Fuckers, all of them.
Lochlan and the rest spent a lot of time talking me into dinner tonight. I'm so tired. I didn't want to go but he convinced me that a bourbon and some chicken wings would perk me up. I think it would perk him up, he means.
We walked in just as the Blackhawks scored on an empty net and there in the booth with a cup of coffee in front of him and his carry on bag beside him on the seat was Benjamin.
What a sight for my sore eyes. Ever cry in a pub? Someone walked by and tried to console me, telling me I shouldn't put any more effort into rooting for Minnesota.
