The Kitchen Sink

So, just a little while ago, I was tooling around on Twitter, dazzling my followers with ever-deep insights ("Sometimes, when I write 'Nat' too quickly, it looks like 'Nut.' This makes me happy.") while counting down the minutes until I'm reunited with my distant lova/BFF and we can catch up the way we always do (updating each other on numbers of surprise rimjobs attempted on our persons and debating the merits of boning in a car that also includes children's booster seats) when Drew from Nightmare on Helm Street requested that I post something for his perusal today. Never one to turn down a friendly request from a fellow blogger, here goes: The Kitchen Sink.

That's what we're hereby proclaiming the final 19 games, the homestretch, the jumbo-loaded, four-cheese burrito, if you will. Because that is precisely what the Wings are going to have to throw at their opponents, night after night, to make this playoff thing happen.

Now, before you wonder if TSO is doubting the ability of the Wings to finish the race to the postseason, let us present you with the newly minted TSO creed:

The Newly Minted TSO Creed

1. We believe the Wings have all the pieces necessary not only to make the playoffs, but also to generate a strong playoff run, right through to the very end.

2. We believe Pavel Datsyuk is straight up country-pissed after Russia's disappointing Olympic run, not to mention frustrated with the Wings' current situation (have you ever seen him straight up punch a guy in the face before?!), and he will use "more shoot" to exact vengeance over the next 19.

3. We believe Nicklas Lidstrom is far too perfect to miss out on any postseason.

4. We believe Henrik Zetterberg was put on this earth not simply to make little girls (and boys--hi, Brian) lust after his silky whiskers, but to wreak playoff havoc by dry-humping the opposition's top forwards all over the ice.

5. We believe in Mike Babcock. Period.

6. We believe in the unmatched power of the Mule.

7. We believe the universe doesn't want to exist in a universe in which there's no postseason redux of the Darren Helm kill .

8. We believe that if there is a God, he/she doesn't want to witness the debacle that would inevitably occur if #96 is irked: Homer getting his hands on authentic Viking artillery and destroying the shit out of his mortal enemies.

9. We believe in dancing with Lord Stanley in June. Period.

So, that's it. That's our game plan. We're just going to repeat this to ourselves at every juncture along the next several weeks and wait for the best. Got anything you'd like to add? I intentionally stopped at #9 for obvious reasons, but add away at the bottom of the post till we get to another benchmark number, and we'll tack on a codicil to the creed.

And now--because The Kitchen Sink applies not just to the Wings but also to TSO--we're pulling out all the stops, mixing some old favorites with some new jointz. Let's go, Wings:

Hijinks on a random Thursday.

You know what blows goats?

Waking up on a Tuesday and excitedly thinking to yourself: "Yay, it's already Wednesday!" About ten seconds later comes the cold realization that it's not, in fact, already Wednesday, but just another shitass Tuesday.

Repeat the same for Wednesday...and again for Thursday.

It's been a looooooong week.

So, what better to do than to have another impromptu Reader Appreciation Day?

I had one once before, in my haste to thank the three new people who visited my blog and didn't live in the same ZIP code as me (back in those days, I'm pretty sure Brian didn't even read every post). For said Reader Appreciation Day, I promised various things, involving sexual innuendos and hallucinogens, to anybody who would listen.

Now I feel like we all just kinda deserve a little something to get us through this week. Fuck it, Sweden lost to the most horrible Slovaks last night, and Canada triumphed over the Russians, which makes me sad in my heart because I wanted Datsyuk to do well, but alas, it just wasn't in the cards.

So, here goes. I also promised this before, but promptly forgot, and thereby, failed to deliver. So, here goes. Levi Johnston and his, er, hockey stick:



(There's more out there that's NSFW, but I don't feel like posting it on here. Of course, you know we're the polar opposite of prudes, but I really don't want Levi's manass on the site. If you want to reward yourself with it, feel free to click here or here.)

Also, one more thing before you X out of this window and never return: Courtesy of my bestest, please click this to discover why an octopus is better than your mom. Your life will never be the same.

And finally, just because:

Wednesdays suck.

More specifically, Wednesdays immediately succeeding shitty games suck.

Let's watch a kickass video of a giant octopus!