Happy holidays, scrappy readers!

I didn't have a chance to wrap this, although you probably wouldn't notice the difference; my "gift wrapping" abilities are limited to the following items: gift bags, ribbons, confetti, and large bows. Anything more elaborate, including, but not limited to, tissue paper origami and the conservatism of traditional wrapping paper, is way, way out of my league; my gift-wrapped presents look like someone has already unwrapped and rewrapped said presents using the original paper. Not pretty.

We're getting into the holiday mood over here at The Scrappy Octopus. For instance, just the other night, during the second intermission during the game about which we are no longer speaking, I found it extremely cathartic to use my aggression in a productive way, such as DESTROYING dozens of candy canes with a rolling pin and a hammer to make peppermint bark. And the end result was so yummy, you'd think watching Evil defeat Good would be something we could get behind every day. [Insert eye roll/gag reflex/renal failure here.]

Anyway, because Christmas is nigh and especially because I've been holding out on a little bit of magic I have in my possession, I present my Christmas gift to you, my very fabulous and scrappy readers. Thanks for reading and seemingly enjoying the inanity we specialize in over here. You guys are the best. Here's to wonderful holidays for you and yours. (Programming note: Posting may be spotty over here through the new year due to required holiday bullshit; then again, we may blow off the whole family crap and take to ranting on here in lieu of creating cherished memories with our loved ones. You never know what to expect with us. Wild card, bitches.)

Now, without further adieu, I give you the following unequivocal, unparalleled, and unadulterated evidence that Red Wings fans party harder, better, and more awesome(r) than anyone else in the history of the universe:



(I have contributed nothing to the above present other than the obviously stellar drunken camerawork and poorly-stifled giggling. It's all my partner-in-crime, Ballin' B.)

Three steps to recovery.

1. Let it out. Own it.
2. Forget it ever happened.
3. Double shots all around.

Because tomorrow's my birthday and tonight went down in a shitty manner, I'd prefer to live in a universe of my own design and delusion.

The team that took the ice tonight for the Hawks is better than the team that we dressed and put on the ice. Period. It fucking kills my soul to write that, but there's no other way of putting it. When you're missing [fill in the number you think relevant] of your top players, and you're facing a team as good as Chicago is this season, what can you really expect?

That being said, a few things that fucking piss me off, no matter how much the logical side of my brain can rationalize why we lost (in other words, this is my "owning it"):

1. Did we REALLY have to lay a goose egg tonight? I mean, really. Fucking KILLS me to get shut out at the United Center.

2. Speaking of the United Center, I hope anyone who chanted "Detroit sucks" during the last ten seconds of play chokes on his/her own bile. I mean, really: You shut us out today. Do we need to have an arithmetic refresher prior to the puck drop so you understand how to decipher the score? This behavior reminds me of the stereotypical high school bully--you know, the guy who races his Camaro through town, revving his engine at gimpy kids, and in school, spends his time stuffing geeks in their lockers after they refuse to let him cheat off their history tests--come to find out, after many years of therapy, the bully admits he was just ashamed of his inability to achieve anything more impressive than half-mast, even after enjoying extended "heavy petting" with the hot cheerleader he told everyone he was nailing. Go to hell.

3. Pavel Datsyuk should have gotten his money's worth out of Kris Versteeg, unequivocally the douchiest person I have ever had the sheer misfortune of laying eyes on.

4. I've always wanted to know what aborting myself mixed with liposuction gone wrong mixed with nuclear holocaust sounds like. Having heard that goal celebration bullshit they play in Chicago three times in a scoreless effort by the Wings, I can cross that one off my to-do list.

Feel free to let it out in the comments below in order to start your personal path to recovery. That's all from me on this one. Never discussing it again.

Wings @ Blackhawks tonight.

Yeah, yeah: We totally took a pass at writing any sort of game preview of the Dallas Stars game. It's just that...we got nearly two feet of snow, and playing in that is infinitely more exciting than writing about the Dallas Stars, whom I consider one of the most yawn-inducing teams in the Conference. I guess that's why they have ice girls, for Christ's sake.

