When it was my turn, I placed my order, then inquired, "Where's Jim? Is he off today?" The young man looked at me with a blank expression. "Jim?" he said. "I don't know any Jim." I looked over at the other younggin standing next to him and he said, "No Jim works here."

Huh???? Ok, I thought, rookies.

I then saw the two younggins whisper something to each other and then one turned to me and said, quite matter of factly, "I think Jim died."

"No..." was my immediate response, and my heart took on the weight of an anvil at that very moment. I was stunned and numb, but I continued on with my order, with a quiet sadness I was unable to avoid. As I thanked the young man, and proceeded to move on to the rest of the market a bit dumbfounded, a woman from the deli counter came from behind and approached me. She told me how Jim had died, that he had gotten sick and went quick. No suffering. She had gone to see him in the hospital and Jim told her that he wanted no one to cry for him. He was happy. I told her about the last time I had seen him, and how happy he was about his new car, and just about my brief but meaningful exchanges with Jim.Both of us stood in the center of the produce aisle, tears brimming in our eyes. Then I said, "You know, you never realize how someone touches your life until it's too late. Even at the deli counter in the supermarket and just for a few brief moments, but they have touched you."

I was so grateful to her for telling me Jim's story because although I didn't realize it then, I needed to know he was at peace when he went. And today, two weeks later, as I made my lunch for work, I thought of my friend Jim and decided to write this ode to him. Someone who I didn't know at all, really, but somehow Jim left an impression on me. As I wipe the tears from my eyes today, I ask you to quietly let someone in your life, no matter how big or small, know they matter. Before it's to late.

And somehow, I think Jim now knows that he mattered to me.

Senate Race Rule #1: Spell Check

Just in case the rest country wasn't aware of it, there's a little Senate race going on here in Mass between a man and a woman. The woman's a Dem and the man's a Republican and they just so happened to be fighting for THE Senate seat that once belonged to one of the biggest legends of the Senate, the Liberal Lion, Ted Kennedy. If that doesn't warrant the rest of the country's eye upon them, I don't know what will.

The man, MA State Senator Scott Brown, who's biggest claim to fame is his 15 hundred, way-over-the-time-limit-on-fame, minutes daughter, Alya Brown, a Season 5 reject from American Idol, is running against the woman, MA Attorney General Martha Coakley. And it's getting ugly.

Or I should say it's getting good.

Just a few short weeks ago Scott Brown, a pallid underdog who was points behind the technicolor Coakley in the polls, is just now showing his true colors when it really counts. At the finish line. Before this week, Brown was the clear underdog going up against Coakley and the Democratic machine that is MA. With the election one week away, Coakley turned up the heat with an onslaught of negative media ads and it's strategy backfired. Brown then pulled out his favorite weapon, his daughter, *yawn* who was on the front page of the Boston Herald yesterday, blasting Coakley for playing dirty pool with her Daddy. Coakley tried to play the "woman" card in her negative ads, and it may have given Brown the surge he needed in the polls, for as of today, the race is locked in a dead heat.

Besides the snafu the Coakley campaign made with the strategic error, they also made a HUGE, embarrassing error, which wears like a big spot of Ketchup on Coakley's clean whites. In a last minute attack ad on Scott Brown, the campaign misspelled the state of Massachusetts, as, "MASSACHUSETTES". Which leads some to believe that they smell a bit of panic in the air. So what happens when panic ensues? They bring out the big guns. A Brown win would not bode well for Pres Obama's health care reform push, and the Dems would loose the majority in the Senate. I can just hear Teddy turning over in his grave. So Barry just may have to take a trip to Beantown an smile nice with Martha. I know I just LOVE my TV and radio bombarded with their political ads, 24-7.

Either way, it's going to be a busy weekend for the two candidates. Martha has Barak and Scott has Ayla.

While Coakley is still projected to win, Brown has siezed the opportunity to have his voice on the issues heard. If this race is really about health care, I think maybe Scott/Alya have the advantage.

