Bizarre. Odd. We don't even know what to say about it. The awards show is short because we're fairly sure that Brother Steven snuck into our rooms last night and started whispering
sweet nothings mind games into our ears.
MAN YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IN AWHILE
Mike Smith is a man of mystery. Why does it seem like every game we play in Tampa we end up facing not Mike Smith, but some jobber dude who has never played an NHL game or something? But we'll take Mike Smith. We are interested to see where this all leads.
BEST GOAL SCORED IN A MIDDLE SCHOOL CAFETERIA
Someone named Tyrell scores.
We think he is 13.
He wears #42.
We don't know what to say, but we're scared.
BEST PENALTY KILLS EVER
Dupuis gets nabbed in the neutral zone for some penalty. You feel like it's going to be one of "thoooooose" nights.
(Hint: it is, except not the kind you're thinking of)
Immediately the Lightning give up a 2-on-1.
Cooke passes the puck to Craig Adams. Bam. There are no photos. Craig Adams' penis destroyed them.
Then, on the same penalty, like three people crash the net and Cooke scores. It is a joyous occasion by all.
Fleury is making some little saves. Smith is looking out of sorts.
Craig Adams goes to the box. Gets out, immediately assists on a goal. What?
Dupuis makes it 3-1 Pens.
Mike Smith is on quaaludes. Goes to locker room. jslghlsdfkdjsn
WELLY WELLY WELLY WELLY WELLY WELLY WELLY WELLY WELL
After this out souls turn into a slow-burning Centralia-esque coal fire. The lead disappeared. Things were bad.
Pens can't convert on chances for shit, somehow.
Evgeni Malkin hauls down Sean Bergenheim and causes a penalty shot to take place. Fleury is okay with this. Bergenheim kept trying to come on our faces. We didn't let him:
We did catch Martin St. Louis doing things. He must have done them when we weren't looking.
From a theoretical perspective we see games against Tampa as horrible exercises in unreality.
This is the opposite of hyperreality. This is unreality. Or are they the same? Put your short answer in the Blue Book and pass it to the front.
Cocksucking empty netter.
pens lose 5-3 what
ALTERNATIVE THREE STARS
All are being given to Craig Adams, except one-half star which will go to the empty seats on the glass at St. Pete Times Forum. Not that they needed your support, clearly.
Martin St. Louis should be baked into a pie.
Friday. Flyers. Bring it.
Gentlemen, get your shit together.
You can head on over to the hair league points page to get an updated look at the points for each player. And an updated leaderboard, but we'll mention it here anyway:
1. Tied for first with 107 points: Strudels & Doodles, Alyssa T's Team, Anna H's Team.
2. Kaitlyn Made Me Do It with 90 points
3. Stache and Patch with 85 points
Fun fact: the highest-ranking team that doesn't have Max Talbot is #11.
He is such a media whore.
A bajillion people have sent/e-mailed/tweeted this to us because of this:
Based on the content of the interview, we believe that this actually took place before the puck drop on October 7th, which means it technically doesn't count. (Same deal with press photos of the boys on the red carpet at CEC on opening night--they weren't available online until well after the game started, but that doesn't mean they count.)
So: what is your thinking on this?
Short of calling Sean Conboy and asking him when he did the interview, we really can't be sure, but we can ask for a general consensus among participants in the Hair League.
Also: of course Max throws the best parties. If you haven't known that for years, we question your motives.
Please comment or e-mail with thoughts and concerns.
You all know what tomorrow is:
God I love it when Pens bus issues make headlines. Someone get them Miss Frizzle and that magical bus. Engine troubles for the 198,773th time, but they made it to the rink. Apparently the boys were discussing taxis, but we totally know that KTang had this plan going through his mind:
Aaaaand yes, Clark Gable would be played by an especially salty MaxTal.
Triumphant Return of Brooks Orpik:
Dear Brooks and all future Mrs. Brooks,
Please consider this for baby's first Christmas card. Sir, he has your eyes. Google Images, ftw.