Anyway, if you want a recap for yesterday's game, here it is: Pavel Datsyuk wiped up both ends of the ice with the faces of every single person on the Stars' roster. Tomas Holmstrom scored a magnificent goal. The Homer/Datsyuk/Bertuzzi line played a solid game yesterday. Brad May actually kicked someone's ass. Time stood still. Jimmy let in a couple of softies. Doug Janik looks like the kind of guy who if you let go on a Friday, you'd want to notify security the preceding Monday that this guy means trouble. Toby FlendersonVille Leino had a decent chance...at some point in the game, but you know how much we care about Leino's decent chances over here (if "ifs" and "buts" were candy and nuts, we'd all have a merry Christmas). Wings played a decent first period, an absolutely electric second period, and came out flat for the third period. Hey, at least nobody got injured yesterday. Lose to Dallas, 4-3.

***

Wings visit the Windy City tonight for the first time this season. We're also going to see Marian Hossa face the team for the first time since he jumped on board the Chicago bandwagon. I'm ready to see Brad Stuart make wallpaper out of him; he did a pretty good job of doing that to Kopecky back in October, but I hear Kopecky is still standing, so if Stuart could go ahead and finish that job, it would be fanfuckingtastic.

Should be an interesting game. Chicago is on fire right now. I'm tempted to make the requisite "Oh, if we drop this one, it's only because we're playing back-to-back road games or because we're so injury-ridden, blah, blah, blah", but instead, I'm going to quote rule #76: No excuses. Play like a champion.

I've sent a little memo to the Wings. It's not a big deal or anything, but I thought I'd stick it on here and maybe pump up the morale for tonight's game. Here goes:

Dear Red Wings,

Hey, it's your favorite Scrappy Octopus here. Just wanted to send you a little note of encouragement to say good luck tonight against the Blackhawks. I don't have to tell you how symbolically important your meetings against the Hawks are to your fanbase.

I did want to point out that in addition to it being five days before Christmas, it's also the day before my birthday. And since you're not sending me Aaron Downey in a box (unless it's going to be a late delivery, right on my birthday, and not to be bratty, but I did specifically request an entire week with him, not just one day), you really owe it to me to go ahead and win tonight. If tonight goes poorly, it will ruin my birthday and my chances of living a productive year. Also, I will promptly light myself on fire. So there, you all have all of that on your consciences.

Much love to you all! Stay positive.

XO, Me

Let's. Go. Wings.

Power outage: Wings beat Lightning, 3-0.

It's one of those times when I'm not sure how to begin. If you only saw the score, you'd think we'd be thrilled. Further, a couple of milestones were reached tonight: Jimmy Howard earned his first NHL shutout, and Mike Babcock earned his 300th career win.

But when Henrik Zetterberg went down on the ice during the first period, I knew that no matter what the outcome of the game would be, it might not necessarily matter in light of this shitty occurrence. Now we play the game we know so well, the waiting game, until we know for sure how serious the issue is and how long it will take until he returns. Sigh.

A few quick thoughts:

1. Because of the situation with Zetterberg, I didn't really feel like writing this post, but our team's performance tonight warranted recognition of their effort.

2. The three Wings' goals scored tonight were the three most beautiful plays we've seen from the team this season, especially the first goal by Drew Miller, who scored first against the team who let him go so recently. Revenge is sweet, and scoring a goal that fantastic is even sweeter. Todd Bertuzzi scored next on a magnificent pass from my boy Tomas Holmstrom, and Patrick Eaves scored the final goal of the game during a 4-on-4 situation after coming straight from the bench into play.

3. Ville Leino(!) had some great moments tonight, particularly in the first several minutes of the game. Alas, nothing came of it, so I don't particularly care. Score a goal or two, and we'll talk. (Yeah, yeah--I saw his fancy spinaround on the ice during the third period. It was gorgeous. Maybe he'd honor Finland with a gold in men's singles. I wonder how he feels about triple axels.)

4. Watching the three goals scored tonight, especially Miller's, was bittersweet because it made me think how spoiled we are as Wings fans; we used to see these kinds of plays so much more often.

