Friday, December 19, 2008

And the derby winner is...

Attention Vancouver!



Carry on.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

This ain't the Coliseum

As per usual, I am a couple of days late jumping onto the "hockey controversy train". Please recall this incident which occurred a few days ago. Now, someone getting as severe of an injury as Don Sanderson did is no laughing matter, nor is it something to just be shrugged off, especially in the light of how often fights break out in not only the NHL, but in every level of hockey. I'm not kidding when I say every level either.

When I first heard about this, I instantly formulated an opinion about it as anyone would (and seemingly everyone did). I have had a back-and-forth relationship with hockey fights for a long time and this tragedy only seemed to further confuse my position, but it simultaneously gave me a whole lot of things to say about it. Before I could gather my thoughts together for a nice rant though, Bob McKenzie of TSN had to go and spoil the party by basically calling a spade a spade:
"...I am also sick over how this tragedy has become a jumping-off point today to either rally around the game and how it’s played or to use it as an example of all that is wrong with hockey."
Basically, ol' Bob is saying that all the pro fight boosters and no fight naggers are taking the humanity out of this incident by using it as a rallying point. You can read the whole thing here. While I wholeheartedly agree with Mr. McKenzie's sentiments, I also can't help but feel a need to say something about the matter now that it has once again come to the forefront. I have no doubt that there are people out there using Don's injury as diatribe ammo without batting an eye, but I nonetheless feel that a debate is appropriate as long as it is in the name of preventing more instances such as this rather than for the far less important issue of "preserving the integrity of the game". Not saying anything about the cause of his injury while simultaneously declaring how terrible it is doesn't really make any sense to me. If we can all learn something from this, we are at least finding a small amount of good in a horrible situation and preventing more reasonless pain.

So now that I have established my moral bearings, my opinion: fighting in hockey is all cool with me.

If you knew me in any way beyond being an anonymous Internet pseudonym you would know that this is a rather odd stance for me to be taking. I am pretty much the most liberal, peace-loving, violence hating, kitten cuddling dude you will ever come across. But it should also be taken into consideration that not everyone is as good at controlling their temper as I am, and also that I live on the Internet thus limiting my most stressful daily moment to something between "oh noes I have to cook food" and "goddammit I need to go reset the router again". When you start considering the amount of nonsense that goes on on the ice (both intentionally and unintentionally) it is understandable that sometimes people are going to lose their cool. Hockey is fast and full contact and without a certain level of self policing, that wouldn't be possible; the man can't (and shouldn't) be the players' babysitters.

Unlike other sports combatants and referees generally adhere to a vague but rather effective set of rules. These have been listed and talked about many times, so I won't bother with the specifics of "the code" (although here is a fun article about it if you are so inclined). I feel that fighting is good for the players' well-being (that sounded hilarious, didn't it?) because it allows some fairness and balance to exist in the otherwise chaotic world of hockey. It is only human nature to want retaliation after getting hit by a questionable check, and having a round of fisticuffs accomplishes that in a far safer manner then retaliating with your own questionable check. I also think that fighting is okay in hockey but not in other sports due to the limitations imposed on a player by their gear. With all the padding protecting their bodies, the skates restricting their feet, and the lack of traction the ice grants them, hockey fighters are always being subjected to two sets of rules: physical and mental. Sure, there are still some gray areas in the rules that people squabble over like helmets (wear them!), visors (take them off!), the instigator rule (umm, no comment), and when a ref should step in to break up a fight (use your brain!), but a century and change of on ice boxing has led to some pretty decent guidelines that are almost universally followed.

Besides all that, it should also be mentioned that fighting isn't even the most dangerous thing going on on the ice. The puck is a frozen piece of rubber being smacked around at 90+ miles an hour and men weighing around 200 lbs are skating at high speeds trying to crush each other into either wood, glass, wood and glass, or ice with concrete under it. This isn't a safe game, and yet we play on. Just like everything else in life, there are risks involved, so make sure to keep your head up but don't let fear limit you.

But alas, it can't be left simply at that. While I have no problem with the idea and purpose of hockey fighting, I DO have a problem with the current state of it. The goons have got to go. The game is called "hockey" and not "ice boxing" for a reason. Fighting is a secondary aspect of hockey, and any player that is out there for purely enforcement based reasons shouldn't be playing the game. I don't doubt the will, hard work, or hearts of any of the many enforcers in the league, but I do have to question what good they really do when they use fighting to bully other players instead of as a last resort when someone is taking liberties. The specialized enforcer set of players are responsible for 90% of terrible on ice incidents and the mindset they are trained to utilize is something that is both counter intuitive to player safety and, less importantly, incredibly unexciting.

