Go to the mirror right now. Look at yourself and say, “Plaid suit” three times.
James Neal and Claude Giroux will be fighting to climb out.
(If you’re too young to know Candyman or Beetlejuice, ignore that.)
When someone’s watching, you always think, “I’m definitely going to mess up.” Like a cute guy smiles and you spill your drink, or you trip walking up the aisle at your wedding.
Imagine 36 straight hours of people watching you, recording it for posterity and the enjoyment fans everywhere. You might get flustered.
You might forget how shirts work.
(Side note: What if James always puts his shirt on like this? And never knew it was weird until we all laughed?)
In case you’re new around here, NHL 36: James Neal premiered last night. If you took every ‘N Sync song ever recorded, covered them in chocolate and injected them directly into my bloodstream, I would feel like this. I had to stop it twice in the first three minutes just to squee.
Most the the show (like most of this blog) was dedicated to James’ hair. It really is Grade A Hedgehog-quality. He is afraid of losing it, so he only washes it once a week. A dramatic re-enactment:
Then he styles it like he’s weeding a garden:
For a final polish, he lets Dupuis perfect the coif with his stick right before taking the ice for warm-ups. This is obviously television gold. You want to see the whole thing?
At the very beginning, watch Jordan in the background. He’s trying so hard not to laugh. Literally three seconds into the broadcast I knew I was dead.
Other things we learned:
Paul Martin is definitely James’ girlfriend. James buying the house across the street is a little stalker-ish, really, but we’ll let it slide because he obviously loves breakfast.
Everyone thinks of James as their little brother. We want to know in what world people’s little brothers are James Neal, and where they live so we can grow up next door to them.
His favorite color is purple. He’d fit right in at Sweet Valley High.
You know the Stamkos-eating-cereal commercial I’m always going on about? James one-upped it by using my favorite, Honey Nut Cheerios.
He’s bad at soccer, has beer in his fridge and drops an occasional F-bomb. In the last 30 seconds he wises up and goes with full-body spandex over a cup – I’m just saying, that’s like Batman’s suit. He knows we’re watching.
The verdit? Dorky perfection. Me, unsupervised, throwing pillows around the living room. And lots of volunteers to help James Neal decorate that big empty house.