Combining Senators hockey with a contempt of the human condition since 2007.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Leafs 5, Choking Pig Dogs 4 -- Please Pass The Mashed Potatoes. It's Next To The Kick In The Scrotum
I didn't get to see much of this game, so I guess I should be thankful. We sat down at our friends' dinner table just after Alfie's goal to make it 1-0. Before that, the boys were flying around, intent on crushing anyone and anything clad in blue and white and generally making Toskala's life a living hell. So as I tucked into my roast chicken (delicious!) I was positively giddy with the certainty that this game was pretty much done, and we'd once again make the Laffs our bitches, pound Darcy Fucking Tucker into paste and make Paul Maurice cry like a girl.
Um...right. By the time the desert dishes were cleared (chocolate fondue...also delicious!) and I could turn the t.v. on again, it was 4-4. Thirty seconds later, the Leafs score the winner and Bob Cole is (gleefully? Was that glee, Bob? I'm pretty sure it was glee.) telling one and all that the Sens had blown yet another two goal lead. Then I got drunk.
It's a tossup as to whether the nausea, aches, cold sweats, head spins and soul destroying sense of helpless outrage I'm feeling right now are the result of way to much plonk, or that familiar and ever so sickening reaction to losing a fourth straight game to THEM in what amounted to a playoff game two weeks early.
So I'm going to go lay down now. If I'm feeling better in a couple of hours, it was the wine. But I doubt it.
Unapologetic sports fanatic (blessed with an incredibly patient wife...and my own Man Room). If they keep a score, if there's a winner and a loser, or if the participants stand a better than average chance of bleeding (especially that one), I'll watch it. At least once. Well, except for cricket. I'll NEVER understand cricket.