Hello, friends.

I am pretty sure that we have the best readers in all of blog-land, because they make us fabulous Blingees that we then post for your amusement and edification.

Witness:

Courtesy of Carski, the masterpiece "KTang and the Flow in Your Mouth"

Also, the inspiration for the title of this post:

From rexy278, witness the excellence of "CEC Exorcism"

EDITED TO ADD THIS SEXY PENGUIN:

Thanks to Raisa, who just sent this one over the Interwebs

We are all about the Blingees, my friends.

Ignore work today (you weren't getting anything done anyway) and spend your afternoon crafting something sparkly. Then send it to us. I'll add all of them to this post.

Is it 7:30 yet?

Go Pens.

And as the national media slobbered all over themselves about how the Pens were "the team to beat" we knew it wasn't true. It's never true. Over the years in hockey, all of the injustices basically even out so that everyone gets exactly what they deserve. We fully believe the Penguins are still atoning hardcore for the storybook season of 2009. Every season after you are first imbued with the magic gets harder and harder. You can't recapture that wide-eyed terror and thirst for redemption just for funsies.
And so we realize that the good feelings we had leading up to this game were just signs that our imaginations were running wild on us. The playoffs are fucking disgusting vicious and we, as fans, are playing with borrowed time and crystalline-fragile emotions by even paying attention. . .but of course we don't know how to stop. We just have to stay out of that fucking delusion-snowglobe.


If you want to believe, we're going to have to get out of this rut.  It's worse because we saw it coming; it's worse because we played like shit; it's worse because we could see this scenario playing out in our heads a million times starting about three weeks ago.
Terror seed has been planted.  It's a tricky plant to dig up, too.  Its roots go deep.


Apropos tweet of the night, in other words.

And nary a Tyra .gif to comfort us.

Quick hits:



The first period was like losing your virginity and having it not hurt.
That should have been the first clue that life was not real.

We did our best the rest of the game though to look like we didn't even have any other moves.  Turnovers and poor defensive responsibility basically wrote the script for the end of this.  Just couldn't stop the bullshit from coming.
 

It's just so hard to contemplate.  It was like spending 40 mintues in a deep freeze.
It can't be denied that Bryzgalov got his shit together between the first and second.  There were no more mistakes made.

We're beginning to think--seriously consider--that the Consol Energy Center is totally, utterly cursed.  It was fun to say for the first season, you know, as kind of a funny joke or a scapegoat.
But we just don't have a good feeling about it.
With the corpse of Lady Mellon finally eviscerated we fail to see why the hockey gods would be giving us any respite.
We feel. Like. The mother fucking Washington Capitals right now.
All the bells and whistles and nothing to show for it.

We propose a focus group initiative to figure out how to exorcise the demons from the Consol Energy Center.
First idea?  Has anyone tried leaving a gift bottle of scotch on its doorstep?
Has anyone tried doing a Blingee Mural all over the wall along Fifth Avenue?
What are the odds you can get a paper bag full of rainbow glitter into the arena Friday night and release it from the balcony onto center ice?
We're not suggesting that you do anything that could be considered threatening.
But something has to change.
The spirit of this team seems like it isn't fully Given to the game.
God help us.

Also by the way this picture is real and is courtesy of Getty.

Has anyone considered getting this girl's grandma to a game, too?
Anything.  Something.

We hope the Penguins are thoughtfully passing around a bottle of Balvenie and having life-changing conversations, because god forbid we let this moment of reflection get away from us.

Part of us remembers that time when we asked Jakub Voracek to sign for us outside of Nationwide Arena from his tiny BMW or whatever the fuck it was and he didn't know what to do with the Sharpie or what the ticket even was or where he ought to sign it.  He was very confused.  We like to think that Jakub is grown now and that he can sort of speak words in English and he has an adoring fanbase who will laud him for this OT goal and believe in his abilities.

Then we realize he is the fucking enemy and that Kladno must burn.

