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majestic confusion

BUT WHERE WAS THE STRUGGLE???
We’re not going to say that this was a clean win. But the general feeling of ceaseless grind was absent. The mountain was tall, but climbable. There was no thousand-yard-stare in anyone’s eyes, no “because it is there” attitude of desperation.
We just beat the fuckin’ Sens.
We didn’t even get too much jizz in our eyes.

MOST OVERWHELMING FEELING OF EMPTINESS, UNTIL. . .
Understandably, everyone is all blahblahblah Gonch blahblahblah power play blahblahblah balls blahblahblah Gonchar Gonchar Gonchar.
Interestingly, no photos of Gonchar were taken during this game for the benefit of history and society.



Pens bench stood up for this, according to the Twitter universe.
We are pure class. We are heroes. However, Gonchar was not the story of the game, neither was the ever-present OMG THEY HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY AND THEY ARE LIKE TWELVE comment regarding Bylsma and Clouston. The story of the game, for the first couple minutes, was absolutely nothing. Everyone had run out of things to talk about. Pens end up on the PP because Peter Regin, the small child who peed on our faces in the playoffs last spring, took some really ill-advised interference penalty.
PP hangs out a bit. You’re like whatevs.
Suddenly Mark Letestu is like, center point in the high slot, winding up to smoke defenseless Brian Elliott forever and ever.

Who doesn’t want to make love to this guy? Seriously. Sweet, dirty love. All night.
1-0 Pens.

WHAT NOW BITCHES
You can’t deny that sometimes there are yinzers and doubters who think that Sidney Crosby is just going to up and not produce one year, almost for funsies.
But then for some reason the Pens PP starts getting pucks to the net. Again. Sid is in the right place at the right time. Goligoski gets it to the net. It bounces around. Okay, take it to the side of the net. We didn’t see that one coming at all. . .

It’s 2-0. We’ll take it.

MOST PIMP STRUTTING
Comrie, Malkin, and Letestu are busy making things really difficult for everyone. Something tells you that they’re pissed. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Brian Elliott is reading his favorite book:

Malkin’s busy diving to push the puck into the cage though. Man.

New trifecta of bromance?
3-0. Well hello.

BEST EFFORT FOR YOUR HAIR LEAGUE ON THE EVENING

Deryk Engelland. He and Neil look like they are engaged in a furious man-hug of doom, which is what many fights in the NHL eventually devolve into. Bear-hugs, dancing, toe-tapping good times. They wrestle each other to death. Deryk gets a lucky few 10 points. And then disappears again into the generally-solid-defensive night.
This is followed by a Benny-Hill-Esque slapstick festival along the boards. Party for all.

PERIOD THAT FELT LIKE YOU SNORTED CAFFEINE
The second. Oh wow. So. First Daniel Alfredsson removes Spezza’s dick from his face long enough to score a goal. Kovalev and Gonchar get the assists, like their microcosm of justice for the night.
No one photographed the goal or any ensuing celebrations, so on our authority, we’re not sure it happened, other than a flash of a dream in a protein stain.
Then Dupuis gets a dirty one. It’s 4-1. Someone starts passing out sheets of acid.
Immediately thereafter, Letang takes a shot which shatters some Senator’s stick and goes in behind Elliott. Elliott proceeds to have an existential crisis and some Swedish child takes the net:

At intermission, we get some Dupuis hair:

aren’t you high by now?

MOST FOREGONE CONCLUSIONS
By the time intermission was over you had probably forgotten that Brent Johnson had fucked up Jesse Winchester in the face. Winchester bleeds, goes off to film some bad porno. Hutchinson sits in the box for it. Sens kill it. Then Spezza and Campoli come on our faces. NEVER MIND YOU THAT THOUGH.
Most of the rest of the period is a Beej Sexfest. Here is an example from the first period to illustrate:

You knew this was happening, because this felt like the back of a club in the 80′s and everything was gonna be just fine.

PENS WIN
5-2
Sorry about the jobber recap but we’re still trying to get the jizz out of our eyes.

INDIVIDUAL AWARDS

BIGGEST BALLS

Brent Johnson

ALTERNATIVE THREE STARS
1. Alexei Kovalev – because Kimberly misses him. Still. 1 assist for making all the Togliatti bitches in the house pregnant.
2. Ktang – he seemed rather lulzy last evening
3. Dupuis – working hard, getting goals.

really we wish we could just give all the stars to Letestu

until next time. . .

go pens.

Zoë

About Zoë

living in Boston, chronically fussy, fills recaps with references to Robert Scott's last march and literary theory among other things.

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