5. Mattias Ohlund is dead to me. Yeah, I know it was a clean hit. Don't particularly care about that, either.

6. The penalty kill looked stellar tonight, once again. I mentioned this in my recap of the Coyotes' game, but it's worth a mention once again: Considering the shitty circumstances, it's easy to forget how much our penalty kill has improved over the end of last year's playoffs through the beginning of this season. This is something to feel good about, especially in light of all the problems we've faced this season.

7. Brian Rafalski's pass to Drew Miller, resulting in an assist on Miller's goal, was a thing of beauty. This kind of 100-foot pass is more of Lidstrom's or Osgood's thing, but Rafalski did it with ease.

8. Per Brian: It's a testament to our coach's ability how well we've been able to hold it together--especially tonight with our future captain and leading playmaker being taken out of the game while we only had a one-goal lead. In addition, I think the fact that the team has managed to stay afloat also says a lot about something we've known all along, but hasn't gotten tested nearly as much as it has this year, which is that the locker room vibe and chemistry our team has with one another has to be very, very strong and optimistic.

***

Update per FSD postgame: Mike Babcock says Zetterberg's injury is to his left shoulder, and he'll be getting an MRI tomorrow. Don't think we're going to top that tonight.

Lightning @ Wings tonight.

I know I referenced this in my post the other day, but I'm a huge fan of recycling my own lame jokes in an attempt to get people to validate my existence with their attention. Gear down...

Tonight, we're playing Gonads andthe Lightning:



You're welcome, Brian.

I'm not even going to pretend--I don't give a flying fuck about this team. At all. To put it into perspective:

Things I Care the Least About in My Life
1. Fidelity issues of famous athletes

2. Corona (seriously, who DRINKS that stuff?!)

3. Anything Joe Lieberman has to say

4. Any reality show that involves dancing

5. My bad reputation

6. Taking down Christmas decorations in my workspace any time before March

7. Aliens (sorry, Brian)

8. Being able to understand tip jars while sober

9. Tampa Bay Lightning

10. Any and all programming on Headline News

So there you have it, Tampa Bay G&L. You rank right between my inability to comprehend the fine art of a really kickass drunken activity and the trainwreck that is Nancy Grace. You should feel pretty pumped about that.

Thoughts I Will Inevitably Have During the Game
1. The name "Antero Nittymaki" will make me think of sushi, and I will want some, stat. I kinda want some now, and it's 10:00 in the morning. Sigh. It's going to be a loooong day.

2. The name "Martin St. Louis" will make me wonder what I always do when I see a last name involving "St.", which is, "Does he count the 'S' in 'St.', the 'L' in 'Louis', or both letters in his initials?" I wonder what it's like to have more than three initials. One of my suitemates in my first year of college was a girl who--no joke--had three middle names and a hyphenated last name, one of which involved a "D" and an apostrophe and then the rest of the name, like "D'Angelo". So, in actuality, this girl's initials were E.C.R.E.D.A.D. Insanity.

3. Why doesn't Vincent Lecavalier play for a better team?

4. Alex Tanguay does not, does not, does not equal Alex Tangueray.

5. Mattias Ohlund has one of my current favorite names in hockey, but only because of that bombass umlaut over the "O".

6. I'm really happy we took Drew Miller off their hands.

Let's. Go. Wings.

***

Before we get to the item that's really the heart and soul of all TSO game previews, I want to give you all a reminder that if we can convince a certain someone to release a certain video that a certain me has in her possession, then we could be watching a video of someone near and dear to our hearts. Just saying.

Enjoy:

TSO Keeps It Real

All right, boys and girls: We've been in each other's lives for the better part of three months now. To celebrate our quarter-year anniversary together, I think we should make a vow to be truthful with one another always, to refrain from lying outright or even tepidly misrepresenting the truth by refusing to own up to difficult realities.

To kick off this new phase of our relationship, The Scrappy Octopus is debuting a new segment calling "Keeping It Real". We're scheduling publications of this segment to occur, oh, whenever we feel like it, so stay tuned for further editions.

The topic we'll cover today: Proper attire to sport at a hockey game.

First, we'll pick on the gentlemen. I have a huge problem with the following:

1. Emoloser likes hockey? But...there are no tears at the Joe.



Saw a guy wearing jeans identical to these, only he paired them with an Yzerman jersey. Yep, you read that right: Dude actually had the balls to wear his #19 with his girlfriend's stonewash.