We need to stop talking about if fighting is appropriate and start talking about WHEN it is appropriate. When a player steps on the ice, they are not suddenly allowed to discard their humanity and be a thug with no consequences. That seems to be the mindset infiltrating hockey on all levels and it is the cause of most senseless violence in the game. It is ultimately up to us as consumers and/or parents to begin showing our displeasure against the more senseless aspects of hockey thuggery and to begin asking for skill and ability at all times rather then just settling for "big and violent" when the former is in short supply. Even to this day there are smaller more skilled forwards who are great at the game but are unable to participate in the world's highest level leagues because they can't handle the level of unnecessary violence thrown their way by the goon squad.

In the end it really comes down to this: If you want staged violence, check out the WWE or boxing. If you want a fast paced game involving skilled players skating at high speeds, shooting, and hitting each other (oh, and occasionally dropping the gloves when appropriate), then hockey might just be your game. There is no doubting that this is awesome. But the artificial cultivation of hockey fights, the goons, the websites, the junior league players committing violent acts because they think "it's part of the game" is not. A young man is clinging to his life right now because of a certain sect of people demanding that hockey players "pay the price" and that the only way to do that is to endlessly fight over every little thing. This isn't what I became a fan of this sport for, and I hope that goes the same for all of you.

With my rant over, I would like to direct your attention back to Don Sanderson's condition. His teams website is giving updates here and also offering an email address to send him good vibes. Hopefully, this will all turn out for the best.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

And who are you again?

Hi! I am Shawn - aka RoShaCla. I was recruited by Wrap for this little venture in blogging super-groupery and promptly disappeared when it launched. Life happens and such, ya know? But anyway, now I am here and ready to post tangents, diatribes, and other good stuff like that.

A little bit about me: I was born in New Jersey and currently reside in Arizona. I have been a NJ Devils fan since '94. I run my own blog called
King Of All Jacks
which I often ignore just as much as this one; I'm working on it though! I plan to keep the majority of my Devils coverage there and to try and talk about more broad hockey issues here. Hopefully I can make it interesting and get some discourse going in the process.

Now that my intro is out of the way, I'd like y'all to take a gander at the top of the page. Notice anything different? I felt the default banner wasn't cutting it, so I made one (not like I said I would do that a month ago or anything). Two days of not remembering how to use photoshop, looking for pictures of hockey players in tootoos, and struggling how to best represent niftyness in the clutch has lead to my current creation now adorning the top of this blog.

You likey?

The lines, besides obviously showing opposing forces going towards each other, also form a "not equal" sign when they meet the red (or rouge if you prefer). I thought this was a good way to show that either the forward or the goalie is going to win the battle. The ballerina was inspired by a quote I heard from a Mr. Al Arbour about how he feels about "cute" players.

So yeah. Leave me feedback. I'll be back with a real post possibly maybe tomorrow.

Why the wait for Mats Sundin drags on...

Hey, it's Shultzie. Or Hammer. Whatever you wanna call me. I have a little site called I Mean, We Got Guys... In addition I signed on to post here and have been horribly neglectful. Then I was watching tonight's episode of Top Chef on Bravo and chatting with Wrap. I said how much I think Stephan is an ass. She says "he looks like Mats Sundin." Lo and behold, inspiration to throw something together to show that I'm not just a coat rack around here.

I present to you Top Chef Mats Sundin!!





Glove tap to Wrap for the inspiration.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Awkward....

Here’s the transcript of Sean Avery’s apology phone call to Elisha Cuthbert. First, I sent it to Wrap Around Curl and Jared of London so they could hilariously edit it for those with virgin ears. At the end I put the all-out dirty version. That’s one thing Sean Avery and I can agree on. He may be queen douche of the ice, but boy knows how to swear. Oh, and some helpful background information: Wrap and I are convinced that Sean Avery is gay.  In fact, we would love for him to be. When he bursts out of the closet and marries Anderson Cooper, she called it.


Sean Avery: So, uh, I wanted to say sorry for this little, well, thing, you may have heard about…

Elisha Cuthbert: Sloppy seconds, huh? Want to talk about sloppy seconds? Well Mr. Vogue ice girl, we're each other's sloppy seconds, and I have every reason to believe that when we were together you were messing around with dudes. How's that for sloppy?

A: Uhm, you best not be spreading that around because I don't know what the jello you're talking about.

C: Oh, you want to go there? Fine. I know what happens with you agitators after you step off the ice. You want to get under someone's skin, right? How about their parsnips? You think I haven't heard stories about you taking out your aggressions in Rockem Sockem Robots between periods?

A: You are so full of rainbows...I wouldn't even bake...

C: Yeah, yeah, you wouldn't even bake me a cake. I know. We all know.  Girls have a sense for these things. It's because you'd rather be baking 

A: Lies! I called you to fudging apologize. You were a last-season floozy before I met you! I taught you how to dress, sugarpie!

