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I applied to be a Boston Blades Ice Boy

Drama! Twists! Turns! Colorful, tight short-shorts!

It was a cold, November after noon. Waiting for my next class, I checked my twitter out of boredom. Little did I know that what I was about to find would alter the course of my entire life.

The Boston Blades were looking for ice boys. Despite my flabby physique, inability to skate, and overall gracelessness, I knew in an instant that I had found my calling. I looked down at the Tara Watchorn bobble head sitting peacefully on my desk and silently mouthed the words "I'm coming for you". And I was off.

I quickly and ferociously sent an email to the address listed at the bottom of the page,

I fell into an instant despair, however, when I received a "Message could not be sent" error from my email provider.

"How can this be?", I thought. I quickly panicked. Could it be a joke? Was all some sort of, non-serious ruse? How could this be! Surely there was no way the email address could be anything BUT serious! It's so serious it even has the word serious in it!

But, I calmed myself. Boston Blade's GM Krista Patronick's email address was also listed as one to contact. "There's still hope!", I thought. Quickly I wrote my email to her. While waiting for her response, I began  to prepare. I searched online for the most ridiculous tight, colorful short-shorts money could buy. I busted out my 80s dancerobics VHS tapes and began practicing the moves religiously.

But, sadly, it was not to be.

My dreams had been dashed, but throughout this epic, seemingly endless 20 minute saga, I had learned something. I had learned that you can't always get what you want. What kind of world do we live in where something as arbitrary as your gender can prevent you from living out your on ice dreams?