To be fair, I don't understand the guys-in-girls'-jeans phenomenon in the first place. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, maybe I'm just oblivious, but seriously, what is the deal? I hardly find my gender's jeans comfortable; how can those possibly be comfortable on the ol' 'nads? And, perhaps more importantly, if you're a heterosexual girl, why go for a guy who's probably less interested in taking your clothes off your body than he is in adorning his own body with your threads?

Going back to the guy at hand, though: In addition to wearing jeans a bajillion sizes too tight, his jersey itself was a woman's jersey. There was no way it was even a carryover from his childhood; the jersey was cut in a woman's style. Meanwhile, he was walking hand-in-hand and being all kissy-face with his cute female companion. The mind reels.

2. I mean, really?



Actually saw a guy sporting an authentic Wings #81 Hossa jersey before the Anaheim game. Could not believe it. Thought maybe somebody slipped some peyote into my pre-game quesadilla or something.

I really shouldn't have to elaborate on this, but apparently, some people don't get it. It's kind of like being in the military--if you retire or are honorably discharged, you can keep wearing your gear, and nobody will say a word about it. But if you leave dishonorably, you're going to have a hard time justifying your attire to the people who know the deal.

I've been racking my brain since Friday to try to come up with a scenario in which this could be considered acceptable by any stretch of the imagination. The best I could think of is if someone wore it ironically, like if a 'Hawks fan wore it to a Wings v. Hawks game, but even then, no one knows that you're actually a 'Hawks fan, so it's still an epic fail. I kinda half-heartedly hoped upon seeing the jersey at first (because I first noticed the #) that the bastard had put something at least mildly clever as the name (i.e., "Cat Shit", "Roofie Dealer", or even just the standard "Benedict"), but no dice.

3. Coonskin caps are necessary because...?



Saw a guy wearing one of these at the game. For some weird reason, kinda liked it, but still don't get why it's hockey game apparel. But I guess if you're not going to wear it to a hockey game, where WOULD you wear such a thing?

***

We at The Scrappy Octopus are equal-opportunity offenders, so now on to the ladies. (And yes, I am going more in depth with these examples, and no, I'm not being sexist--I'm a chick, and I like us to represent ourselves appropriately in our hockey fandom endeavors.)

1. Could you at least make a little effort to look like you give a shit?



You are not going to your BFF's house for a High School Musical slumber party. Nick Jonas is not anywhere on the ice, nor are we going to be listening to Selena Gomez's new joint at any point during the game.

Ladies, I get it. I like dressing up and wearing awesome clothes as much as the next slightly shallow person; I don't roll out of bed and stay in my sweatpants 24/7...anymore (the doctors convinced me it's not good for my well-being). But for fuck's sake, you're at a hockey game.

In my book, nothing short of a jersey is acceptable attire to wear to the Joe. But I make exceptions for others--jerseys are a pricey investment, and maybe you're just not that big into the team. Try wearing a T-shirt or even snagging your boyfriend's hat. Or sweet Jesus, try wearing the color RED. It's not hard; I have yet to meet a girl who doesn't own a red shirt.

Not participating in a show of team pride in any way furthers the image that female hockey fans aren't on the same playing field as our male counterparts; it propagates the boneheaded notion that we're too bubble-headed to understand fancy terms like "icing" and "power play" without having our oh-so-smart boyfriends and husbands explain it to us. Further, showing up to a game, arm in arm with a male companion who's dressed in his favorite player's gear, while dressing like an extra in the "Party in the U.S.A." video just makes you look foolish. Male fans show up in droves in jerseys, sweatshirts, and so forth; I'd say the percentage of women who dress accordingly versus women who don't is 50%-50%. What causes women to feel as if they can't don team apparel? Are they really that afraid of everyone not being able to stare at their ta-tas for a couple of hours? Get over yourselves.

2. I judge you when you wear leopard print to a hockey game.



Meooooooooooooow! VOMIT .