C: Want to explain the cotton Haynes boxers I found in your equipment bag? Huh, Sean? You know you wouldn't be caught dead in anything but silk designer boxer-briefs!

A: They were Jaromir Jagr's! They fell in there by accident! Who am I to talk back to a team captain?

C: And what about the sunglasses you wore to your little meeting with Gary Bettman? You look like Victoria Beckham's main gay! And six games, baby! Didn't you bake him a cake hard enough?

A: You flaming peach cobbler! Frogging apologizing! You go give Dion Phaneuf your infested Georgia O'Keefe! I'm hanging the ponies up!

C: I'll see you on the cover of People magazine! Soon enough they'll buy you out and you'll join the ranks of Lance Bass and Clay Aiken. Just give it time!

(Both hang up the phone angrily.)


Hide the children! It's the dirrrty version!


Sean Avery: So, uh, I wanted to say sorry for this little, well, thing, you may have heard about…

Elisha Cuthbert: Sloppy seconds, huh? Want to talk about sloppy seconds? Well Mr. Vogue whore, we’re eachother’s sloppy seconds, and I have every reason to believe that when we were together you were messing around with dudes. How’s that for sloppy?

A: Uhm, you best not be spreading that around because I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.

C: Oh, you want to go there? Fine. I know what happens with you agitators after you step off the ice. You want to get under someone’s skin, right? How about their pants? You think I haven’t heard stories about you taking out your aggressions in steamy locker room showers between periods?

A: You are so full of shit! I wouldn’t even cum in your...

C: Yeah, yeah, you wouldn’t even cum in my face. I know. We all know.  Girls have a sense for these things. It’s because you’d rather be cuming up some dude’s…

A: Lies! I called you to fucking apologize. You were a last-season tramp before I met you! I taught you how to dress, ho!

C: Want to explain the cotton Haynes boxers I found in your equipment bag? Huh, Sean? You know you wouldn’t be caught dead in anything but silk designer boxer-briefs!

A: They were Jaromir Jager’s! They fell in there by accident! Who am I to talk back to a team captain?

C: And what about the sunglasses you wore to your little meeting with Gary Bettman? You look like Victoria Bekham’s main gay! And six games, baby! Didn’t you beat him off hard enough?

A: You fucking cunt! Fuck apologizing! You go give Dion Phaneuf your infested cooch! I’m hanging the fuck up!

C: I’ll see you on the cover of People magazine! Soon enough they’ll buy you out and you’ll join the ranks of Lance Bass and Clay Akin. Just give it time!

 

(Both hang up the phone angrily.)

Thursday, December 4, 2008

fashionisto.



Ahwwwwwww. Cheer up, buttercup! I made you look happy.

Did you borrow those sunglasses from Victoria Beckham? The suit? Very Daniel Craig Bond. Approve.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

fake boyfriends.


Sean, Sean, Sean? What am I going to do with you? You must be acting out because you feel inadequate. I will admit, your statement was pretty much the most hilarious thing ever. Let's face it, Cuthbert has been around the block. She's just a blond Milano. Whatever, I can't stay mad at you, babycakes. So why don't you come over tonight since you won't be playing... And we can kill this bottle of gin and get smashed while pretending to watch The Devil Wears Prada. You can say, "Oh Anna was never that icy" or "Anna never threw her jacket at me," and then we can forget the movie and just make out.

(photo: Bruce Bennett/Getty Images)

Monday, December 1, 2008

A Crosby Celebration

Here’s a detailed account of what I’m sure transpired after Sidney Crosby’s hat trick against the Jersey Devils. And now that my top three centers have all had hat tricks, this is the last one of these that you’re going to see for quite a while. I'm done, I promise. I just had to post the sequel. Why no Malkin story? I’ll write him a hat trick story the day he decides to learn English. Yeah, I’m pulling the bitch card on that one. 

 

CAST:
Sidney Crosby: Man of the night, knocked three goals home with that nice, straight sitck of his.
Jordan Staal: Is currently in a bet with Godard to see who can get Sid to say “fuck” in an interview.
Eric Godard: Gets to be in everything I write because of hockeyboyfriend privileges.
Max Talbot: Enjoys listening to his own French accent. Considers it part of his “chick bait”

 

Talbot: (to Sid) Heyyyy nice job tonight!

Staal: Yeah, looks like you just got a Jordan Staal!

Sid: Uh, you mean hat trick? Anyway, it looks like we’re in for a night on the town!

Godard: Oh shit… please no trannys…

Sid: no, I have something even better then trannys. There’s something special going on tonight and I juuuust happen to have four tickets…

 

Godard: Boxing championship!

Staal: New strip club opening night!

Talbot Glow in the dark bowling!

Lori: OMG The symphony!  (oops, sorry, I’m so not supposed to be in this)

Sid: No, sillies, even better! Cirque du Soleil! ONE NIGHT ONLY!!

