Bruins 4, Sens 3 (SO): It's ALIVE!!

So! I am ready for you meine liebe. Are you ready for me? Ready for Fuchsmachen?? Oooh, I love it when you're excited! Come then, my little Apfelstrudel! Come into my arms and let me hold you!

The Highs:

• Oh Nicky, you so fine, you so fine you blow my mind. Hey NICKY!: At the risk of furthering an already alarmingly homoerotic theme (not that there's anything wrong with that), there may yet be hope for that dark time which will henceforth be known as A.A. No...not that one. After Alfie. One highlight reel goal, one ridiculous pass for the assist on Giggles' short lived go-ahead...Yep. I'd hit that. Wait, what?
  

• My little runaway, run, run, run, run, runaway: Ryan, dude. Holy crap, I had no idea you had the wheels. Any chance you can get Fish to chase you around the rink a few times? He's been a little sluggish of late (personally, I blame Carrie), and I'm told he doesn't respond unless he has some serious competition. You know, like Seabiscuit.
  

• Sweep the leg!: Brian Grasshopper, you grow stronger with each passing sun. Man who catch Phil Kessel wrist shot out of thin air, accomplish anything. Listen not to those who would doubt. No, really. Don't . Please? You're all we have.

The Lows:

• You do realize, we could have taken Marc Staal, right?: Not your best game, was it Master Lee? But, I have to say that I'm happy you're getting your sophomore jinx out of the way during this, the most wasted of seasons. I look forward to seeing you come back to camp next year with roughly fifty pounds extra muscle on that skinny frame of yours. And the ability to complete a forward pass. That would be cool too.

• You are dangerously close to being dead to me: In a game where everybody else finally got the message and flew around the ice, you were...you. I'm done defending you, Jason. Your goal was a gift from heaven, and entirely undeserved. Not sure you've noticed, but the Deadline fast approacheth. But deep down, you probably know that, don't you?

• You can't spell "Fellatio" without "Pierre McGuire": Note to comedy club owners everywhere, your newest ventriloquist sensation is here! Not only can P-Mag (tm DHS) tell you that the Ottawa Senators Hockey Club has done everything the wrong way since expansion, but he can do it with Zdeno Chara's dick in his mouth! Reserve now! Seating is limited.

Creamy Middle:

A little tidbit relayed by the TSN crew during a stop in play caught my attention (no, really!). Apparently, the Floating Giggle Meister himself opined that the practices run by Coach Cory were light years quicker than those Coach Craig imposed on our little wall flowers. "Game speed", was the term used. If the resulting effort we saw last night is anything to go by, then maybe we (and by "we" I mean "I") may have given Coach Craig a little too much slack. Maybe that was it all along. Not that we'd have been a serious contender by any means, but...I'll leave you to ponder that as we cast a disinterested eye on the playoffs come April.

Pithy Observation of Questionable Importance:

Early in the first, Coach Cory glared at referee Dan Marouelli, after a typical Dan Marouelli fuck up, and I thought to myself, "By God, I've seen that face before! But where?" Then it hit me. This:


Led me to this:


Which led me to this:


Which means...Welcome to Ottawa, Coach Chucky.

Up Next:

The suddenly, and alarmingly resurgent Buffalo Sabres come a courtin' tomorrow night, the first of a home-and-home, and the last home game before we bury our playoff chances for good with five straight on the road. I hope, for the sake of the Buffaslugs, that they've studied last night's game tape. God willing, this ain't Hartsburg's Senators. (7:00pm, CBC)

Behind Enemy Lines:

Welcome D.O. and SBNation's Die By The Blade. Once a humble Blogspotter, just like myself, he's gone on to bigger and better things and we congratulate him. Let this be a lesson to all interweb scribblers everywhere...Who knows what circumstances await any of us in this murky future of craziness?