And maybe Alya's 15 minutes is not quite up yet. Maybe the next song she sings won't be a swan song at all, but a song her dad's victory party.

Maybe not. But I bet Scott and Alya Brown can both spell Massachusetts correctly.

AI Why Can't We Be Friends?

American Idol, I guess you and I could maybe be friends again....Maybe.

Even after last year's travesty with the final results, and after I posted this and said I would never watch you again:

I guess since you came to Bean Town, maybe I should cut you some slack. Maybe.

So out of a genuine curiosity and civic pride, I turned on the TV and watched. And I maybe got hooked again. Maybe.

And of course, the first auditioner had the "wicked Boston accent" that makes me want to jump out of my skin in embarrassment. (no we don't all sound like that) And even though this is NOT a good representation of my fair city, I thought we "represented" quite well last night.

He is, quite funny, obnoxious and sassy!!!

Locked Out Of So Many Memories

Yesterday my daughter Frick and I executed to perfection a commonly played scene at the kitchen table in the morning before school.

ME: "Ah Frick, where's your coat?"

HER: "I have this on. I'll be fine." ("this" being a thin zipped hoodie)

ME: "Ya, no. It's about 21 degrees outside and you won't be fine. So go get your winter coat."

HER: "Really Mom, cmon. You know I can't carry it around all day."

ME: "I don't care if you WEAR it all day, just go and put it on."

Much Frick STOMPING ensues.


Sounds strange?? Did I loose you at, "I can't carry it around all day."? Don't worry bloggers, because that's certainly where I got lost too and I wouldn't have really understood it had I not seen it with my own eyes. I speak of the foreign, high school tradition, practiced by the children of this fine community we live in.

A little background:
One day last year,(Frick's first year) I went into the high school during school hours to drop something off for my daughter. Upon entering the semi-modern, updated high school, at the hallway of the entrance, which opens to the cafeteria on the right, office on the left, I noticed a SLEW of athletic bags strewn across the floor flanking the wall by the cafeteria. It was a virtual sea of athletic bags, literally hundreds, of multiple color, shape and size. My first thought? Fire hazard; but since the massive hallway entrance seemed wide enough to handle the mish mosh, I figured I go directly to the source on this one.

I asked Frick, "what's with the?'' She explained to me that NO ONE in the high school uses their assigned lockers. EVER.
Huh?
"Yup, mom, it's just not the way things are done at the high school," she said. I was flabbergasted. Not use your high school locker? How could this be? It is a travesty, to say the least.

Not only do the children of our community carry around ALL of their books in their backpacks..... further risking the possibility of a community of "Quasi-moto's", but they will not wear the proper outerwear, even in inclement weather, so as to not have to "carry around" said outerwear. But that's not the worst of it. The worst of it is that these future adults of our world are depriving themselves of a simple rite of passage, the locker memories.

I know, many a romance was sealed or doomed by the doors of my hallowed locker. Needed to re-apply my lip gloss or do a quick hair check? No problem, my locker had a mirror and 5 different glosses to choose from. (some things never change). My best friend and I shared my locker, because mine was in a "cooler part of the building" and my best collage art work was proudly displayed on the inside of the door with every teen heart throb represented. We pretended to be busily getting things out of our lockers to avoid trouble, and skipped classes by meeting at our locker, stored contraband in there and generally held just as many secrets in there as in our own minds.

I just don't get it? How can a student not use their locker?

Evidently, the Fire Department agrees with me. They just put a ban on athletic bags in the front entrance of the school. Maybe now they will use their lockers for their intended purposes. Making memories......

Maybe not. Frack says they just made the hallway to the gym their new spot for athletic bag dumping.

Mute Monday: Pain And Suffering

Channeling My Inner Ricky Bobby

Lately I've been feeling quite grateful for the many wonderful things in my life. My children are happy, my family is healthy, together and at this moment in my life, I feel at peace.

