Game F'n 7

I'm still not sure what happened last night. The Bruins played a solid game 5 on 5. They had multiple chances and were skating well.
And then the refs took over.
I DON'T KNOW WHAT A FUCKING PENALTY IS ANYMORE. IS THAT A SLASH? IS THAT A HOOK? IS THAT A GAME MISCONDUCT? OH DON'T WORRY, THE REFS HAVE THE REQUISITE SKILLS NEEDED TO MAKE THE CALLS...RIGHT??? RIGHT?????
There were so many offenses that the Habs got away with that I can still feel the bile rising in the back of my throat. This game should have been 8-1 with all the PP time the fucking Habs had, but solid defensive play and some sparkling saves by Timmy kept the boys in it.
I don't often hide behind the excuse that the effing reffing decided the game, but last night was indeed a case of this. There were two clear-cut calls: Patty's delay of game and Looch's hit (and on this one, I would have given him a 2 minute minor, not the game misconduct). The refs were obviously trying to keep the game under control. Aside from those two calls, the Bruins were penalized for offenses that I've seen all fucking series from the french assclots that call themselves the Habs.
I'm so sick and fucking tired of watching Gomez lope up the ice and Hamrlik's "my skates are filled with cement" and Subban's "oh look at me, I'm god's gift to skating" and Gionta's perfect little goatee and Spacek's mongoloid features and White's nasty, crackhead trucker haircut, which looks like it smells like dead hooker in a trash bag sprinkled with rotten hemorrhoids. And don't even get me started on that sallow-skinned Kostitsyn. I know for a fact that guy has some communicable disease that results in his white blood cells eating all of his red blood cells. And his asshole.
So Game F'n 7. In Boston. Playoffs. The Canadiens. If the Bruins can't muster the effort and drive to win this game, then they don't have what it takes to win the Cup anyway.
Oh yeah, and Kaberle still sucks. If I see him flub one more pass, skate at half-speed to a puck or do his little blueline spin-move one more time, I'm seriously going to start looking into methods of eye removal so I don't have to gaze upon that bullshit anymore. Or maybe I'll just catch myself on fire circa 1967 Buddhist monk.
All or nothing.
Do or die.
Win or go home.
Fries or onion rings.
Hall and Oates.
Go B's.