Don't blame the Pens for hating the media after this mess.  The media is what makes shit like this bad.






Ooooh does it burn.  It better burn.

Dig deep, here we go.
Go Pens. 

We've been here before, you know.
There is going to be an absolute cacophony of voices in our heads and in our faces over the next week-plus, yelling and screaming and whining and kicking down the borders of consciousness.
NBC Sports will turn the contrast up on those oranges and blacks and whites and golds, and get rolling into a festival of rhetoric.
In a way, we almost like the underdog mentality that comes with being a hockey fan. Hockey fans know their teams like the backs of their hands, and every little game moment is like having a beer with your favorite player. But the national media never seems to "get it"--it takes approximately 5 seconds of close listening to realize that everything being discussed on a national hockey broadcast is largely made up and you're mentally being pressed against a wall with a hand on your throat, being asked, BUT DON'T YOU THINK THAT THAT WAS A VETERAN MOVE BY KIMMO TIMONEN? WAS THAT AN UNBELIEVABLE MOVE BY MALKIN OR WHAT? HUH?

All immaterial. We know what to expect. Malkin is unbelievable of course, but we're the ones who have been watching him all year. We'll tell you what's unbelievable.
Not going to speak for Flyers fans, but they probably also know what Kimmo Timonen's "veteran moves" are, if they stopped chanting words that don't make sense long enough to watch the game.

The adage of "nothing worth winning ever came easy" holds true, but we're headed into something a little more intense than mere baptism by fire. It's going to be a media circus, an emotional overload, a staring contest, a lynch mob.

It's like having to defend our honor with a fistfight in the middle of a very public parking lot.
There are some things you just don't say and NBC sports is probably going to say them. What eludes most mainstream fans and most national media is the fact that the game is being played on the mother fucking ice surface.
Not in your head, or on TV.
May the best team win and not have too many black eyes or shrapnel scars by the end of this mess, and god help any poor soul who isn't ready to fling some fresh bile into the shitstorm and deal with this passionately.

STAFF PREDICTIONS

KIMBERLY:
Realistically: Pens in 5.
In the land of our souls:
I honestly think it will be pretty hilarious. But not the fun kind of hilarious - the really awkward kind, like when you laugh about a 5 year old child saying she wants to die because she lost her zip-lock bag of marshmallows. It's kind of adorable and hilarious, but it's a little awkward how much she MEANS it. The Flyers are embarrassingly hilarious in their earnestness and desire to beat us. So, with that in mind, I believe that game one will be pretty reserved on the parts of both teams, as far as fighting and tomfoolery go. Everyone will still be pretending that the playoffs are somehow related to European hockey. That is, until the last ten minutes, when roughly one third of all players on both teams will obtain some sort of eye/face injury, leaving me to swoon endlessly for the rest of the series. The second game we will all forget due to liquor consumption, but we will read reports from our outgoing text messages that look like "ZZoe.. zoe. can youcount the happenings in the net JAMES neals done" and assume it means something good. I predict that Evgeni Malkin will marry Hartnell's mom shortly before the first period of game three, causing the game to degrade into fistfights almost immediately. Even if Malkin doesn't marry any moms, I feel the third game being a bit of a gloves-off free-for-all. Sidney Crosby will score a record breaking amount of goals in game four. I predict that the series will last for 3.5 games, however, because the Flyers will renounce themselves as a franchise after Sid's 26th goal. We will move happily on.

ZOË:
Pens in 6.
MAF will eventually find his castle on the hill, away from the bears that plague Ilya Bryzgalov.
References to midcentury French literature and cinema will literally become impossible.
 People on TV will sound like assholes and pronounce Claude Giroux's name like "claw" as in "bearclawwww."
If we were in Pennsylvania in our not-so-distant slightly-more-youths, we'd be driving up for every single game at the big screen, being poor, and exclusively eating Sheetz.
But this is the time to be more sophisticated than all that.
THIS IS NOT OUR FIRST RODEO.

