Ahem. It's been kinda quiet here lately. I just spent a weekend sleeping, watching British movies and TV, and watching lots of bad American commercials with some bits of football in between. I will say, however, that the Super Bowl had its best halftime show in ages, even if the rest of the production was rather lacklustre. It wasn't overly flashy, could be appreciated by all ages, and the music was, you know, good. Thank you, Sir Paul. The show was missing Shania Twain's bejewelled brassiere, but it had no lame publicity stunts that leave the mind scarred. Not because the stunt was indecent or immoral or anything silly like that, just because it was a Jackson, and that's just creepy. Hmmm... why didn't Shania have a wardrobe malfunction? That would have been an awesome halftime show.

We are days away from the NHL season being officially cancelled, the owners have made a compromise proposal, and the players have rejected it, again. Ho hum. Pretty much the same old, same old, with one interesting twist that verifies my opinion of the players union.

The owners have proposed that they accept the players' proposal from December, and if certain spending triggers are exceeded, the owners' proposal from January would kick in. An interesting compromise, but the players turned it down because they feel the triggers would be hit at the beginning of next season.

Let me get this straight. The players turned it down because they believe that their original proposal will cause salaries to increase beyond any possible growth in revenue. Well, isn't that exactly why the owners turned down that proposal in the first place? Didn't they claim it was a one-time fix that would bring the state of the league's finances back to its current state after only a few years?

Am I missing something, or did the players just admit that their proposal doesn't work?

I did something very dumb the other day. In a fit of mindlessness after a night of eating too many chocolate-chip-and-toffy cookies, I decided to give up Oreos for Lent. Stupid, stupid, SPU. Didn't I know this would be the end of me? It's day two and the unfinished box under my desk is already taunting me. I've gone Lent-sized periods without cookies before, but those have always been accidental, so to speak. Now that I've gone and told myself I wouldn't have any for 40 days, it just seems so far away. This can't end well.

The Oreo box is still staring at me. I should keep a log of my adventure through Oreo temptation; The Lenten Oreo Log. Today is day 3. The recently opened box is a new discovery: Golden Oreos. They are Nabisco/Mr Christie's response to the trans-fat fad, as they are entirely trans fat free. You would think that's a good thing; Oreo has always advertised that they have less fat than other cookies, and now there's a trans fat free variety. Examining the nutritional info on the side, however, reveals that while there is no trans fat in the Golden Oreo, there is 66% more regular fat than the traditional variety. So, which is the lesser of two evils?

As a side note, only an Oreo nut like me would know that the term "Golden Oreo" is redundant, since one of the possible derivations of the name "Oreo" is the French word "Or", meaning gold, which was the dominant colour on the original packaging. I know you were all being kept up at night wondering about that.

Last night I played a soccer game and two ball hockey games, an unexpected exertion of energy considering the lack of Oreo energy in my system. I had a somewhat poor and diminished performance playing goal in the third game; a predictable outcome. I did, however, score a hat trick playing as a substitute forward in the first ball hockey game, but I attribute that rare burst of prowess to the subconscious desire to impress the cute girl on that team. I can also partially blame my poor performance in game three on the distractions caused by said girl.

As I sit here at work, listening to the Peanuts theme - which is making me hungry - I lament that the NHL season is hours away from being officially cancelled after yet another round of failed negotiations. This, I also blame on a lack of Oreos. Perhaps if Bettman and Goodenow ate more Oreos they wouldn't be such jerks.

It is a black day, as the NHL season has officially been cancelled. Not even Oreos could help raise my spirits now. The owners and players have taken the game and tradition we love and held it hostage for millions of dollars.

I try to be civil, clean, and eloquent in my postings to this site, but just this once I have a brief and blunt message to the greedy owners and greedy players that put us all in this situation right now:

After winning all of my ice hockey games in the first two weeks of the season, allowing only three goals in three games, we have tied our last two matches against a pair of teams we certainly should have defeated; a combined seven goals per side. I can feel the Oreo force in me waning, and it's starting to dampen my reflexes and hand-eye coordination, and possibly worsening my astigmatism. Optometrists should survey patients' Oreo-eating habits to determine a correlation between Oreo consumption and severity of ocular ailments.

On the train this morning, half asleep, I was flipping through the free daily Metro, and came across this article with life-sized picture. Great, now they're mocking me.

Last night I discovered a new facet of Oreo withdrawal. It's a phenomenon I call "Oreo Transference". I have yet to uncover all the secrets of Oreo Transference, but here's what I've figured out so far:

Somehow, during last night's ball hockey game, I was able to harness the collective Oreo energy from those in the near vicinity and use them for my own aims. That is the only reasonable explanation I have for heroically maintaining a shutout through more than 35 minutes of play, only losing the perfect score amid ruthless barrages with less than 15 minutes remaining. It is evident that Oreo Transference is strongest when the emitting and receiving nodes are in close proximity to each other, because our team's top scorer gave the ball away directly in front of our own net five times throughout the course of the game, an action he is not normally guilty of committing. These events, of course, required me to increase the rate of Oreo Transference from my teammate as well as the opponent facing me in order to thwart his efforts and complete the highly improbable save amid the cheers of the fans above.

The fact that the shutout was lost in the waning moments of the game suggests that I have not yet mastered control of Oreo Transference. Perhaps fatigue had weakened the connection, or some kind of interference broke the Transference beam.

I must dedicate considerable efforts toward the study of Oreo Transference. My goals should include increased control and stability of the rate of Oreo Transference, as well as directing the Transference, such that I draw Oreo energy only from selected providers. If such a feat is possible, I can limit Transference to members of the opposing team, allowing my teammates to perform up to their complete skill level.

Clearly, this is a breakthrough in Oreo science. I am certain you will soon be reading about my discoveries related to Oreo Transference in reputable science journals and cook books everywhere.