When your hair looks this good, why waste it on a hockey game? That’s right. The Portland Winter Hawks have gone from being in almost last place to almost first place. See what a few weeks and Brandon Dubinsky will get you? Doo-by! Doo-by!

However. I do not know much about hockey. I do not even know if they won. (The score was 2-1, Winter Hawks, when we left mid-second period.) You will have to ask Hockey God about that.

“It’s boring!” says Wacky Girl.

“I am planning on never skating again,” says Wacky Boy.

So we left my husband at the game, sullen and grumpy because his family does not share his love of hockey, and went to Roux instead.

The people on the train? All drunk and crazy. And a little original. One guy with no legs was sitting up front on his skateboard, watching the action. Another guy blocked the door open when he got off the train, cuz he wanted to talk to his new friends.

“We’ll get together. Man! Yeah! We’re drinking some 40s, ‘aight? Yeah, that’ll be great, some OEs. Yeah, man! I’ll see you!” (They were making plans for a beer date, at a later date. No exchange of phone numbers, aight? They’ll see each other. Some day. That’s tough enough, Ponyboy.)

So I’m thinking, “Dude is desperate for friends.”

After he leaves the train, the guys he was talking to look at each other. They smile these huge, happy, blissed-out smiles and the one says to the other, “He is a great guy.” The other says, smiling, “Yeah.”

It was a beautiful moment, and made me realize what a cynical bitch I have become.

Then, here comes the gaggle of 10 or 12 drunk white ladies.

“We’re trying to go to Lloyd Center!” (East of where we are. We’re heading north, toward Vancouver, Wash.)

Helpful smiley guy says, “Ya’ll want to get off this train, cuz you’re going the wrong way. Take the train back toward Rose Quarter, and catch the line going to Lloyd Center.”

I suggested, “Or go to the Alibi. It’s a tiki bar. They have karaoke!” (4024 N. Interstate Ave. — look for the neon.)

“Do we look like karaoke people?” a couple of them asked, tittering.

Smiley guy and I look at each other, look at them, and say, “Yeah.”

“Yeah, I guess we do, right now,” one of them says.

Back to dessert… Roux is fancy-schmancy Cajun-Creole place in our neighborhood. Why get one dessert when you can get two? And I’ve decided — being waited on by super-professional, trained wait staff is The New Dating for me. They met our every need. They were helpful, but not over-eager. They have a great dessert menu — some coconut shortbread cookie thing with fancy sorbet; a coffee ice cream sundae; a sampling of chocolate delights and… BEIGNETS! With a trio of sauces — lemon, chocolate/chicory and caramel.

Wacky Girl says, “They were very, very good. They’re a kind of biscuit and you dip them in the stuff. They taste really good. If you dip them too much they get mushy and gushy and too gooey.”

The frozen chocolate souffle, with a Bananas Foster kind of flair to it, was also just spectacular.