(Collective groan)

Godard: Aawwwhh, man, seriously?!

Sid: Common, you guys! It’s the fine arts! Have some class! Talbot, you like French things, right? French wine, French kisses for Fu Manchu caught on camera and posted on the internet?

Talbot: Hey, I mean…

Godard: No. Just no. There are only so many times I can watch the clown slowly bend over and fuck himself. 

Sid: Uhmmm… you have three career goals. I had just had three in one night. We’re fucking going.

Staal: Teehee, you just said “fuck”

Sid: Shut-up.


(At Cirque du Soleil)

Sid: Am I great or what? Front row! You know, I’m good at smoozing the old ladies at the box office. The over thirty crowd loves me. It’s only a little creepy…

 

(The lights dim, ethereal music begins (Philip Glass, anyone?) and clowns in white leotards begin to mime across the stage) 

 

Godard: (gets up) That’s it… there has to be a bar.

Staal (jumps out of seat) I’m coming!

Sid: Wait! I want cotton candy. One of each color. Wow, those clowns are so supple...

Staal: No fucking way. There’s not enough liquor in the world to get me through this and that’s where I’m spending my money.

Godard: What am I? Your fucking date?

Sid: Hey, it’s my big night!

Godard: Big deal, you pull hat tricks out of your ass.

Sid: But…

Staal FEMALE CONTORTIONISTS!!!!!!!!

(All the boys stop what they’re doing and stare in awe.)

Collective: Oooooooooooooh

(Contortionists exit stage)

Staal: New mission! (starts running towards stage door)

Godard: Hey! Wait for me!

Talbot: Omg, we can make them our ice girls! Other teams won’t know what hit them!

Sid: Oooh, I want one….

 

Flash forward: Mario Lemieux’s house, next morning. Lemieux walks by Sidney’s room, hears noises, stops to listen.

Lemieux: Sid?

Lemieux opens door, is taken aback, and promptly shuts it. While walking away, he mutters under his breath, “Woah. Now that’s impressive…”

 

THE END

 

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Because, honestly...

Dear Toronto Media,

Shut up. I don't even have to provide any links to make my point. We all know what I am talking about. Just shut up.

Is anybody NOT sick of this story yet?

Sincerely yours,
Q

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Awkward voicemails.


Hey Sean? Can we talk? Like...I just feel like you aren't yourself. You know? I just give and give and give. And get nothing back. I am really not trying to be a nagging girlfriend, since we aren't you know, dating. But what the balls? A NECKBEARD? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I am sorry, but weren't you the Vogue whipping boy this summer? Whipping boy...Ok, back on task. The point is, I highly doubt Miss Anna Wintour would approve of such facial hair. But babycakes, you look terrible. Are you going through a bad break up with your other woman? Weren't you seeing the former Miss Calvin Klein? Or was it Ralph Lauren? Whatever. You need some fashion rehab. Karl Lagerfield could counsel you. You two can sip iced coffees in matching suits and skinny ties. Will you bring back the glasses? For me kitten? I know, I know you are probably totally emo right now. Your old team is doing uhm amazing without you, and the Stars aren't doing so hot. It sucks. Your ex is doing better than you after the break up. But you can't let their awesomeness rattle you. Give em hell and get all up in their kool aid. I expect more goals out of you. No really. Earn your paycheck. I am quite aware of your uhhhh physical strength and stamina. Yeah that. Bow chicka wow wow. This was my pep talk. And I think I left my shoes at your place. Sorry.

Monday, November 24, 2008

On Hate

As a Leaf fan, I have unwittingly become an expert on hate. Not racial, not religious, not linguistic.
I am an expert on Sports hate. The type of hate that every true sports fan has experienced, and in most cases holds against some team(s) and or player(s).
This hate is what keeps things interesting, it keeps rivalry's going and in many cases it keeps fans honest.
There is a line though, many fans have drifted into the dark territory, Blind hate. All this does is make the offender look, for the lack of a better word, like a tool.
Here are some simple tips on how to avoid blind hate.

1) Don't white wash.
Example : All *blank* fans are assholes
Truth: You're the asshole

2) Don't go overboard.
Example: Racism, sexism.
Truth: You're a huge asshole

3)Be realistic.
Example: *talented player for a team I hate* Sucks, he is the suckiest suck that ever sucked.
Truth: You can say you hate him, but denying his talent makes you a stupid asshole.

4) Have a valid reason.
Example: "I hate *Players name* because he plays for *certain team*
Truth: You're a clueless asshole.

5) Don't cross the line.
Example: your a *certain team* fan, your mother is a *not particularly classy lady*
Truth: You will end up a toothless asshole

Following these simple rules and you are well on your way to becoming a respected, although opposing fan!

