The Pens lost the last game because they let the Flyers get in their heads and spent waaaay too much time looking up "defense" in the thesaurus and wondering if it meant "just kind of loosely shuffle the puck about."
Then there was the Joe Vitale drama, which we don't want to talk about. People are fucking rude.

Based on this photo alone, could an argument be made for Letang as a Christ figure?


Still, Jesus wouldn't make a super obvious dive while already on the power play.
Kris, why'd you have to do that? I guess we can't say too much because it turned out baller in the end.

Marquee event:

James Neal embarrassed Andrew Ference when Ference instigated with him. Pretty sweet for a pure goal-scorer.
Other marquee event:

Sid embarrassing people.


The Penguins still need to do a lot of defensive (and in general) soul-searching. 99% of this game was turnovers and weird shit and we got lucky when the refs bought Letang's dive and put the Bruins in a bad penalty situation and we managed to score 2 goals. Bruins looked dangerous at times, they could have ran away with this at any time. But the game was slow and weird and the Pens had desperation at the right moments. And Johnny was solid.
Just don't see these faces in your nightmares.

This is another weird year in which the Penguins are paralleling our lives, probably. All business and then stuttering and stumbling and breaking at the last moment.

This woman looks identical to a woman who called me a disgusting whore in TD Garden about two years ago. Wonder if it's the same lady.

Speaking of nice ladies, there's some biddy named @colwolfe on Twitter who thinks that Joe Vitale sucks. She deleted her tweets where she basically hoped he was dead. Class move.
BIDDIES FOR DAYS.
help

Go Pens.

Because we are tired of sleeping.

Tony Granato for President.
Peter Laviolette is a child.
Go Pens. no comments

I have no idea what happened for most of two periods of this game because I was eating a sandwich and yelling about things. I'm sorry that this happened and I understand that my allegiance to my team might be called into question. But: I consider my weekly interaction with Other Human Beings for reasons other than school, work, or necessity to be imperative to my mental health, and therefore a step on the way to me being a total big deal individual who has a super important job/a pile of money and can afford season tickets. Living the dream?
OH YOUR BANK ACCOUNT BARELY HAS ENOUGH TO COVER RENT?

NO WORRIES, ZOË, I GOT THIS.


YEAH ZOË YOUR SOUL'S HEALTH IS ENSURED BY OUR BATTLE LEVEL


WE MAKE A LIVING DOING WHAT WE LOVE EVERY DAY.
YOU CAN ALSO DO THIS, YOU KNOW.

I MEAN YOU MIGHT NOT BE A FUCKING MAN-GOD OLYMPIAN WITH A BODY OF STEEL WHO CAN KICK ASS ON ICE SKATES BUT YOU ARE PROBABLY FUCKING GOOD AT SOMETHING, RIGHT?

 
So.
Be not afraid.
All chances are chances.

These playoffs are going to be emotionally tumultuous in a very different way than they have been in the past.
It's not 2009 or anything, but this is indeed some next-level shit.
If you find yourself in legitimate tears because of a Brent Johnson win in March, you know that something crazy is about to happen.

Stop crying.
Eat sandwiches.
Pens win 5-3.
See you Sunday in Philly with a torch in hand, ripped clothing, and a thirst for flesh.
GO PENS. 

So there were a lot of things that went wrong last night.
This is what happens when we start whipping it out and screaming OH MY GOD EVERYONE LOOK HOW HUGE IT IS!!!

"Hey, Hey Steve, check it out."
"Goddamnit Sid, that is the last time you get me."
"Heh heh heh. Gay."

 We can't get too cocky, because that ends up with two games lost to the Islanders.
Something came out of this game, at least.
You realized that it is possible to promise your soul to God, swear you'll be at service every week, cry uncontrolably, and scream "NEVER MIND, JUST HIS NOSE" all in the same shaky, terrified breath.

Our thoughts exactly, Dupes.


Injury porn, for those of you into it.
(Maybe just me.)

Now, I am writing this recap with my tenuous-at-best grip on technology - as the penguins failed, so has very laptop in this godforsaken land. I literally have the charging cord thrown over my shoulder, because for some reason slight tension upwards on he charging cord makes it work if I don't move at all.
Don't laugh at me. You've done this with wires before.
Anyway, check back tonight for, what's that?, A SURPRISE SECOND POSTING.

We'll get over this.
To hell with you, Isles.
Go Pens.

Hello, friends.

I have had some plague lately, which is most unfortunate, but it didn't stop me from witnessing Sunday's game in person. WHAT A SHOW.