3. Holy shit, don't drink and paint.



Like the aforesaid men's item #1, this is one of those that apply to everyday life, but stick out like a sore thumb especially at a hockey game. This one goes out to you, person in front of me in the bathroom line who assaulted my senses with her French whorehouse warpaint and perfume. Whenever I see someone like that, I think they either need to be in a 12-step program to get over the problem, or they're flirting with serious disaster:



Not good. Not ever.

I feel pretty good about TSO taking a stand here to correct an important social problem by drawing attention to it, but why, oh, why don't these poor girls' loved ones step in and intervene? There are no innocent bystanders in the cycle of addiction!

***

I know, I know: Women, especially, are under a lot of pressure to be aesthetically pleasing. But I'm really fucking sick of getting the stinkeye from Pussycat Dolls wannabes when I roll up wearing my #13 sweater; it's happened each time I've been to the Joe, not to mention at bars, both here and in Michigan, during games. Yeah, I know the jersey is billowing and not conventionally "cute", but guess what? I feel like the biggest boss in the world when I don it. So kiss my ass, haters. (But try not to leave any clownpaint stains, ok?)

Wings poach Coyotes, 3-2.

Aaaaaaaa-oooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww! (Best. Coyote. Impression. Ever.)

Everybody else has already written kickass recaps, and I'm a little rusty at doing this without a massive hangover or via phone after a game, so I'll give it the old college try here, but I'm going to keep it short and sweet:

What stood out for me about the game? Well, considering Brian and I missed the first period, and we showed up during first intermission to discover the score was 2-1, my initial impression was that I was happy the team had generated some early offense for the summary sheet. It's always better to get it done early rather than scramble to catch up in the third period, which--SIGH--our beloved Wings are so prone to doing these days.

Then, I learned that Kris Newbury scored the first goal, after only approximately five-and-a-half minutes. Thought about it. Considered dubbing it the best news I'd ever heard. Also considered dubbing it the worst. Settled on "best-SLASH-worst news". I think that adequately covers it, and any Wings' fan will concur.

Was very, very happy to see Patrick Eaves's shorthanded goal. This guy shows great promise; I like the way he has worked with his various linemates during this injury-riddled season. He hasn't lost his drive or talent by getting bogged down in a rut, unlike several of our veterans left standing.

Then, we watched the replay of Jonathan Ericsson's knee injury. This, combined with the news of Darren Helm's wrist injury earlier in the day, was too much. I'm not even going to expound upon this. I don't have the heart.

The most positive thing I take away from this game is as follows:

Our penalty kill has been rocking balls out lately. Yesterday, Mickey Redmond mentioned that the PK has been successful 30 of the last 31 times. In fact, the most recent power play goal scored by an opponent was Nashville's first goal of the game on Saturday. If we can remember wayyyyy back to last spring during the playoffs, when we were all scratching our heads and wondering how the PK could possibly be so shitty, this statistic should make us feel pretty damn good.

That's all I got for now. Most half-hearted attempt at a recap ever, I know. Will get back in the swing of things with GONADS-AND-THE-LIGHTNING on Thursday!

Also, for your viewing pleasure, here's a link to our Detroit Adventures photo album on Flickr. I don't claim to be a photographer by any stretch, but we did make a point to take photos of everything ever downtown so I can remember them when I'm senile (which is scheduled to occur in 30 days or so...the state will be paying Brian to take care of me. Er, I won't ruin the surprise. Just wait for it.). Anyway, if you're interested, click here.

I love you, Detroit (Coda).

So, The Scrappy Octopi have returned from our epic trip to Detroit. I was so beyond sad to leave; we had the best vacation in the history of vacations, but there was something awaiting us here that made the return home tolerable:

The brand spankin' new podcast by and for Wings' fans, The Obstructed View. If you haven't had a chance to listen to it yet, check it out now. I woke up this morning at home (had the day off from work), checked my email/Google Reader, saw that the podcast was up, and thought, "Damnit! I can't listen to this now because of the fucking dial-up here." (Don't laugh.) So, I took the shortest shower known to mankind (cannot guarantee the hygiene) and sped down the road at like 900 miles/hour to a coffeeshop where I could download it and enjoy it thoroughly. I almost experienced death by school bus T-boning at one point. (Now you can laugh.) Anyway, the podcast is amazing--funny, intelligent, thought-provoking, filled with so many of those, "Holy shit, I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking [insert fantabulous idea here]." There are some super-entertaining people writing out there in the Wings' universe, guys. Can't wait to listen to this every week.

