I woke up this morning in the SexCastle. I can't really remember last night, but I do remember something about possibly being the filling of a Jeff Skinner and Pekka Rinne sandwich.
I swear to you, picture of Jagr that stands in for my actual husband on this blog, nothing untoward happened. I think.
Anyway, it was a normal day, I was getting over my SexCastle hangover...and then, around 4 PM, the world exploded.
It's hard to believe the news that was coming across the Internet. Jeff Carter to Columbus? Mike Richards to LA? All for some random dudes? Bryzgalov's getting paid $51 million to suck down cheesesteaks and maybe stop a few pucks for what, nine years?
Up is down. Black is white. And everything you know about Philly is suddenly hilarious, if you're in Pittsburgh.
What are they going to do without two major goal scorers? I mean, someone's going to have to go out there and score some goals. Are they going to rely on Giroux? Hartnell? Or the man with my current favorite name in hockey, van Riemsdyk?
Come on. How can you not love that name? So goofy when printed on a jersey. So awesomely fun to say.
Are they entering some kind of Pirates-esque "perpetual rebuilding mode"?
Are they going to make a big play for Brother Steven?
I have so many questions and there are no answers yet.
Holmgren claims that “this had nothing to do with the financial (part) at all...what we did [today] was make two good hockey trades.”
Yeah. That seems...unlikely.
I do wonder how Bryzgalov is going to work out. It will be kind of neat to see him play more than once a year. I also wonder how Richards will fit in out in LA. We don't get to see a lot of west coast teams out here, so I imagine the news will come in fits and spurts.
The best analogy that I can make is this one:
Imagine that you have a social rival. Every time you go out with your pals, she's there. And you think that she is annoying as shit. It's not that you're jealous because she's prettier or more witty than you; you just hate her. And everything that she does. Irrationally. And when you try to explain this to people, you look like a crazy person.
Dudes think that you are nuts to get bent out of shape about the party that she had, at which she tried to one-up you on the Suzy Homemaker front by cooking everything herself, but not realizing that she can't cook and it all turned out tasting awful.
I Googled "Martha Stewart bitchface" and this is the closest thing I could find
The dudes think you're insane when you protest. But they're dudes. Some of them would eat dirt if you put enough ketchup on it.
Then, your social rival disappears from the scene for a while. You bask in the knowledge that you are awesome. Everyone laughs at your jokes. You are no longer irrationally irritated when you go out with your friends. You wear sparkly earrings and are the Zen master of your universe.
And when your rival comes back? She has two obnoxious kids and a really terrible baby-daddy. Her wit seems to have evaporated. Curry help you, you even take a wicked amount of joy in the fact that she got fat and her hair is all stringy.
You think, "I have TRIUMPHED," even if it's only to yourself. "I'm in charge here. This is my town and no skank is going to take that away from me."
She's the Flyers. You're the Penguins.