The first purchase I made after moving to New York City was a Winnipeg Jets sweatshirt from the NHL Store. It’s blue and has the classic logo emblazoned front and center, all frayed and distressed. God, I love that sweatshirt.

It’s while I’m wearing that hoodie I frequently tell women I was raised on an ice farm in Manitoba. I’m a terrible liar, so I don’t do it often, but I heart the ice farm story that never was. Basically, my parents were in the military, so while they traveled around the globe for the government,  I stayed on the farm with my uncle, who designed the penguin on all those bags of ice you get at the liquor store. Not coincidentally, the ice inside those bags is from our farm… I don’t know how anyone could believe such a preposterous story, but I guess those classes at the Upright Citizens Brigade paid off.

One time, some guy on the street tried to buy the Winnipeg hoodie off my back! I told him it was $100 or bust, because it was cold and I still had 20 blocks to walk. He was thiiiiiis close to doing it, but I’m happy he didn’t, even if my black market pricing would have netted me $30.

Two years ago, I thought I lost the sweatshirt forever. It wasn’t in my apartment, my parents’ house in Jersey, down at the beach house… Gone. Then, I got a package in the mail. My girlfriend had recently broken up with me, and she sent me my pint glasses (which I explicitly told her I wanted back). Included in the safely-shipped box was the Jets hoodie I didn’t even know she had. She earned back some good karma for returning it, but probably betrayed the Sisterhood of Exes, since their charter surely includes a mandate to keep all amazing articles of clothing belonging to exes and hook-ups.

So what’s all that got to do with anything? Well, the Winnipeg Jets are back to being mediocre in Manitoba (that could be a Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan romcom), and I’d like to honor them and my magic sweatshirt with this Jell-O concoction:I was going to use to Cool Whip for the white areas, but couldn’t find any and went back to trusty Greek yogurt.

I love the way the sun shines through the window across the Jell-O. This is before the final step, adding the yogurt to the interior.

The letters were harder to carve than you’d think, so I switched strategies and let the yogurt paint the negative space instead. Overall, the material is easy to mold.


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Half-artist, half-fish, half-monkey, the Mojo has defied logic, gravity and superiors in four different decades! This is his life, unfiltered, unrefined, underwear.

5 thoughts on “Jay Eee Tee Ess JETS JETS JETS!”

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