Illness has also not stopped me from applying my sound hockey knowledge (read: blind luck) to my fantasy hockey league, in which I am engaged in a bitter showdown for first place with my friend Dave, who actually, you know, cares and makes trades and stuff. I apply a strategy I call "Root 'Em" which mostly consists of me picking the guys I like and then cheering really hard for them.

My team has two of the three guys in this picture. One of them has 19 goals. The other is Sidney Crosby.

I also attribute my success to MAF.
And Brian Elliott.

PREGAME SHENANIGANS

One of the Sedin-bots has a concussion. Can robots get concussions? Did that elbow to the head knock some of his RAM out of place?

I don't have anything else to make fun of. I am just delighted that we're playing awesome hockey and that the playoffs are nigh.

MOMENT THAT MADE YOU CRINGE

The Islanders score first. Balls.

The face on that guy in the background really says it all

MOMENT THAT MADE YOU CRINGE THE MOST

Grabner scores with 3.6 seconds left in the first period. 

Is there anything more annoying than the Islanders? Because if there is, I haven't found it yet.

MOMENT WHEN I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF

The first Penguins goal was The Loveliest. We all thought it was Dupuis' goal, but Kennedy got the blade of his stick just barely on it, so it's his goal, but I'm so happy that the Pens scored, I don't even care.

I may have screamed a little bit.

Okay, I screamed a lot.

PRETTIEST PRINCESS MOMENT

Kunitz to Neal. In your mouth.

Or, as our dear friend @dupweeee would say, "JAMES NEAL BEFORE ZOD"

INTERMISSION

Dinner was ready, so I took a break from recapping, which obviates the need to write anything about the three goals the Islanders scored in rapid succession.

On deck for dinner: Roasted Tomato Soup.
And the husband grilled me a cheese.

MOMENT WHEN YOU WENT "SHIT OH DEAR"

Paul Martin's elbow and MAF's head collided with one another.

No one is ever going to hit the jackpot in #paulmartinpowerball

I hope MAF is just shaken up a little and isn't concussed, because that would just be the extra mayo on the shit sandwich that has been this entire injury-plagued run. Yes, we are currently doing awesome, despite injury, but the point is, WE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THIS CRAP.

MOMENT WHEN I GAVE UP RECAPPING THE SHITSHOW

Every so often, a game like this happens. And it makes you want to tear your hair out.

But then a game like Sunday's game happens, and it's glorious.

It reminds you why you love hockey.

I love hockey no matter what - the soaring highs, the dizzying lows, the creamy middles.

We wouldn't want it any other way.

ALT THREE STARS

1. James Neal, always
2. Video footage of the Civic Arena press box demolition, for making Steiggy and Errey (and all the viewers at home) cry a little
3. All of us, because this morning we woke up in Pittsburgh (and not Long Island)

Go Pens.

Pens played a response game against New Jersey tonight. If ever there was a seed of doubt, we buried it and willed it to be a mother fucking olive tree or something equally elegant.
The Sens are trash, the Devils are almost just as bad. Pens need to play well against any team, obviously, but it's somehow more important when they're in your division, when they're making apparently legal tackles on you at every turn, and when they are still holding Petr Sykora hostage. Sigh.

Pens came out and embarrassed Brodeur. Just really next-level shit from Malkin and Kunitz.

When the skies open next above their heads, it shall rain pure puppies on little poofy clouds.
Brodeur tried to get his mojo back by sliding around in butter during the first period, but it was all for naught.

No baked goods were harmed in the making of this hockey game.
(This information has not been fact-checked.)

But then Fleury basically did the same thing. Had a behind-the-net adventure that went terribly, terribly awry. Om du möter varg. Crosby made a bad play on this.


Late in the period, Jordan Staal used his Long Reach™ to score a goal. It confused Brodeur so much he thought it was a vanload of Twinkies. But it wasn't. It was the spiritual embodiment of Pterodactyl Sod, or something else that Steiggy and Errey probably yell in their sleep.

oh man

2-1.

The Devils would never regain the lead, there would be no evil spirits in attendance tonight. Lovejoy, who left with an injury early on in the game, probably used his remaining energy to absorb them. Even the absurdly empty seats couldn't stop. . .The Pretty Party. The second period really was a pretty party.


Dupuis seriously looks like he is in one of those creepy Friskies commercials.


The beauty of Marek in his natural habitat.
Some hard work by Crosby's line paid off. Dupuis went in for a sick rebound. Brodeur was stunned.