Puck drops in Palookaville. The game of 0-0 commences.
15 minutes without a shot, Pens. Killing me. Killing this baby, too.
Dupes gets a penalty. Nothing happens. Orpik gets a penalty. Nothing happens.
The second starts and Adams and Crombeen decide to do the man dance. Sad fight. Craig, this is how it's supposed to look:
Your fight? Look how you made Benicio feel.
Me too, Benicio. Me too.
Brent Johnson is a wizard. McClement and Oshie are out of their minds. Letestu is out there stealing pucks left and right.
Tangradi gets us our first PP aaaaaand nothing.
At this point I am staring at the screen with my Kristen Stewart face on. You know, the blank one. I don't know why I had to clarify that. Sid gets into a fender bender, which sends Roman Polak to the dressing room. The second ends.
My mad search for caffeine begins:
Guesses on what happens in the third?
Ok, maybe an exaggeration. Letestu is called for hooking, Johnson becomes a ninja wizard, and Halak starts doing the worm to block Rupp's shot which totally works, goddamnit.
TJ gets bitchy and high-sticks Brooks. On the PP: nothing. Suddenly Sid is fucking everywhere and for 2 minutes things happen! Wooooooo! Sid puts 3 shots on goal, Comrie floats in and things start to look up.
Then we're back to nothing.
OT: Johnson v. Johnson. One must win.
Bad Johnson takes it all. BTW, "Erik" is a stupid way to spell your name, dick.
ALTERNATE THREE STARS:
3. Babies that may be related to Brooks:
2. The wall that I slammed my head into after the first:
1. The bus that obviously knew what was coming and quit before it started:
We're debuting a fancy new poll on the right. Feel free to shower us with validation.
I hope you weren't scared of the monster with the fighting bears that Kim allowed to post on the blog yesterday.
But admittedly, he saved us when our lives fell apart, so I'm not going to complain. It was a good post. Let's all give big hugs and applause to Kim for making sure everything was okay while I may or may not have been strapped to a log about to go through a massive table saw, or something.
I'm tired and my metaphors are bad today, so let's get down to business.
Crash My Net Friday is back, albeit a day late, for your viewing pleasure. We have some new subheads for this mess. And hope that you do so enjoy.
Our first choice is albeit an obvious one, considering how often we have discussed that we want him to sweep us off our feet and take us far, far away, to the lands where winners are born.
We present, then, ladies and gentlemen:
MARK LETESTU CAN CRASH MY NET
I mean. . .why the hell not?
4 goals, 3 assists, and +4 in 8 games really isn't bad, especially for somebody who has no guaranteed spot in the NHL this year, is the sensitive age that is 25, and happens to be from the prairie wasteland that some glorify as Alberta.
He is doing so well in life. And would be such a good date. Clearly the times are a'changin'. He is also Aquarius.
Ladies, get in line.
Not that most hockey players don't have a genuine smile that warms our hearts like fresh-baked cupcakes, but Mark Letestu looks seriously genuine. He has probably never asked for ponies for his birthday. Just goals.
Every man wears happiness and confidence well. These are just facts of life.
If you want to get laid, act like Mark Letestu. You will.
LAST SURGE OF DESIRE
Center point on the PP? Okay. In your face.
We had five of Mark Letestu's children between us before they started the clock again for the next faceoff.
And then we wanted to go at it again.
THE WHOLESOMENESS PART OF IT
Did you know that:
Mark Letestu likes to wrap Christmas presents?
That this interview could have been much more awkward if Mark Letestu hadn't been so kind to the awkward child?
And that he has Tons Of Friends?
We wish we had Tons Of Friends.
WHAT HAPPENS THE MORNING AFTER
"You didn't have to make me waffles. That's sweet. I'm going to eat them anyway, though. Is there coffee? Heyyyyyyy"
In our mind, Mark Letestu is a nice person, who also knows that he is a Badass Motherfucker and doesn't have to thank you for your waffles. Frankly, he expected them, but would never let this on.