Friday, November 14, 2008

A Staalsy Celebration

Hello, lovelies. Lori from Hockey, Football, and Stiletto Shoes here. You may remember a game on Tuesday night in which my boys on the Pittsburgh Penguins de-pantsed the Detroit Red Wings. This was all made possible in the third period by Jordan Staal, our jailbait cutie who played the third period of his life with a hat trick and an assist. Here’s a recreation of the night on the town (or “shit-hole” since it’s Detroit) that followed.

CAST:

Jordan Staal: The man of the night (and yes for the innuendo)
Sidney Crosby: The lost lamb in the Detroit ghetto.
Max Talbot: Keeper of the Fu Manchu.
Marc Andre Fleury: Flexible Frenchie. And yes, his teeth are perfect.
Eric Godard: Sex machine and also my hockey boyfriend. Back the fuck off.


Talbot: STAAAALSY! What a game! We’re getting you drunk, tonight!
Godard: Dude, not just drunk, lets get you arrested again!
Sidney:OMG! We’re all going out!

My boys stumble onto the streets of downtown Detroit lookin’ for a good time. They walk a few blocks, but Sid is scared of the ghetto “Godard, why are all the Detroit girls on street corners wearing ice girl clothes?” and he pushes the group into the first bar they find, a place called Manhole. They walk past some employees (lovely ladies with Adam’s apples, scandalous dresses, and fake, fake boobs) and take a seat.

Sid: Ooh, this is interesting. I’ve never been anywhere like it. Teehehe… our table looks like a penis.
Staal: Haha Sid! Look where you’re sitting! You just got shafted!
Talbot: (Dazed) I’m surrounded by men that smell like cheap perfume… I will never again complain about how fine ladies at Club Diesel won’t kiss Mr. Fu Manchu.
Staal: You gotta count your blessings, man. You don’t want Mr. Fu Manchu to get herpes, do you?
Godard: I need a fucking drink.

Waitress: Heeeyyyy boyyyyyys. You’re all looking strapping and manly today. Can I get you a drink? Margaritas are $5! (leans in) so are the handjobs….

Sid: Ah yes. Can I have crown royal and a glass of water?
Staal: (under breath) Pussy. (to waitress) Uh, yeah, I’ll have vodka and red bull. (Staal strokes the bottle of cough syrup he brought with him)
Talbot: Something expensive and French.
Fleury Same
Godard: Beer. As big as they come.
Tranny: That’s how I like them, too. (winks)
Godard dry heaves.

Just as the boys get their drinks, Jordan Staals phone rings. He picks up.

Jared Staal: Hey, I heard you had a big game tonight, player.
Jordan: Damn right. Looks like you’re not Mom’s favorite anymore…
Jared: I wouldn’t be so quick, Jordie. I have a feeling that high-sticking her favorite vase is still fresh in her memory.
Jordan: I swear to god, if you remind her of that I’m so NOT getting you a Christmas present, and last time I checked, I make more then you do, so it was going to be a good one…
Jared: You know what? I don’t even want to fucking hear about Christmas right now.
Jordan: Aw, sore subject? You were going to find out eventually. How the hell was I supposed to know that you still believed? You were fucking sixteen! I though you were just pretending really hard to suck up to Mom.
Jared: We’re not on speaking terms. Besides, where the hell are you? Do I hear Dolly Parton in the background..?
Jordan: Uh…. I’m in the finest Detroit club… and…. uh… there are lots of hot chicks. In fact, I think I’m getting laid tonight.

(hangs up fast)

Jordan: Phew, that was close

Eric Staal phones:

Eric: Hey, bitch. Nice game tonight.
Jordan: Thanks, bro. I do what I can..
Eric: Do I hear Dolly Parton in the background? Where the hell are you?
Jordan: Uh… the best club ever. Chicks love Dolly Parton, dumbass. I think I’m getting two at once tonight.
Eric: Uh, chicks with dicks. You think I’m stupid? Look, just don’t get yourself arrested again. Or photographed doing a dude. Mom’s blood pressure is still coming down from the vase incident. They might put you up for adoption again.
Jordan: Whatever, man. You’re just jealous… and you totally had an assist on the vase incident. Don’t even fuck with me. Eric: Oh, you asked for it.

(Both Staals hang up their phones angrily)

Phone rings again: Jordan’s Mom

Mom: Jordan? Where are you? I just got a very disturbing call from Eric.
Jordan: (under breath) Oh shit. (in phone) Uh, Hi mom. I’m just, you know, with the boys…
Mom: Is that Dolly Parton? I love her!
Jordan: Uh, yes, yes it is…
Mom: Jordan, we need to talk. Are you experimenting right now?
Jordan: What the… No..?
Mom: Maybe your father and I should have talked to you more. You know it’s ok if…
Jordan: Mom, No! Sid dragged us in here… I’m just…
Tranny approaches: Hey big boy…
Jordan (to tranny) fuck off!
Tranny grabs the phone: (with sass) Mmmhmmm. Excuuuuse me, but you’re talking to my sexy boy and we’re going to need some serious alone time. Uhhuh, Buh bye now.

