Bobbles wobble, but they don’t fall down.
Once upon a time, I was at a hockey game.
It was Griffins hockey, Star Wars night, and it was a sold out game. I took the Boo (this was back when he got a free ticket and life was awesome) and his Nana (BabyDaddy’s mom). We went early because there was a Darren Helm bobblehead giveaway for the first so many fans to arrive. I wanted that Bobblehead. For the Boo. And for me too, because hi, it’s Darren Helm, and I love him.
But alas, since the game was sold out, despite being early, by the time we made it into the arena, the bobbles were gone. The Boo cried, since he wanted one. I cried inside, because I really wanted one too.
Cue to the end of the game. A few weeks early, when Boo’s Grandpa was at a Red Wings game, he paid a small child $10 so he could have a Red Wings lunchbox for Boo. We pooled our cash. Six dollars. We figured some kind soul would sell his bobble for that, and we would have paid less than Papa Bear did.
“Hey,” I find a kid with a bobblehead. He is eighteenish, coming out of a suite, and looking very bored. “I really wanted to get a bobblehead for my kid,” I point at Boo, who waves, little show boater that he is. “…but by the time we got here, they were gone. I was wondering…if we could maybe pay you a couple bucks…”
He shrugs at me and hands over his bobblehead without letting me finish. He doesn’t take the money. I am awesome.
FAST FORWARD. I am in the midst of my work day when it happens. Poof texts me and e-mails me immediately telling me that I must check the twatter. It’s urgent. Our lives (and amazing streak of lucky times) depends on it. I rush to twitter and find this:
Bobbleheads are up for grabs.
“I can’t talk to people. Especially strangers,” Poof tells me. “Call them for me.”
“I can’t,” I respond. “I’m at work. I don’t think calling for bobbleheads is considered work in any way shape or form.”
So I tweeted. Obviously, the first offer on the table was for my latest quest: ZamBattle 2k12. My logic is that if I offer this up enough, it will eventually happen. I mean, who doesn’t want to see two girls duking it out light saber style ON TOP of giant machines that polish the ice like china?
Unfortunately, the ZamBattle was a no-go this time…But they told me to keep thinking. I took this as a cue to push the envelope farther, but with less Zambonis.
I offered up my shooting skills. I play hockey with mini sticks on a regular basis with the Boo. I figured I could aim…and also, I offered Poof a goalie helmet. And said I’d use a soft puck. It was still a great offer, however. People are still talking about William Tell-ing an apple off someone’s head with an arrow, after. I just rewrote it for hockey, for awesome, and for bobbles.
Now that we had our heels (because you can totally rock heels in downtown GRap at a hockey game) in the door, we were excited. Bobblehead talk, people. And it was all because of the twatter.
Despite the fact that I was mildly disappointed that I had not been twatting with the giant mascot Griff, or even the mini-mascot Finn, I was still thrilled at the Bobble prospects. There was a Social Media Hockey Man offering up Bobbleheads. That wobbly rap song began playing in my head on repeat. If you don’t know what song I’m talking about, be grateful. It gets in your head, and it stays there. Everytime I look at my shelf of Bobbles, I think of it….a shelf, by the way, which now contains one Ericsson 80’s Porn-stache Bobblehead.
Poof and I were equally thrilled by the awesome that was PornStarHockeyManBobbleHead. We were so thrilled, that we both tweeted our love for said PornStarHockeyManBobbleHead.
Double thanks for Mr. Bobble. We even showed how thankful we were by bringing him his drug of choice (Peanut M&Ms) the next week. Two bags.
He was then so grateful for the deliciousness of peanuts, chocolates, and a thinly coated candy shell, that he proceeded to help us begin what I’m calling:
But that’s another story. For another time. Unless you have some item of awesome you’d like to barter with the Hotches for.
Until then, peace, love, and bobbleheads.