CONVERSELY, WHO IS NOT EVEN ALLOWED NEAR OUR NETS
Surprisingly, the Blues roster is replete with people who we think would make brilliant net-front presences in our lives.
But we've settled on BJ Crombeen, just because if the romance was taken far enough and he proposed marriage, we would have to decline, on the possibility that we might ever be referred to as Mrs. Crombeen.
Anyway, it doesn't matter how hard we are finding it to hate the Blues.
Jaroslav Halak will be in net. And we have business with Jaro.
Oh look you got dicked in the mouth by Hornqvist, too?
Too fucking bad.
Cry baby cry.
We're coming for you, ScottTrade Center!
(God that hardly sounds epic enough. . .)
Anyway, put the coffee on, and hunker down for some good old Missouri hockey. . .or something.
Their coach is also named Davis Payne which sounds like a minor character from a Die Hard sequel.
Today the Penguins are going to another one of our favorite cities, Nashville.
We have taken this occasion to update our hair league spreadsheet, but the leaderboard has yet to change in any meaningful way, so we're too lazy to update the page at present, but it's coming. Ben Lovejoy earned some points. It's all good.
We realized that we don't know shit about the Preds other than the fact that we love them, in some vague way, so this will be a new experience for us all.
We did some brief research to figure out when the last time was that we cared about the Preds, and it was February 14th of this year, which coincidentally was the middle of the Coldest Winter and we were probably dying alive. Coincidentally, the recap for this game is steeped in Americana. It was a Sunday, on Valentine's day, before the Olympics. The Preds won in SO. Last season was one of those seasons where you don't remember shit, but one thing we DEFINITELY remember is that it's been a long time since the Penguins beat the Predators.
Actually it was on February 6, 2007. Even then, half of the people clogging up the concourses and booing the Pens power play at CEC probably thought hockey was for pussies and that the Stillers were Pittsburgh.
We don't actually know.
The important thing is that it's fall in Nashville, the air will be crisp, and the
Nashville Arena Gaylord Entertainment Center Sommet Center Bridgestone Arena will be rocking with some asses in those $14 seats.
They just lost 0-1 to Calgary. Which should have them pretty pissed off. Like so:
Again, we have misplaced sympathies for teams that we need to crush. Except really, every time the Pens lost to the Preds, it was just some slightly violent, slightly sad failure on the part of our boys. Like trying to shit in a bucket and missing.
bucket in question.
Anyway, here's the latest on our end:
- Tomorrow we will be doing something earth-shattering. Not even kidding.
- We will be adopting MouthGuard's suggestion for having a family-feud style occasional feature in which Certain People will try to answer Certain Questions about Certain Things and see how well their answers match up with the PH Survey, which may or may not actually be conducted.
- We're trying to get people to send us reaction tapes to the Sidney Crosby bread commercial, just like 2 girls 1 cup. If you haven't seen it yet, turn on your webcam, load the video, and send us the file of your genuine reaction.
is where it's at
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.
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.
Sorry about the jobber recap but we're still trying to get the jizz out of our eyes.
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. . .
There have been some slight shakeups in the framework of the Hair League. So far the leading team belongs to those three lucky compatriots who have selected Max Talbot, Evgeni Malkin, and Pascal Dupuis. This is the leaderboard for the top three ranks:
1. Tied for first with 76 points: Strudels & Doodles, Alyssa T's Team, Anna H's Team.
2. Jon W's Team with 73 points
3. utterfrivolity with 72 points
The following table shows our hair points given to each player:
Clicking on that will open the large version in a new window/tab. Recommended if you can't read it.
Now, we've so far logged 59 hair instances. The table is huge; no idea how to keep you up-to-date with them unless you don't mind us pasting raw unformatted text from a spreadsheet into a post. You can click the "read more" if that appeals to you. Ready?