O M F G YOU GUYS

There are for some reason not pics of the rest of this game yet on the Internet.
Towards the beginning of the third Kovalchuk scored some layup that will probably be conflated into offensive prowess yet again.
Oh then Crosby had some ridiculous breakaway. Made Uncle Dad look average. Which he is average. And fat. And Uncle Dad.
Mostly fat.
Good to get a breakaway back for the team, Sid.
God, remember how having a healthy lineup felt ridiculous in like January of 2009? DO YOU REMEMBER SID BEATING UP THAT GUY ON THE PANTHERS WHOSE NAME WE CAN'T REMEMBER? Ancient history. Maturity? Maybe?
Malkin put home the EN.
Go eat some fucking pizza. It's late. It's Sunday.


Honestly if the Pens lose this game in spectacular fashion you probably start to feel just a teensy bit worried about the playoffs. Sometimes you can overcome a bad start but it's a lot harder to overcome a bad finish. It's just temporally closer. But the Penguins are giving the top teams in the league (St. Louis and NYR) reason to worry about their stupid regular-season glitter fests.
We generally prefer not to win the President's Trophy, but we hope that there's some swagger left to get them through to the end if they do.
These playoffs are going to be kind of emotional no matter what happens with the rest of these games.

Glitter in the bank. Watch the fuck out.
Go Pens.

P.S. Who in the name of tits framed this shot. This is not 9th grade art class.

This is a hot mess and we're not dealing with it.
Anthem singer killed a baby before the game. Bank on it.


The great Brad Thiessen had a strug.

Sid had some goal. Things looked good until the Sens shat on the Universe.
But never you mind. Good teams recover from days like this.

Go Pens.

Okay, I know awards shows have been scarce as of late.
 But really?
Is it necessary in games like this?
How about the award goes to the entire team?

Oh wait wrong team pic.
Hold on...

OH LOL SORRY AGAIN
Here it is...

OH LOLS GODDAMNIT
WHERE IS THAT PHOTO?
I guess we'll have to wait a few months for the photo to properly complete this thought.
Goddamn you press, get a time machine already. 

So what can stop us now?





NOTHING BITCHES

Do you smell that sweet, sweet smell? That is the smell of champagne tinged with industrial cleaner used to keep the sacred bowl cleansed.
Get used to it.

The only real thought asides from "CELEBRATE ALL YOU CAN" is "Come on, Sid, when ya gonna do it?"
Playoff spot CLINCHED.
Pshhhhhhh. Like we didn't know that before this game.
When it's in the enemy's net like, immediately after the game starts, you know we are aching for some real hockey and not this normal season jobber nonsense.
If you weren't drunk in celebration by the end of the first, who are you? You need to take some notes before the playoffs begin. Learn what is good for your team. Do your part.

We are so, so, so, soooooo ready for playoff hockey.
P.S. We miss Hal Gill in a sexual sort of way.
More to come. ROAD TO THE CUP.
Wait.
ROAD TO DA CUP, MUTHA FUCKAS.
More appropriate title for this playoff season.
God.
Curry.
All of the deities.
Go Pens.

The Winnipeg Jets will eternally remind us of the early-mid 1990's when everything was topsy turvy and strange in the world.
We still stand by the fact that the current Winnipeg Jets are a strange trick being played on us by the space-time continuum.
Perhaps we can break this curse by comparing all 12 goals scored in this game to outfits from the wonderful corner of the Internet that is FUCK YEAH UGLY 90'S CLOTHES.

The first Penguins goal dawned with confidence and brashness, like Drew Barrymore in a leopard print bra. I mean, no one expected Tyler Kennedy to finally make good on one of those sweet setups from Sidney Crosby.


Yeaaaah gurrrrllllllll.

Immediately, Jim Slater and Bryan Little comes back and score some goals, putting the Penguins down, and at least a tiny bit stunned. Not that they showed it in their play at that moment, but run-and-gun and sloppy defense was the name of the game. Little's was on the power play, a 4-minute high stick on Evgeni Malkin that actually was kind of an accident. But no one cared.


This was our soul at that moment. Just really ugly stuff.

But the Pens got a PP after Toby Enstrom did something stupid. Letang passed to Sid who made some insane god-tier pass to Malkin who sent it across for James Neal. James would soon be the Pretty Party story of the night. Unbelievable existence.

BARBIE JEANS WEEKEND
for those following along at home, that makes it 2-2.