***

So, now that I'm home, I feel the need to put a cap on the entire experience by writing about the wonderful times we had in the Motor City. So much to write about. Here goes:

Monday, December 7 (The Arrival):

Woke up at the asscrack of dawn to embark on our journey. We decided to rent a car because both of our cars are in that ambivalent sure-it-still-runs-well-but-it-may-implode-at-any-moment phase of their lives. Picked up a Ford Focus at Enterprise--most uncomfortable car ever for an eight-hour drive, and we both drive small cars along the same lines as the Focus. How uncomfortable, you ask? I told Brian I'd have to take a bowel movement upon arriving at our destination in order to prove to myself that I still have a tush.

Not so excited about the drive there...



...but VERY excited about the endpoint:



Upon arriving in Detroit, we visited Meijer to load up on some essentials (read: booze), and we visited Tim Hortons to load up on some additional essentials (read: Timbits). We then went to Pegasus in Greektown to partake of some saganaki (OPA! more about that later), and we tried octopus for the first time. Yep, that's right, The Scrappy Octopus consumed octopus. I had a huge crisis of conscience after that; I mean, how would I explain that to all my seafaring brethren? I finally settled on the rationale that all creatures would resort to cannibalism at some point; if I ever get called out by some angry eight-armed heathen, I guess I'll just have to chalk it up to survival of the fittest.

Tuesday, December 8 (Day Two):

Visited Hockeytown Authentics in Troy. Didn't spend a lot of money, but I did buy my nephew a Wings' Zamboni toy for Christmas. Ate lunch at Qdoba, which I hadn't been to since college--used to be one of my favorite throw-up foods while partying it up, so I was so pleased to revisit it.

Meanwhile, on Twitterverse, I got blamed by some good folks for the Grandy trade and basically everything horrible ever that's ever happened in the history of the universe; apparently, TSO's presence in Motown warranted the horrible happenings. Needless to say, we were crushed by these baseless accusations, but also sort of inappropriately tickled pink that people actually believe that TSO's sphere of influence extends into MLB trades. Christ, people, don't you realize that the only thing I have power over is making Ville Leino score so many points by promising to pelt him with my unmentionables. I mean, didn't you see the Anaheim game? He scored like...one assist. I'd like to think that was because he had a little spring in his step and a lovelight glowing in his heart.

We also trekked to Lansing to check out the Capitol. More importantly, though, I'm looking for someone to shed some light on this:



That's someone who has pitched a tent on Capitol grounds. (And no, not in that way. Christ, we're not talking about Leino anymore, so cool it.) What is the meaning of this tent-pitching? Is this an aficionado/stalker of Governor Granholm's? A reenactment of the Bonus Army? Someone whose GPS broke while looking for a state park? Someone please explain this!

Wednesday, December 9 (GAME DAY, PART ONE)

Woke up packing my A-game. We ended up eating/drinking at Cheli's before the game; we didn't have a chance to check out Cheli's during our last trip to the D, so we wanted to include it this time. Had a great time--especially enjoyed the "Welcome, Kid Rock fans" on the side of the building and kinda hoped he would be there to do some shots with us.

Headed to the game with my wastey-face on. My "recaps" (generous label) can be found here and here, but I did forget a few things:

1. A kid behind us kept trying his damndest to come up with awesome insults against the Blues. It made the game actually enjoyable, despite what was happening on the ice. Some stellar examples: "Well....well...the Blues...are...a...terrible hockey team!" or "Well...the Blues can just go to...back to St. Louis!" For a brief moment, I considered hopping over the back of my seat and trading places with Dad in order to give the kid a few pointers, but I figured he'll get it, eventually. Keep on truckin', kiddo.

