I work somewhat fucked up hours (I'm pretty sure like my fellow Xbox friend Winston Smith, who generally logs on about ten minutes after I do) and it's rare and quite a treat when I'm able to sit down and watch the game live...of course this means that I have to sit through the moronic, mouth-breather ramblings of Mike Milbury (I know one of these nights Kathryn is just going to flip the fuck out and tell him to shut his stupid fucking suck, and I'll have it on DVR, and I'll be able to watch it whenever I want), but you can't win 'em all, you know? I mean how can anyone think that Milbury knows a fucking thing about hockey? This is the guy that once climbed into the stands and hit a guy WITH HIS OWN SHOE, like some Italian grandmother that prays to spirits and spends three days cooking meatballs and wore black for five years when JFK was killed. Granted it was funny, but who the fuck fights like that? And anyone that wants to challenge me on my "he knows nothing about hockey" comment should research the following: look what he did to the Isles back when he was GM. He fucked them for years to come, trading away several of today's premier players and generally acting like a fucking mook. So suck it. And Noni Milbury can suck it, too. I lace my boots TIGHT, so if reads this blog, gets angry and shows up at my house, he ain't getting my chosen footware (Matterhorns, size 13) off.
The boys had a decent effort going until the phantom call against Thornton. He got called for a trip, but I watched the replay in super-slow-mo HD and I posit that the following happened: Thornton managed to catch the string of the tampon that the Wild player had carefully and with jittering hands inserted pre-game, laughing nervously saying "I've only used pads before this!" while Mikko Koivu undoubtedly sat in the next stall reading the instructions aloud ("first use your left hand to spread your labia ma....major...majora? Is that right, majora??") and advising him on the perils of TSS (if you don't know what that is, you never had sisters, and though I may envy you, sometimes they had hot friends that made having sisters tolerable...until they all laughed at you for wearing GI Joe underoos under your baseball pants...which you had put on to make the ladies think you were cool in the first place...self-defeating effort on my I MEAN my friend's part). When he moved his stick, the tampon came out, dropping a few salsa-like spots of blood on the ice. The ref that made the call was/is also on his period, and was feeling bloated, bitchy and was craving something with salt and chocolate in it (maybe a Hershey kiss rolled in salt, yum!) saw a fellow sister in pain and embarrassed, and made the call. I'm sure they're now curled up on the couch, eating fucking tostitos dipped in ice cream wrapped in laffy taffy and are having a good ol' girl talk about the mean words that Thornton uttered.
Like I said, I saw it all. It's right there in the replay if you look close enough.
So they bowed out tonight, but what the fuck. The boys have been on the road for like three years, getting 8 out of 10 points, and must be tired.
So I'm looking forward them beating the ever-loving shit out of the goddamn Habs on saturday night. It's too bad that Lapierre was traded, because he's the only punk on the Habs that even comes/came close to playing a physical game. And yes, I say that with the "fight" between David "My Sister Hits Harder" Krejci and Mike "My Penis Is Inverted, And By Inverted, I Mean I Have Mangina, Please Don't Pick On Me, I'm Having A Hard Time Pretending To Enjoy Playing In Montreal, Where Even The Strippers/Crack Whores At Super Sex Know My Average Time On Ice, I Mean Seriously, What Does A Guy Have To Do Just To Get A Little Tug Job From A Chick And Not Think About Hockey For Three Fucking Seconds" Cammilleri in mind, because I wasn't too impressed.
The boys better be ready to play saturday night, and I better be impressed, otherwise the troopers will be trying to subdue me as I fling my own feces at the team bus as they head south on I89 underneath the overpass by Carter Hill Road. It's close enough to my house...even closer if I'm drunk and on rollerblades. Some of it's downhill and I'll be getting a ride back in a green and gold cruiser, so I don't even need to bring water to stay hydrated.
I'm just saying.