Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Sens 2, Preds 0: I Wish To Register A Complaint!

Excuse me, miss?? Not sure if you're aware of this, but you have been declared dead. Ya hear me? DEAD! Dead and buried! Passed on! This team is no more! You have ceased to be! You've expired and gone to meet The Bryan! This is a late hockey club! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If we hadn't nailed you to the ice, you would be pushing up the daisies! Your metabolic processes are of interest only to historians! You've hopped the twig! You've shuffled off this mortal coil! You've run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible! This.... is an EX-PLAYOFF TEAM! And now...NOW...you run off five in a row?!?! Bloody hell.

The Highs:
  • No no, h-he's not dead, he's, he's restin'!: You finally got your shut out, Alex! Bravo! And for your just reward, you get the start tonight in Denver. I'm happy for you, really. But...um...you know how you tend to be a little...how to put this gently..."streaky"? A tad inconsistent? Yeah, sure you do. So, with that in mind...any chance you can give us a heads up before your next trip to the Suck Barn? Could ya? That would be great.
  • Remarkable bird, the Canadian Fisher, isn't it, eh? Beautiful plumage!: Fantastic game, Mike. No goals (natch), but your sweet pass to Furbligno (tm TUC), and the stupid speed that generated the (missed...natch) breakaway, coupled with your usual tentiness (tm...ME) inducing crash and bang more than made up for it. Pity you didn't have anyone special with whom to share it, eh? What? Why is everybody looking at me??
The Lows:
  • Well, he's... he's, ah... probably pining for the fjords!: Sorry Alfie, but nobody gets a free pass around these here parts, no matter how close he may be to a Living God. When you look out onto the ice and see SheanDon skating on a line with Heater and Giggles, you know you're having a bad night. And you were.
  • And now for something completely...the same: Note to the starched shirts at TSN: Please have P-Mag tested for a bi-polar disorder. Last week, the only thing that kept him from burying the Sens completely was his preoccupation with the genitalia of a certain Boston Bruin defenceman. Last night, we were the greatest thing ever to don the blades. Either he's very, very ill, or a complete fucking idiot. Your call. Oh...and one more thing. The next time Torts holds himself up as a paragon of communication and people management should be taken as a sign of the impending Apocalypse. Feast on the goo inside each other's skulls accordingly.
The Creamy Middle:

Okay, now your just being a bunch of cock teases. I'll let you in on a little secret. A buddy of mine (FFS-lurker-under-suitably-obscure-user-name and fellow cube dweller) came to me today to expound on his theory that you will in fact make the playoffs. When I opined that that was rather unlikely considering the (now) 22-5 streak it would take to get you there, he ponied up a crisp green Queen to prove me wrong (for the benefit of any American readers, that's a twenty dollar bill and not a seasick Ryan Seacrest...just so we're clear). I took the bet.

Pithy Observation Of Questionable Importance:

OMG!! hes cute! U thnk so 2?? Hes SO cute! ONO!! BRB!!1

LOL!!! 2 close!! C U aftr! KTHXBY!!

Up Next:

Puck drop in Denver in about twenty-five minutes. Not sure if Darcy Fucking Tucker will be playing as he took last night off for "personal reasons". I actually hope he does. It'll be nice to see Fish smash that shit eating mug against a stanchion once and for all. Just for old time sake, you understand (9:00pm, SportNet East).

Enjoy the STREAK everybody!

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