While I know that "this too shall pass", as all does, I'm feeling the need to take the time to stop and give thanks.

And who better than Ricky Bobby to put a voice to my very thoughts in the bloggersphere?
Make no mistake, Taladega Nights was one of the WORST movies I have ever seen. In fact, the first words I spoke after the completion of the film were, "That's two hours of my life I want back!" But like most Will Ferrell movies, you can't appreciate the brilliance of his message until after the fact.

This scene was probably worth the price of the ticket alone and GOD DAMN if Ricky didn't eloquently express what I am feeling today.

Have a great weekend bloggers!



my fave line is "thank you for my red-hot smokin wife Carly, who is a stone cold fox"

If I Had A Nickel For Every Time....Mimi And Me

I'm not really one to publish photos of myself on this blog. I think I may have done it once or twice, when I had you all help me decide which pictures to give my mom as a birthday gift and then they were pictures of me and my family. Then I did it once in the wee beginnings of The Daily Dandy, and I was making a face. The only picture of me the blog world has seen on a consistent basis has been my profile picture, which is also my avatar. Even that photo is a photo I took of a photo with my camera so it is no the best quality. BUT somehow, by reading my words and looking at my blurry picture, you all get your own idea about what I look like. Right??

Well, if I had a nickel.....the world seems to think I look like her.

Mimi? Diva? Are you kidding me???

Yet, I get this ALL. THE. TIME.

It's certainly not who I would choose to look like, but at most I get to play the celebrity look alike game with some conviction and I have to admit, that I have seen videos and photos of her that have actually given me the "OMG she looks like me" creeps.
So I'm going to go against my own moratorium on pictures of myself and post Mimi and I side by side and let's get a definitive answer from the bloggersphere and put an end to this crap once and for all.

Look alikes?

See You In The Funny Pages

Just thought I'd share with you some of the unBELIEVABLE crap that I read about in my morning paper today. Some of this stuff makes life much stranger than fiction, for sure.

• Mitt Romney's Hair: Our very own former Governor, on a "Fox & Friends" interview to air this morning, talks about a possible 2010 Presidential bid, Sarah Palin AND his hair?? Romney is quoted in today's Boston Herald saying that if people used "enough glue, every body's hair could be perfect." He also talked about the direction of his perfect coif's growth. "It grows down the middle of my face unless I stick it back there." Well, I'm glad we straightened that out. I really feel like I can now make a more informed decision about Mitt's Presidential candidacy. Whew.

• Mount Vernon New Hampshire killer admits regret: But not the regret one would hope for. Christopher Gribble, one of the four horrid youths who broke into Kimberly Cates Mount Vernon home, killed her in her bed then severely maimed her 11 year old daughter Jamie and left her for dead on Oct 4th told police "he was disappointed he didn't feel any emotion following the killing." He also stated that "his only regret was that he didn't kill the child because she now had to live with this." He also said, "if he realized she was alive he would have killed her." The words "an eye for an eye" keep popping into my head for some reason... but death would be too easy for him.

• Springfield, MA mother of nine receives public backlash over story: Tessa Savicki, a 35 year old single mom, was highlighted recently in a Boston Herald article about her lawsuit against Baystate Medical Center, two nurses and three doctors, who she claimed performed a tubal ligation without her written consent on Dec 19, 2006, immediately after the delivery of her ninth child. In the suit, Savicki claims that doctors were supposed to insert an IUD device but instead performed a tubal ligation, preventing her from bearing any more children.....and a reality TV show in the process. OH, I'm sorry, did I write that last part out loud?? My bad. Rest assured, Savicki says in the paper she's been unfairly judged. "She had eight of her nine children while in committed relationships."

• New Bedford Cop suspended for posting photo of dead body on Facebook: Do I really need to go on here?? Crime scene photos are always great to share on any social networking site.

