Hair League has been updated.
I mean I know that's the only reason you visit this blog. It can't be for the insightful hockey commentary. Or even the dick jokes.
or pictures of dicks in costumes.
Though those are all good reasons.
Today we want to bring you answers to your questions, which might be as follows:
- Why is the Pens power play so bad?
- Where is the universal drive and energy in our core players?
- What might the morale situation be for Mike Comrie at this point?
- What is the state of hockey journalism today? (Hint: bad)
First order of business is absolutely this. On Monday, Seth Rorabaugh will be meeting with the Big Deals at the Post-Gazette about the future of Empty Netters. He is, according to his Twitter (@emptynetters), not optimistic.
Here is his appeal and information about how to write his bosses about how you feel about EN.
Please be respectful and remind them how amazing Seth's skillz are. He reports the hell out of everything he posts. There isn't any other hockey blog we can think of that is so consistently full of interesting information. Save Empty Netters. He doesn't 'shop dicks into things and call it content, but I mean, there's us for that.
Now, onto the Pens.
We have no answers for you, other than that. . .yeah.
Maybe sexual frustration.
We think that if we don't see a glimmer of effort in Anaheim and Phoenix, it might be time to start calling some people out. Though with all possible honesty and love. This isn't meant to be reactionary. This is meant to be an intervention.
via our friend crmzak we have discovered that Hillary Duff cheers on Big Time Rush more often than she cheers on her husband:
If we weren't so wiped out from life we'd publish a deconstructive analysis of Big Time Rush and their clear and present danger to hockey culture.
OH BY THE WAY IT'S FRIDAY
This man up here had a baby daughter this week as I'm sure you've heard. Her name is Lola. He is still expected to play tonight, according to Coachy.
We would say "Pascal Dupuis can crash my net" but we have respect at the moment for the Lola Situation.
Possible facial expression upon birth.
Seriously though. Lola.
Lots of assholes on the team, but also Jonas and Teemu.
No idea how to feel, other than the Pens have to win, or score a power play goal, or something.
Power play goal would be a nice start.
Hair League has been updated.
For Dallas, the situation seemed dire. Their record wasn't quite what they wanted it to be. So they decided. . .we are going to play well tonight. Vicious. Persistent. We aren't going to make those assholes feel like they can win this game, because they can't, because we're the Dallas fucking Stars and now that we've gotten rid of those alcoholics Modano and Marty T we have a chance to make something of this pathetic franchise. It's only November. Remember before the lockout, when we had Brett Hull and were relevant? LET'S GET THOSE DAYS BACK, IF ONLY FOR SIXTY MINUTES.
Meanwhile, the Pens were probably smoking weed. Or something. Or crying to their moms on the phone that they'd packed the wrong socks and having OCD freakouts.
It was like making your television entrance with nothing at your disposal but a Blingee'd stormtrooper helmet.
The real story of this game was the insane amount of hair points.
But there will be a post about that tomorrow.
No awards show until the Pens score a power play goal or until Mike Comrie gets credited with a goal. Whichever comes first. GENTLEMEN, IF YOU PLEASE.
Tyler Kennedy was the most consistent player in this game and occasionally had presence of mind to do things.
Sid fought a Finnish person.
Never thought you'd see the day? Us neither.
Mike Comrie is on notice for existing without our permission and being paid $500,000 to do so. Punching that puck into the net. And the fact that he had the balls to do the Potash interview after the second period. It was like they sent a lamb to slaughter so they could talk about it behind its back.
A retarded lamb.
Cruelty. Animal sacrifice. Botched goals. Penalty shots. Where will it end?
Answer: it won't until we slay the monsters.
Are they in Anaheim? Perhaps.
This season has already taken years off of our lives.
Is Loui Eriksson on your fantasy team? How about Robidas or Lehtonen? There's always an upside to everything.
. . .Maybe.
The Hair League page has received its cursory updates. The world is a better place now. Leaderboard is as follows for the top 3 points totals:
1. Tied for first with 170 points: Strudels & Doodles, Alyssa T's Team, Anna H's Team.
2. Boyssszz on Ice Yay! with 143 points
3. Frenchiesknowbest and Cookiesworld are tied for third with 140 points.
To calculate your own points total, go to the points/updates page for the screenshot of the player totals.
If you forget who is on your team, e-mail us. Be sure to include your name.
- the highest-scoring team created by a man is Stache and Patch.
- the highest-scoring players are Pascal Dupuis (72), Maxime Talbot (52), and Brent Johnson (47).
- the highest-scoring team to not have Pascal Dupuis is ranked 21st (John W's Team)
- the lowest-scoring team consists of Kris Letang, Tyler Kennedy, and Marc-André Fleury.
Okay. Now moving on to the "what the fuck" portion of today's post:
You may have heard on the most recent Pensblog podcast that Rob Rossi has some insane article about himself in the Trib. He basically wrote an article about his own face. Like, seriously? Rob Rossi, nobody in Pittsburgh wants to read about your face.
So, we checked Rob Rossi's biography over at his Chipped Ice blog. Did you know that he managed to make both the "about this blog" and biographical sections about himself? Check it out. (ALSO, LADIES: HE'S SINGLE.)
Now, we come to the real meat of this exposé.
Here is Rossi's article about Jordan Staal's freak hand injury sustained in practice, that will keep him out for as many as six weeks. (Interlude: OMG UNCLE JORDY WE MISS YOU PLEASE COME HOME LOVE ZOË KIM AND ANN KTHX) Suffice it to say, this is more an editorial piece than straight newspaper journalism, but okay. We're getting less strict with our form nowadays in the professional writing world, and this is wonderful. This is grand. However:
Told that center Jordan Staal would play Wednesday night at Dallas, the players tapped their stick blades on the ice at Southpointe Iceoplex.
About 25 minutes later, at precisely 11:44 a.m., a frustrated Staal skated from the surface favoring his right hand — the gloved version of which a puck had caught during an otherwise innocent-looking drill.
"The gloved version of which a puck had caught"??????????????????????????????????????????
Does this sentence make it into the final draft of any article? If you're fifteen years old writing for the school newspaper about girls' field hockey? Maybe?
Has the editing staff of the Tribune-Review given up on controlling Rossi's urges?
Perhaps he has eaten them.
Shero said nobody in the NHL community "will care" about his beleaguered-by-injuries squad.
We "will care," Rob Rossi. We "promise."
I mean, why else would he have let himself get beat by Pascal Dupuis and Max Talbot?
Possibly scientific evidence of mustache power. Or the fact that Pascal and Max can accomplish things in their lifetimes.
Brent with the shutout.
Gotta start him in Dallas.
What was up with the blue uniforms in Carolina, btw? Joke. Utter joke.
We'll see Fleury eventually. He's getting a little help at the moment:
Watch out for Pepper around you this Halloween weekend.
The recap situation for tonight's game at Carolina is unknown, but Zoë or Ann will be joining you at some point about something.
There are still plenty of penises in the previous post to keep you occupied.
Zoë was on the Pensblog Podcast this morning, so you can check that out.
So, the Canes.
Are we going to see Justin Peters? Will he play like a Vezina winner on acid? WHO KNOWS. Will Eric Staal see Godzilla? Will Skinner take over the world?
Beej for the Pens probably.
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.