2. Have you ever had a moment when you're like, "Ohhh, shit. Did I just enter the Matrix and wind up back in my old self, only five years ago?" Yep, totally happened to me when I entered the bathroom between periods and saw a girl literally holding up another girl in the handicapped stall. At first, I thought maybe they were trying to hook up and just forgot to close the door, and I considered telling them in case they wanted some privacy, but as I left my stall, I got nearly run over by several (male) security guards entering the premises, and then it dawned on me what was going on, and that's when I had that weird sense of deja vu. Keep on truckin', super duper drunk girl who may have permanent brain damage.

Thursday, December 10 (Day Four):

Woke up with a mega hangover, ended up degrading myself by voting in a Barbie poll on Facebook about what color her hair should be (I picked red). Thought about what I had just done, got really depressed about the shambles that is my life, but then cheered up in about five seconds' time when I remembered where I was and why I was there.

This is the day when we had the brouhaha with the hotel, so we didn't get to hit the town until the evening. Had yummy fajitas at Armando's in Mexicantown, and I was fucking thrilled to get a Jell-O shot with the check. I mean, really: Can you think of a better incentive not to dine and dash?

We were kinda beat from all the hassle with the hotel, so we headed back to the room, got our drink on and stayed up all night watching hours of The Office. We also sat in our room's huge window seats and watched cars passing over the Ambassador Bridge and driving through Windsor. It was a great night.

Friday, December 11 (GAME DAY, PART TWO):

Yep, the day I was born to live through: Detroit v. Anaheim, Good v. Evil, Awesome v. Vomit.


In the interim, I had received even more threatening messages from all sorts of naysayers about how TSO had jinxed the team by being in the D. Seriously, though, I was in tears during the second intermission, and it takes a lot to make me teary-eyed. I just couldn't believe that we were on the verge of watching another loss, another shutout, at that, especially at the hands of a team I hate more than almost anything.

Then, this guy saved the day by breaking the scoring drought:



(Also, I decided to give this guy a hug, just for good measure. I can't believe we got to run into him, too!)



The Wings won in OT, which for me, was just amazing; sure, Anaheim gained a point out of the excursion, which is upsetting, but seeing the Wings triumph in OT hockey, in person, and watching the Ducks get screwed by one of their infamous egregious penalties was just fanfuckingtastic.

Insanity ensued:




Saturday, December 12 (Getting Sad, Last Day)

We took this opportunity to visit Pegasus again. We had a server without the same dynamism as the lady we had on our first night in town. She was incredible; she did "Oooooo-paaaaaaa!" so loudly, the entire restaurant turned to look. And that's the way Opa should be done.

On our Saturday afternoon lunch, we observed as many people partook of the saganaki, and not a single server delivered it with what The Scrappy Octopus determines to be acceptable pizzazz. In order to propagate proper Opa etiquette, we are launching a new investigative/informative sister-site, Rate My Opa! We feel an important call to duty to spread the word about subpar Opas and to provide an outlet for others to let out their anguish and resentment stemming from bad Opa experiences. We are excepting submissions.

Also, we drove around forever to take pictures around town. I took, approximately, a bajillion. I'm going to be making a photo album on Flickr...soon.

Saturday night, we watched the game from Hockeytown. Is it always that deserted for away games? One of the bartenders told us that he figures more people hang out in the 'burbs instead of coming back into downtown. Interestingly, scores of people who were attending the shows around Hockeytown kept dropping in for drinks, and they looked like they were going to a rave, so with our Wings' gear on (and the huge table of Wings' diehards behind us), combined with the people who looked like they were going to a rave, I felt like I should have been dropping X and waving glowsticks when the Wings scored. (I mean, I already had on a diaper, so I was pretty much rave-ready.)

A few random notes:

1. I love Red Pop. First time I'd tried it, and I'm hooked. Bought a bunch of it to bring home with us.

2. We also tried Better Made chips for the first time; I especially adore the Red Hot BBQ variety. I bought some to bring home, too, but I'm looking for a liaison in Michigan who is willing to send me some on a periodic basis. We'll set up a schedule, and maybe we can use Pay Pal or something. Any takers?

3. Checked out some awesome places in Midtown: Good Girls Go to Paris Crepes, which has like thirty different kinds of crepes. I got this awesome kind with lox and horseradish. I really wanted to try some of the sweet types, like strawberry and chocolate, but one crepe is HUGE and enough to fill you up. The inside of the restaurant is cute, too; they have huge posters of old French films on the walls. Guys, this is a great place to take your girlfriends on a date.