(Tranny hangs up the phone and gives it back to Jordan)

(Jordan buries his head in his hands and sobs)

Talbot: Dude, looks like you’re getting an intervention for Christmas this year.

MAF: Hey, did Chris Osgood just walk in?  Is that him at the bar by himself?

Sidney: I think so. Look how sad he is. Isn’t it nice for that lady with broad shoulders and too much make-up to console him? Wow… they’re really comfy. Maybe they’re good friends. Wait… why is he giving her all his money?

MAF: Quick, before he leaves… Bartender! Hi, yeah, I want to buy my...”friend” a drink. Yes, sex on the beach, please. Yes, for the light-up penis straw. As big as they come Make it bitchy.

Talbot: Flower, you genius!

(Bartender delivers a puffy, pink drink to Osgood. The Penguins get to see flashes of his angry constipation as the light-up penis straw blinks. Osgood grabs drink and storms off with tranny.)

(Boys break out in laughter)

Godard, in all of his sexual and physical frustration, has been staring into space through out this entire fiasco. Tranny approaches.

Tranny: Hey, big boy. You look like you could use a little somethin’ somethin’.

(starts stroking back of Godard’s head)

Godard: I mean, I didn’t get to fight tonight… I guess I have some pent up aggression and tension that needs releasing..

Tranny: There’s a special back room… you wanna go? (winks) 

(Godard instantly grabs tranny’s dress and punches her in the face. She lays knocked out on the floor, one of her fake boobs rolls to Sideny’s feet. Everyone stops what they’re doing in club Manhole. All other employees look PISSED. They start to approach, no longer making an effort to conceal their voices, fake nails out.)

Godard: I can’t help my gut reactions! We’ve gotta get out of here!

The boys knock the penis table over in the mad rush to get out, and barely escape.

Sid is running crooked into the Detroit night after half a shot and a glass of water: I’m soooo drunk right now!

THE END

 

Monday, November 10, 2008

What's in Vesa's Manpurse?

Howdy ho, my Spanish Galleons, Loser Domi here. You know, I really do love the fine Toronto Maple Leafs blog Pension Plan Puppets. I just adore how the threads take such amazingly funny and odd turns. For instance, in this thread discussing the Kostopoulos hit on Van Ryn in the last Habs/Leafs game. New-ish Frequent commenter Mabel Mentioned Kostopoulos's infamous purse snatching incident.

JaredofLondon (he says he writes here as well, but I'm not sure...) and I got into a massive back and forth of win about what could possibly be in Vesa's manpurse (video here) The resulting chat is below:

by Mabel [on Kostopoulos]

Mabel :And

hee – purse snatcher.

Loser Domi: “but it was so cute! I had to have it”
Mabel: “and it goes with my outfit! See how it picks up the colour in my shirt? Adorable.”
LD“And I can store things in it without creating unsightly bulges in my pockets!”
JaredofLondon: He should have asked Vesa about fashionable man bags
LD: I still don’t get Vesa’s man bags. How much stuff do you need to carry around with you? I could fit most of my schoolbooks in that thing
JoL: Keys, black berry, wallet, laptop, lip balm, 26er of rye, lighter, ipod, flask, spare flask, pocket knife, fetching monkey, spare spare flask
etc etc
LD: lucky clear bowling ball with the skull in it, my mom, my pet giraffe, giraffe food, an extra sweater in case it gets cold, tide to go sticks…
JoL: and of course gum
LD:and another 5 back up flavours of gum (because you never know what kind you’ll be in the mood for)
JoL: lest we forget 7 kinds of mints, some of that sweet breath spray and drops and of course listerine cool strips.
LD: and hand lotion. You have to take care of your skin, especially with winter right around the corner. And sunglasses (5 pairs, because you never know what outfit you’ll be wearing and you want to match)
JoL: and gloves, incase it gets chilly, and a hat, and ear muffs, and a scarf
and a taster, and mace, and handcuffs, and my gat
LD: and duct tape and plastic wrap
JoL: and enough saran wrap to cover a room, and an electric wireless saw, and a box of garbage bags
LD: first off, I did a search for gat, and this came up. Also, rubber gloves (because you just never know),deed to a haunted Indian burial ground, vaccination papers…
JoL: haha, on gat, that is both so close and so far from what i ment ( was going for the gangsta phrase for pistol) but that is much funnier. Don’t forget your hockey stick and skates, you never know when a game of shinny is gonna break out
LD: and the pads. he is a goalie after all.
JoL: and an umbrella, cant have the rain mussing his hair.And extra hair product in case he cant get the umbrella up in time.
LD: or maybe just some replacement wigs and fashionable hats in case he doesn’t want to be bothered/can’t fix his hair. I think we have a post for Getting Nifty in the Clutch
JoL: hmm, this is a good idea.
LD: Lets see what other people think is in Vesa’s bag…

so, what do YOU think is in Vesa's bag? Leave your guesses in the comments

Saturday, November 8, 2008

a beacon of accuracy!

