29 December 2009

Tidings of vomit and bleh.

Hope everybody had a fantastic Christmas. Me? Mine sucked balls, royally. Without going into too much detail, let's just say that by 9 p.m., we had trucked over to the nearest bar that was open, where I downed the first of several double Jack-and-Cokes. A couple of drinks deep, a wave of nostalgia washed over me; I remembered that as a little girl going shopping with her dad on Christmas Eve (our annual tradition, to this day), we'd drive by bars that were open, and I'd tell my dad how sad it was that people patronized bars on holidays when they should be enjoying time with their family and friends. Ha! I wonder how my dad slept at night, knowing he had spawned such a smarmy and losery seven-year-old. Now, as an awesomely fabulous 24-year-old, I am making a vow never to approach another family-oriented holiday in a sober fashion.

Now, in an effort to forget that Christmas 2009 ever happened, we're reviewing the wish list we sent to Santa to see what came true. Here goes:

1. Pavel Datsyuk scores a hat trick in every game ever for the rest of time.

Well. This clearly hasn't happened. He's notched some assists here and there in the month of December, but I'm at least 57% sure he hasn't scored a goal since 1932. B.C. Where'd you go, Pasha? I miss you so. Seems like it's been forever...

It actually hasn't been forever. It's been since December 19 against Dallas. But he only scored one other goal during the month of December, on the 6th, against the Rangers. And it just makes my heart...weep or something. Fuck it, y'all know I can't trash my Pasha too much. This is a ridiculously biased blog with very staunch positions on individual players, and I'd rather have someone pull out my eyelids with a toenail clipper than badmouth Datsyuk or Homer for an extended period of time. In fact, I'm pretty sure Datsyuk could rape my boyfriend, torch my residence, sell my dog on the black market for heroin, and defecate on my grave, and I (or my ghost) would still feel my heart flutter at the mere sight of him on the ice.

2. Because you've already married off Scarlett Johansson, can you please arrange for Henrik Zetterberg to tickle me with his whiskers for just one night of enchantment? (For Brian.)

Man, I totally forgot all about this! So that's why I've been seeing various, little, foreign hairs on the exterior of Brian's shirts, particularly around the neckline and...er, the crotchal region. I'm not even mad. Just relieved that there's a logical solution.

3. Because I'm in love with him and have really thought this through, can you send me Aaron Downey to be my live-in BFF, etc. (For Natalie.)

Done. Thanks, Santa. I owe you a million. Next Christmas, can you bring me a copy of Zen and the Art of Potato Farming? I just want him to accept me.

4. If Ville Leino keeps pissing us off, can you call INS and ask them to revoke his green card and/or visa?

A week after posting our letter to Santa, I had to send follow-up correspondence to the North Pole via overnight courier in order to axe this request. No way, Jose. Ville's staying. TSO's official stance on Leino is that we have the biggest bonercrush in the history of the world on him, and that's not changing any time soon. The fact that Babcock is currently depriving us of him doesn't negate or weaken the flame--consider it smoldering. (And if anybody's wondering about the obvious dichotomy between what I just expressed and what Brian wrote yesterday in his game recap--well, just consider Brian one jealous and conflicted S.O.B.)

5. Fix Johan Franzen's knee. Immediately.

This obviously hasn't happened yet. Sigh. During FSD's pregame before the Stars game on the 19th, however, they did air a segment featuring the Mule's rehabilitation and workouts, so it was nice to see (A) that he's doing well and (B) my second-favorite redhead. It's how I imagine travelers on the Oregon Trail feeling as they approached the Willamette Valley. (I wish I could hire an Indian guide to get me through this shiteous Franzen-less season. Christ on a stick.)

6. A lifetime supply of the products Valtteri Filppula uses to achieve that bedhead/sex-hair magic.

Check. Although I'll never be as gorgeous as Valtteri, I figure I can strive to be the Miss Congeniality (read: sweet but subpar) to his beauty queen. So ridiculously glad to see this guy back in action, though.

7. Crabs to the Anaheim Ducks' locker room.

Done. I, uh, can't tell you guys how I know this, but believe me, it happened. In spades. Mwahaha.

8. A hobby horse for Antoine Vermette so he can get his groove on while off the ice.

Isn't this how he's now traveling to games?

9. Can you ban Sidney Crosby for wearing lipstick? It just grosses us out.

Haven't seen him lately, but I can tell you one thing. I sure am sick of seeing this shit on the NHL Network:

10. A set of Red Wings thongs. Also for Brian. He's been practicing his runway walk in anticipation of sporting these.

What do you think was the inspiration for this?

11. A black Am Ex for Ken Hitchcock, to be used only at Tim Hortons.

Let's be honest. This was secretly for me.

12. Stanley Cup #12.

There's always hope.


  1. Solid gold, Natalie. Call me if you want the Val sex-hair secret. I may have done something I regret to find out what it was, but I'm not against sharing the wealth.

  2. Do I have a problem if after reading that all I can think is first how much I dislike Crosby, and 2nd that I could go for a Jack and Coke?


    I think I saw hitchcock get arrested at a Tim Hortons for loitering; but the staff dropped the charges because he had in reality just been buying shit in 15 minute intervals for the past four days.

  4. Hi-larious. Though could you add an extra round of crabs for the Ducks' fans, too? They seem to be an extra-special variety of douche.