• Charlie Sheen's wife, Brooke Mueller was reportedly in rehab while 5 months pregnant with twins: RadarOnline.com reported that Brooke was confronted about her alcoholism while pregnant after bottles of booze were found in her car. To make matters worse, one of the twins was born with a heart problem, and Charlie and Brooke fought bitterly over it, Charlie blaming Brooke's drinking for the baby's heart troubles. It's no secret that Sheen spent Christmas night in a Colorado jail after his wife accused him of "holding a knife to her throat." A source claims, "they both have drinking problems and neither one of them should be drinking." Sounds like they are perfect for each other.

• Rite Aid Pharmacy Game Card Promotion imitates "The Game Of Life": I think this was my favorite article today. Seems Rite Aid Pharmacy is offering to "pay off the mortgages of two lucky customers and is also giving away 10 'Mega-Kitchen Makeovers' as well as six Infinity convertible sports cars" in a promotion centered around Hasbro's classic "The Game of Life". The author goes on to talk about how he had become re-acquainted with Life over the holiday season, as his 7 year-old-son, received the game for Christmas. What he found was horrifying. If you remember, immediately you must choose your track: college or career. And if you choose College, you immediately go into $100k in debt. Lest we not forget the rent, car repairs, taxes, medical expenses and child care. True to life, the person who has the most money at the end of their Life "wins". The author goes on to describe another game he is well acquainted with; "Cash Flow". "The players are immediately issued income statements and balance sheets to fudge when the IRS comes calling," he writes. Somehow I never manage to win at THAT game.

Should He Have?

It was kind of hard to watch. What do you think? Should Dick have done it?

A Winter Classic For The Dental Maven

My son Frack and Boston Bruins great Cam Neely (Bruins Vice President) at Fenway Park's Winter Classic, January 1, 2010

Picture the scene:

Historic Fenway Park; one time home to The Babe and Ted, hosting two of the NHL's original teams on it's fields, The Big Bad Boston Bruins and The Philiadelphia Flyers. They dubbed it The Winter Classic. Fenway's storied field was transformed into a rare winter wonderland, complete with NHL regulation boards, jumbo-trons, black and gold everything invading the green monster of Fenway, and thanks to Mother Nature, just the right amount of snow from the day before, covering all the right things.

It was the kind of scene that made grown men teary and young children's eyes wide with hope and wonder. For those who were lucky enough to attend, scoring, by far, the most ridiculously expensive ticket in town, it was money well spent and memories made that you could never put a price on. It was a once in a lifetime.

And neither Fenway or The Boston Bruins disappointed. It was a classic alright, from the vintage Boston logo-which was chosen by Bruins VP Cam Neely, from the 1939 team, to Coach Claude Julien's old-time fedora, worn on the bench. Everything seemed perfect. Watching the team you love play outside in the elements brought you back to a time when outdoor pond hockey with the neighborhood kids was an every day occurrence. But this time Zdeno Chara and Patrice Bergeron were your neighbors.

The glitterati were there too, never ones to miss an event as big as the Super Bowl, bundled up in their fur to watch the game. Boston die hards like Dennis Leary and Lenny Clarke to name a few. After the ceremonious pre-game, it was time for the main event.

The game dragged on for almost two periods, scoreless, while both teams over passed and over played each other into, dare I say, boredom. Philly scored early in the second and that's was about all that happened for a while. In fact, it looked like the B's were going home winless and the game itself would pale in comparison to it's setting. But, folks, this is Boston, a sports city first, and this game ended up being one to remember when Boston's Mark Recchi scored the tying goal with 2:14 left to play.

Suddenly the Fenway faithful, who had just belted out "Sweet Caroline" in fine seventh inning tradition, were awakened. It suddenly became a game and just when everyone thought it couldn't get any better, the B's went into extra-innings. In the crowning glory of every Bruins fans dreams, Marco Sturm scored the game winner in sudden death OT and everything was right in the universe or The Nation.

"It's great. It's what we dream of," Sturm said after the game.

Indeed, so many dreams came true that special day on the hallowed fields of 4 Yawkee Way.