So in doing some holiday shopping. I stumbled upon this gem:


Capitals or Canucks? Sayyyyy what? It would be amusing to see Ohlund and Ovie playing together. They would have madcap Russian/Swedish (Swedssian? naw) adventures.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Fun In The Penalty Box

Well hey there. I'm Alix. I spend a lot of time writing at The Humming Giraffe . I'm a Canucks fan, but I'm looking forward to talking about other NHL goodness over here. Hopefully our rad super group takes over the internets. With a name like getting nifty in the clutch, I don't think it will be a problem.



The Vancouver Sun had an article about life in the penalty box recently. Alex Burrows and Kevin Bieksa talked about what they do when they're in the box. The article even mentions the awesome quote at the beginning of Slap Shot: "You go to da box for two minutes, ya know, by yourself ... you feel shame ... and then you get free." For your reading pleasure. I laughed at the Slap Shot quote like I always do, and then I started thinking about what different players would do while in the sin bin.



Guys like Todd Bertuzzi spend the two minutes checking out the women in the crowd. I think Bert probably misses all of the fake breasts he saw in the crowd in Florida.



Sean Avery totally mentally plans out his wardrobe for the next week. Prada high tops or Chanel vest? Ya know. Will his black nail polish go with his Gucci shirt?



Dion Phaneuf grunts for the first minute, calls himself a MONSTER! for thirty seconds, and then briefly ponders whether he got herpes from Elisha Cuthbert or someone else right before he steps out of the box.



Kyle Wellwood (although he never actually takes penalties) would drool over all the food he spotted in the crowd, and spend the time writing scenes in his head for his great Canadian novel.



Nik Lidstrom figures out his economic plan for when he becomes leader of Sweden, and then mentally inventories his antique glass bottle collection.

What do you think your favourite player does while in the box?

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

President Barack Obama

I think Kevin Garnett said it best: Anything is possible. 

He did it. Barack Obama is the President-elect of the United States of America.

How about that fucking acceptance speech. Was that not the greatest speech you've ever heard in your life? I thought the way Obama reached out to Republicans was most impressive:

"And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. And I will be your President, too."

Seriously, how beautiful is that? What a guy, that Obama.

When he brought up the story of 106-year-old Georgian Ann Nixon Cooper, I'll admit it, I got emotional. I pulled a Jerry Seinfeld: "What is this salty discharge?"

When it was all said and done, and Obama stood waving to the crowd, I couldn't help but sit there and shake my head in utter disbelief at the incredible oratory performance I'd just heard. A speech my kids will one day listen to and read about in school. It was a verbal orgasm, and I needed a cigarette when it was over.

As a Canadian who watched this election with tremendous fascination, I just want to say thank you to America, and to my American friends. Thank you for restoring my faith in you, and in your country. We're proud of you.

"Change is coming to America...A new dawn of American leadership is at hand...This is our moment...Yes We Can..."

Amen, President Obama. Amen.


Oh and, by the way, I'm eyebleaf. It's nice to meet you. No, no, the pleasure's mine. You can usually find me at Sports And The City, where I wax poetic on the plight of Toronto's sports teams. Now that I'm here, I look forward to many nifty moments in the clutch. Cheers.

Loser Domi's Letters

Sometimes I get the urge to write to someone, even NHL personalities. However, I usually have the sensibility to not hit “send “after I’m finished. However, I thought some of my fellow hockey fans and comedic persons would like to read a few of these letters .

Dear Luke Schenn,
My personal life is just full of fail. Could you teach me how to be more awesome? If that’s not possible, could you just please give me some pointers? You know, like a top ten list or something?

Dear Ian White,
Is Carlo Colaiacovo as cuddly as he looks?

Dear Gary Bettman,
Are people always after your Lucky Charms?

Dear Tomas Holmstrom,
You seem to fall down a lot. Are you narcoleptic? There are a variety of treatments out there. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Also, are you related in any way to Jennifer Lopez? Your ass to rest of body ration suggests as connection.


(Note, I’m actually Facebook buddies with Vesa Toskala, so I have to resist posting this)

Dear Vesa Toskala,
After I saw your video, I was a bit skeptical of your ideas. Then I discovered that pink and gray is a great colour combination. Thanks for the tip! Also, what do you carry that requires such a large man purse? Is it a man purse of infinite holding? If so, you’re about a billion times cooler than you were before (and believe me, you’re already pretty cool to me)

Sunday, November 2, 2008

forays into nerdiness.