Vey early in the second, Malkin's line goes out for a standard, in your face type shift. No one knows what is happening. It was a bold move, but someone had to do it.

And oh my, that hair. We'll see you later, James Neal's Hair.

Bryan Little showed up at the party again. The one he was very directly not invited to.


In an odd turn of events however, Tyler Kennedy was invited, and brought all of the honeys with him and Sid. Is this bizarro world or what?


dat ass.


And then there was Malkin.

At this point, Ondrej Pavelec had a fucking meltdown and had to leave? We're not really sure what happened there. We feel bad. The Thrashers used to have Pavelec, Kari Lehtonen, and Johan fucking Hedberg which made them, on looks alone, perhaps the most fuckable goaltending trio of all time. We still sympathize with Ondrej as well because we think he is probably a cool guy in a bad situation. We have many happy memories tied to the Thrashers franchise, usually to do with fantasizing about Johan and beating them to death.
We feel this picture best represents Ondrej:


Stapleton scored. We didn't want it, but it happened.

Paul Martin lost his man like 2 times in this game at least. Man.

James Neal rolled up though and told us not to worry. He accepted the pass and put it behind Chris Mason. Who we barely remember is alive. Poor fellow.
James Neal would like to welcome you to his heaven, which is also our heaven, but might be your hell. Second career hat trick. First with the Penguins. The homecoming is sweet.


Some ladies might like vintage Gosling? We really do prefer James. We have to admit.

Best Day Ever.

Malkin then scored some completely unrealistic goal that to the Jets/Thrashers must have been just an epic punch in the balls. I mean. How did he even aim that for the net?
Sometimes people score goals from way behind the net that are just like "umm, physics just quit on the universe, we don't even know." Then there are some where you think it might have been intentional. And the bottom falls out of your worldview.

But in a good way.

Dupuis had a snipejob too, for good measure. If you're going to allow four you might as well score at least twice as many for insurance.

Here is Alyssa Milano in a strange hat.
We've got nothing else. Just sloppy bullshit compounded with total offensive domination.

It's an interesting point that the Jets power play is amazing at home and dead last on the road. Could they be a case study for how much the "extra man" of the crowd can affect the outcome of the game?

PRETTY PARTY




God we are so spoiled.
Hope you enjoyed the post as it comes from the innermost depths of our souls.

GO PENS.

It can't all be singing and laughing and drinking the blood of our enemies out of a golden chalice while 80s music plays on a continuous loop in the background.

 
No, not like the blood of Christ. This involves no symbolism. Bitches be literal.

Sometimes bad shit happens in the midst of awesome things, like when you go to summer camp and make a lot of really cool friends and win at capture the flag and the canoe race but then at night in the cabin your camp counselor touches you in your bathing suit area.
That's what this felt like.
Philadelphia touched us all up in our bathing suit areas.

 
Yeah, that person holding the sign?
That woman who thinks it's still the 90s / man who thinks it's still the 80s, the one with the fine sheen of determination and possibly a coating of Italian dressing - that human touched your no-nos. 
I HOPE YOU WEREN'T SAVING YOURSELF FOR ANYTHING.


"No, I'm sorry, I only date women who would be able to handle a unicorn if the situation arose." 



Craigsy makes it happen in the first period, which was a pretty intense period, considering it was a Sunday game. 
We sort of wonder if the players feel like us, and look at the clock saying "really, I am expected to do this now?" Not that any time is a bad time for hockey, but sometimes a bitch has to wash her dishes while the sun is still up.

There's a lot of over-the-pants action for the rest of the first and for almost the entire second period. Nothing gets done, but the foreplay is, well, it's junior-year-of-college good. And just like in college, just when you thought it wasn't going to happen and that everyone involved was wasting their time,

Score.
Now you have something to tell everyone about during your study group.


No lewd caption necessary.

Of course, then came the backlash.

Simmonds and Fatty manage to tie it up in the third, thanks to a lot of luck, and the distractions caused by a professional athlete somehow having MULTIPLE CHINS.


OT was fast and head-on. It flew by, but not quickly enough, because Fatty grabbed it in the last second. 
.9 seconds left, to be exact.

So the Flyers walked out of this one with two points, but not really through skill and talent. Just thuggery and deceptive fatness.



(It took everything in me not to turn their sticks into lightsabers in this one. Goddamnit.)

But really, how can you expect Philly to keep it classy? They never had any class to keep.

Whatevs. We get a point, we're looking awesome, and we couldn't care less about Philly. You know why?


The King has Returned.


Go Pens.