“I don’t know. Did you go to a hockey game tonight?” he asks, and I stop mid step. “You see, my sister hates hockey. She hates hockey like I hate going shopping.” “I don’t hate hockey,” I tell him and start walking up the steps. “I attend most of your games.” “So imagine my surprise when I turn on the game tonight and see a dipshit taking a penalty shot.” I try not to laugh at the nickname. “Then the camera zooms in on this woman who looks like my sister,” he says. “Would you leave her alone, Matthew,” Karrie says in the background. “Babe,” he hisses at her, “I’m talking to my sister.” Then he
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