4. Leopold's Books is right next door. Small collection of books, but what he has totally rocks. If you're a book snob (I figure, if everybody likes it, then it probably sucks), check this place out. He also has a nice assortment of Detroit-related books and ones published by the Wayne State Press.

5. If you're into artsy stuff--or you're Xmas shopping for an artsy friend--City Bird on Canfield is a nice little shop with all sorts of Detroit-centric items. I picked up this necklace, plus a journal and a kickass wallet made from recycled Meijer shopping bags. Now I'll think of the D each and every time I pull out my ID to get carded. How sweet is that?

6. Speaking of IDs, not a single place carded me, with the exception of the Joe and Hockeytown. I get carded every place back home, including places I go to all the time, and I always thought it was because I look and act twelve. Maybe I showed some maturity in Michigan? Naahhh, that doesn't feel right.

7. What's the weirdest thing I've ever seen in a bathroom stall?



An ad with a fucking speaker at the bottom of it! How freaky would that be, if that thing started talking to you while you're on the can? What would you do? (I would say s--- your pants, but you're on the toilet, so that negates that.)

8. What's the second-weirdest thing I've ever seen in a (ladies' room) bathroom stall?



A fucking ashtray!

9. I didn't know our pal Andy from Fight Night at the Joe had his own sushi place downtown. I appreciate the international/somewhat paradoxical nature of the place. Right on, dude:



10. What's the most awesome thing I've ever seen splayed on a bathroom wall (other than my own # and the words "for a good time")?


Geez, who could have put that there? (Hope you like that person's drunken third-grader's handwriting.) Whatevs, how could I feel bad about vandalizing public property when the following poetry shared stall space with mine?


11. I never, ever think of myself as having an accent of any sort, but being in Michigan makes my hillfolk twang stand out like a sore thumb.

12. Also referencing something I said earlier, to all of you out there who were sipping on Haterade before the demolition of the Ducks on Friday (yep, I'm looking at you, Tyler, Chris, Michael, and Andy), anybody want to go ahead and thank TSO for the back-to-back wins on Friday and Saturday? We'll be accepting compliments, postcards, flowers...and rimjobs from Ville Leino only.

Coming soon, I'm going to write a tirade on wardrobe etiquette for hockey games (got a LOT to say on that one), and I will get that photo album up and running. Thanks, Detroit, for the best week ever. Can't wait to see you again. XO--The Scrappy Octopus

(P.S. I have in my possession a very awesome and entertaining video of a very inebriated Brian celebrating the back-to-back wins by dancing to "Soulja Boy". He has thus far refused to let me post it on here. I need encouragement from the blogosphere to get him to let me put it on here. I tried telling him it will bring happiness to so many people. I need your help! A public outpouring demanding the world no longer be deprived of such fabulousness would be much appreciated. Thanks a million.)

Eff. To. The. Yeah.

Didn't want to drop a hard F on the subject line, but since you're still reading, fuuuuuuuuuck, yeahhhhh, baby! Wings demolish Ducks in OT, got to see my real crush, Homer, score, and Voldemort came up big in OT. WOW. Best type of winning scenario for someone who hates the Ducks as much as we do. Getting our wild on times infinity. Probably the best night of my life. Period.

Ducks @ Wings tonight.

I almost titled it "TSO & Ducks @ Wings tonight", but I didn't because (A) I don't want to ever, ever, EVER be involved in a compound subject with those people, and (B) I figured it was a little lame to put ourselves on a pedestal, implying that people really care that we'll be in attendance more than they care about the visiting team. Eh, fuck it. We're going to the game. Considering starting the pregame early--like right now--to get really, really pumped.

We found this really awesome place to eat dinner tonight; it's kinda fancy--several courses--and it pretty much specializes in one specific dish. Here's what's on the menu:

Soup: Polish Duck Soup (Czarnina)

Salad: Mixed Greens with Duck L'Orange Cutlets

Appetizer: Foie Gras

Main Course: Peking Duck

Dessert: PAIN