MARY
"pens in 6; the flyers have inferior goaltending (bryz is scared of bears) and only one good line"
truer words have never been spoken. 

More information as it becomes available, and fuck Philly,
Go Pens. 

Hello, friends.

And so we came to the end.

Not the end of hockey (thank Curry) but the end of the regular season.

We are fortunate enough to be able to wake up tomorrow and wait on tenterhooks for the playoff schedule to see when next we'll need to stock up on cheap beer and expensive whiskey. Or when next I'll need to strongarm the husband into cooking dinner for me while I enjoy the best time of the year.

About all I am hoping for from today's game is that no one gets injured and that the Flyers minimize the nonsense. 

We can always hope.

PREGAME SHENANIGANS

Please shut up, Mike Milbury. I hope something very unpleasant happens to you.

Our Prettiest Princess is out of the lineup today. Also Steve Sullivan, The Littlest Hockey Player.

MOMENT OF JOEY V IN YOUR FACE

Right off a faceoff, Zolnierczyk and Joey V get into a brawl.
(Note: since this game is not being shown on ROOT Sports, I actually got to see the faceoff.)

I don't always fight, but when I do, I destroy my opponents' will to live

MOMENT WHEN ZOE AND I SIMUL-TYPED 'I LOVE HIM' REGARDING PASCAL DUPUIS

Happy birthday, birthday boy. I hope your string of excellence continues

INTERLUDE: AN OBSERVATION

They show a shot of Jagr on the bench and talk about how this is one of his longest scoring droughts ever.

I know that people who grew up in Pittsburgh (like the TKhusband) felt betrayed by Jagr playing for the Flyers this year.
I don't have that same experience, as I grew up in Colorado watching Patrick Roy stand on his head most of the time (and sometimes refuse to play well entirely).
All the pictures I see of Jagr in Penguins colors are of him fresh-faced and about eighteen or nineteen. His mullet is gloriously fluffy and he looks ready to take on the whole world.

But now Jagr is old. And in the shot they showed, he looked particularly unshaven and haggard.

He reminds me of nothing so much as a drunk uncle at a family reunion who hugs you for just long enough to make it creepy.

What we imagine to be Jagr's constant companion these days

FIVE MOMENTS OF MAJOR PENALTIES

Zach Rinaldo boards the hell out of Michalek and earns a five-minute major and a game misconduct. So this is how it's going to be.

However, the Pens fail to score on the five-minute power play. As our esteemed friend @GotKasparaitis said, "The Pens are at an all-you-can-eat buffet, but all they're having is water."

Unfortunately, the Pens seem to have let the Flyers slightly more back into the game, after failing to score on the power play and then taking a penalty of their own.

And then this happened.

Balls.

MOMENT IN WHICH BOBROVSKY WISHES LIFE HAD DO-OVERS

Bobrovsky thinks he makes the save on Kunitz, but he does not.

MOMENT OF GAMESMANSHIP

Beej is now in net. Which doesn't keep Jagr from scoring.

Go back to your bottle of Early Times

MOMENT OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY

The NBC announcer just called Johnson Fleury.

Makes you miss Steiggy and Errey a little, doesn't it?

Amid the shenanigans, Jagr gets called for hooking. The Pens power play proves that it's not the ridiculous farce that it has been in the past, as Crosby scores on the backhand.

LOVE. IT.

MOMENT OF INCOHERENT SCREAMING

And that's all you need to know.

THE ENTIRE THIRD PERIOD

This picture sums up this season nicely. Or at least, what we had hoped this season would be. And what we hope future seasons will be.

ALT THREE STARS

1) Malkin, for 50 goals, cookies, and Russian perfection

2) JoeyV, for kicking ass and always having heart

3) All of us, for a great season and for playoff excellence

Thanks for being here. Thanks for everything. Thanks for what's to come.

Go Pens.

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.