My dabbling into geekdom is fairly well documented. I find playing Tetris very relaxing. Something about lining up and arranging colored cubes puts me in a zen state. This summer when I went to Seattle for Penny Arcade Expo, I had some peeps babysit my blog for the whole three days I was gone. Even while I was on vacation drinking Brawndo (it's got electrolytes) and checking out MC Frontalot, I still had to have someone pay attention to my site (thanks Schultz!).

When I am not busy playing said Tetris or watching Dirty Jobs marathons on the Discovery channel, I tend to kick back and stab the shit out of things in World of Warcraft. Hey, you have your games. Your Grand Thefts Autos and such where you drive around and fuck hookers and beat dudes. Or is it the other way around...Anyways, I take enjoyment in going all rogue. Not to be confused with Sarah Palin's going rogue and being a maverick.


Evilira. Isn't she friggen awesome? With her epix. She stealths about stabbing peeps with poison swords. Wicked damage is done. I highly suggest rolling a DPS class.

Despite my failing at math a few times. I am a numbers girl. I geek out over stats. I have this ritual of when I go to Chiefs games where I sit down and read the program in a specific order. I flip to the back page to read which player did the dorky questionaire. Flip to the front and glance over the stats summary for the match up. Skip to the stats for the visiting team where I look at the heights. A 6'6" defenseman? RAWR! I'd climb that. Then I glance at the names to see if they are a duplicate or rather, have a bro playing in the W as well and who is the better player. I take a glee in the WHL siblings. Such as the Bowmans.

Naturally, I had to see if I was the only Evilira or if there were ones better than me. Turns out there are few more but I am geared better and my guild doesn't suck. Get Crit, y'all! In your face duplicates. For some random reason, I decided to check out if there were any characters named Ovechkin...


Oh look there are quite a few. And one in a guild named Crosby Sux. It should be noted that Ovechkin is an orc warrior. Which seems oddly fitting. I mean, Ovie would have to be a warrior, charging into battle. He is a bit orc-like which I mean in the nicest of ways. So I was wondering what other players were out there with NHL names. To the Armory I went.


Boogaards Bruisers. They don't even have a tabard. Bunch of n00bz.


Oh all the Luongos. Someone knows what's up if they are rolling with a mage. And a frost spec'd mage. Since Luo is a master of ice. I can see him being human or blood elf. Gnome, not so much. Homeboy is how tall? I suppose Roberto could be a rogue with his wicked awesome agility and doge rating.


My search for Sedin so far pulled up the most number of characters including one who I am fairly certain is in a Vancouver based guild. I didn't pull up the roster to see if there was a Burrows, Bernier or Ohlund.

And my guild wonders why I will skip out on raid nights for hockey. Dudes, a girl has got to be diverse, mmkay?

Thursday, October 30, 2008

So it begins.

Greetings and salutations.

Apparently I don't have enough hockey blogging on my plate and decided I needed to work on another one (joblessness FTW! Probably FTL!). This one I think will be the most fun. I did some mind-melding with Steve Dangle and we thought, "hey, let's make a supergroup." But with hockey bloggers. Plus I wanted to know if other people think we are as funny as I think we are. Holy grammar, that last sentence was pretty much awful. But you get it.

Anyways. What we have here is a ragtag group of peeps that I adore. I would totally hang with them and grab a beer with them and then drunkenly attempt play Guitar Hero. This is how I choose people to associate with. We have no set plan or format at the moment. We are still getting our bearings. But hang tight, I think this is going to rule.

Our team affiliations are all across the board and I imported the Leafer bloc; Steve, Loser Domi, Jared of London and Eyebleaf. Steve makes some pretty awesome Leaf vids on the YouTubes. Domi is known for her amazing works of fiction in addition to LoLeafs. Jared is quite mysterious, much like the Stig. We know he is of the London area and enjoys the blue and white. Eyebleaf might own the greatest license plate ever. Ask him about it sometime. Roshacla is our resident Devil holed up in Arizona. But he is a Jersey boy at heart. Lori is reppin' the Pens and I think she is the one Penguins fan I have found I am able to not just tolerate but get along with amazingly. "Dave Schultz" is my homegirl when it comes to the W. Despite the fact our teams are division rivals. On deck to be added to the roster is Alix, resident Canuck and like me, loves Wu Tang Clan. Dani is a Spaghetti Cat enthusiast in addition to being a Sabres enthusiast. And the ever witty and intellectually nimble Q Girl, who I think has every QMJHL goalie stat committed to memory.

So pardon our dust and chaotic nature.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Wait...What?

Pants? No one said anything about pants.

It's starting soon...

Just lemme get my damn pants on, will ya?!