you can’t even can this heat.

This skeleton crew sails on, on this ghost ship of DREAMS.



LYRICS ARE IN THE DESCRIPTION apparently. 
Whatever.
If you didn’t know this boogie was for real without lyrics, you don’t need to be listening to this song. 

Pittsburgh was suffering some major oxygen deficiencies this evening.
At least that’s the impression everyone got when they realized that they couldn’t fucking breathe for several hours this evening.
Get Barry on the horn. We need FEMA in here with some major emergency relief.

Better yet, let’s just get Marc-Andre Fleury, who has never let hordes of desolate individuals lay to waste in the raging tides of HORRENDOUS POTENTIAL DISASTER.
 
I DECLARE IT OFFICIALLY NOT “TOO SOON.”
 But really guys, it’s been awhile.

Anyway, what the hell happened tonight.
It’s all a blur.
You have the most stressful first period ever, to start with.  Hopefully no one following the series was too unsettled by the fact that the Flyers drew first blood, because the official theme of this series is to NEVER DRAW FIRST BLOOD EVER WHAT ARE YOU THINKING DO YOU WANT THE GODS OF HOCKEY TO REIGN PUNISHMENT DOWN UPON YOU COME ON SERIOUSLY. (TM). 
But going into first intermission down can really get you to hit a little too hard into the moonshine. Which is okay. As long as it is what you did last time we won. If you aren’t following through on wearing the same clothes, drinking the same drink, and sitting the same way you sat the last time we won/scored, you are simply not doing your part as a Penguins fan.

The second period was a fucking whirlwind.
Can you remember a faster period in a first round series, ever?
 It’s all love and hope and weird Scottish lawn care commercials in retrospect.
Oh, and this:

You can never go wrong with the classics.
Agreed upon by that amazing lady with the tallcan of Miller.
And that dude who may or may not be every human’s sophomore year of highschool chemistry teacher. 

Then we get to the third, which was just hanging on for dear life.
Once again, may we say
mafmafmafmafmafmafmafmafmafmafmafmafmaf
 

Hanging on tonight was a Big Deal.
We all know that it was just Hanging On, though. 
We’ve got two more games here, and it’s do or die, every night, every period, every play. There is no room for error.
Luckily, this is playoff hockey and history means nothing. 
Each game is a new day. The only carry over is momentum, and we’ve got it.
So we have to beat the Flyers two more times. Who cares if we had to beat them five more times?
We play the way we have to, every single time. There is no other answer. There is no other way. The only alternative is crying silently to yourself and watching repeats of Swamp People, telling yourself that it didn’t have to be this way.

Tyler Kennedy does not understand Swamp People. There are no ponies.
Jordan Staal is from a fucking sod farm. His official view is “what is a gator and why do we need it?”
Sidney Crosby does not own a television with any sort of cable package that allows heathen nonsense to appear on it, only closed circut television that plays repeats of his every mistake and success. 
Neal…well. He kind of likes SwaMp People, but ONLY IN THE OFF SEASON COME ON.

Uhhh.
Moving on.
Here are some photos that Define Our Generation, in no specific order….

MAFass.


 Snuggles. Brooks looking weirdly unmurderous.

Don’t dislocate a shoulder on the glass, boys. Fair warning.

Kunitz looking casual after destroying a life or five.
 
Seriously all of the cutest photos came from this moment.
We can’t get over it.


MAFlove.

The reason 10+ girls are already one chapter into Jordy/MAF slash at this exact moment.

And, most importantly, the greatest omen:
pepper
Pepper Staredown.

We have an uphill battle in front of us, folks.
But really, half the fun is in the struggle.
Let’s make this a series we talk about forever. Let’s make ourselves revel in the fact that we let Philly get so close to victory that they could taste it, and, knowing them, already started celebrating it, before taking it away.
Here in Pens land, we know it ain’t over till it’s over.
I didn’t hear the final buzzer of the series yet, did you, Philadelphia?

Keep working hard, Pens.
Keep striving.
Keeping believing.

Go Pens.  

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