This photo has become the new story of our lives as hockey fans.
Why, oh why, are the Habs always trying to burrow into our anuses as though it is the place that they belong most in the world?
We are so disgusted that we briefly considered canceling the awards show, but then Barry called and told us it was an issue of National Security that we get it done, so we are here. Begrudgingly.
THE “WHO IS THIS FAGBAG” AWARD
Some person with the last name Tool is singing the national anthem after warming up with some gay little tune about loonies and bagged milk.
While he hits all of the high notes correctly and generally performs an extremely difficult song admirably, he is not this man:
So really we don’t know what the fuck he is doing on our ice.
By the way, did everyone forget Jeff Jimerson in the hair league?
He is all three of my players.
Try beating that, bitches.
THE GORDO AWARD
Max Talbot starts the game off by trying to do things correctly.
He’s throwing things at the net, making good passes, and then at some point actually clears the puck in a pinch. We’re pretty sure someone slipped something special into his juicebox and told him it was the playoffs before the start of the game.
Anyway, before long shit starts hitting fan and before long Lapierre leaves his feet in an effort to murder Tanger. One thing leads to another and before long Mike Comrie is bustin’ skullz.
Mikey gets the Gordo award because we just wanted a reason to think of Gordo.
He was hot when I was 13.
Good job, Comrie. You’re already being less of a dick than we thought you were before you donned the black and gold. We’re warming up to you quite quickly.
Carry Price is still a dick, no surprise there.
We’re momentarily distracted when what appears to be a wall sticker gets stuck in Malkin’s breezers.
If only God had cast us as a Giant Eagle advertisement on the wall of Consol Energy Center in this role we call life.
Next time, big man, next time.
GREATEST TRAGEDY TO DATE
We’re already going through a pretty tough range of emotions, and no one has even scored yet. Paul Martin is somewhere, beasting people’s faces off. We’re lusting after paper products, remembering preteen crushes, and wondering what Max Talbot had for breakfast this morning. It’s as though it was the first night we could take a breath and truly act as though hockey season is back, with all its trappings, making us gaze in wonder at these men, thinking more asinine thoughts that what an average cat is thinking during a 17 hour nap.
So, as we enjoy our illegal feed, because apparently Boston and Philadelphia refuse to give us a healthy dose of Bob Errey in a legal way (and we can’t afford Center Ice), we are depending on the mental and emotional stability of the person controlling our feed.
Can they keep their shit together for three hours?
More often than not, no.
[Insert 9/11 joke of questionable taste here.]
What type of person do you have to be in order to turn off a hockey game and instead watch a CNN news report on Comic Con?
Not the type of person we can deal with.
Well, there’s only one other option, and that’s Canadian television.
Don Cherry, here we come.
MOMENT WE DON’T EVEN WANT TO TALK ABOUT
Cammelleri has our full permission to eat a dick.
MOMENT WE ALMOST PACKED UP AND WENT TO CHURCH ON PRINCIPAL
Karma is a bitch, and for a moment tonight that bitch was our best friend who had one too many drinks and was ready to defend our honer from anyone in the bar who gave us what she construed to be a slightly negative glance.
Kuni gives Subban some incidental contact lovin’ while Subban is already on his knees. How do you high stick someone on their knees? We’re yet to figure it out, but we’re sure we could ask the refs. They seem to know the secret.
Kuni somehow gets four on the bench for cutting someone who needed cut by total accident.
We’ll accept it because Karma is taking photos of us together and saying we’ll be bffs to the end.
Little do we know after that next whiskey sour things are going to take a turn for the worse.
Frenemies: the universal edition.
THE MOMENT YOU TOOK A BREATH AND CALMED DOWN
You’re starting to worry that the Consol Energy Center is cursed.
You briefly wonder if we never won a home game this season if they would demolish the new arena, or if you would have to burn it down yourself armed with with a molotov cocktail, a six pack of Iron City, and Braveheart-esque war paint, screaming “SUCK IT DRY, CONSOL” while you watch it burn from the roof of the Civic Arena.
Oh, hai Malkin!
“Whoa, not having limited view seats is kind of neat. Where was that new nacho stand again? What? I have no idea why I was mumbling about Braveheart, Jim. Stop looking at me like that.”
THE HONORARY TYLER KENNEDY AWARD
Letestu skates down and takes a pass from Mattie Cooke and they are both going about ten trillion miles per hours. It’s so fast that we have to watch the replay five times with our jaws dropped to really appreciate how slick that five hole shot was. Even Letestu looks surprised that the puck squirmed its way under Puff Puff Price’s pads.
Everyone involved is ecstatic.
Press really comes through with one of the most adorable photos we’ve seen in a long while.
Seriously. That is just too cute.
WORST 24 SECONDS OF YOUR LIFE THAT YOU WILL SOON FORGET WHEN WE WIN THE STANLEY CUP FOR TEN CONSECUTIVE YEARS, ONLY PASSING ON THE TITLE WHEN MAX TALBOT DECIDES HE NEEDS AN EXTENDED SUMMER VACATION TO REALLY GET THE SPIRITUAL ENLIGHTENMENT HE WANTS OUT OF DISNEY WORLD
We don’t know who these Mike Cammalleri and Scott Gomez people are, and frankly we don’t care.
If you were wondering, we pass the title on the the Blue Jackets.
Max Talbot finds Jesus in Spaceship Earth, and then we reclaim the Cup title to infinity and beyond.
MOST AMAZING EARS
I was just rereading my game convo with Zoe for the recap and noticed something I had previously missed.
While the Canadian feed was dying due to some satellite issue our second feed host was having, Zoe was cruising for another FSN feed.
She found one.
How did she identify it?
“I just heard Potash sniff.”
OFF TO A SURPRISINGLY GOOD START FOR HAVING FORMERLY BEEN A NOTORIOUS PIECE OF SHIT THAT ONLY MADE OUR LIVES MORE DIFFICULT
Giving this time-honored award to the press.
MOST SOUL SEARCHING
Re: The Coming Years
ALT THREE STARS
1. Paul Martin
2. Subban’s Jugular Vein
For making it the entire 60 minutes
From a time when we were too young to know that I was a full blown shiksa.
Don’t stress too hard. It’s game two, it’s the Habs, it’s all going to be fine and there is nothing to worry about.
Also, you always have the hair league to look forward to.
Some real points were handed out tonight.
Some available hair!porn to make you feel better:
Remember, when you forget the faith and think that all is lost, it is only the beginning of the season.
As Emily sent us a reminder of: