There is so much I'm pissed off about right now:
1. What's worse than seeing the Wings lose? Seeing them get shut out in person.
2. What's worse than seeing the Wings get shut out in person? Seeing Dan Cleary get injured in person and finding out the day after that he'll be out for up to four weeks with a separated shoulder (via Bruce MacLeod's Twitter). What. The. Fuck. This, of course, means that The Scrappy Octopus's new bonercrush, Ville Leino, returns gallantly to the lineup tomorrow night against the Anaheim Ducks. At least the booing of the opposing team will drown out my booing of Mr. Leino himself. Just kidding. I'll probably just throw my panties at him or something since I'm now so in love with him. (Ah, it really is just a distraction, typing this bullshit, from what really blows ass: Dan Cleary is the 927th Red Wing to be injured this season. At this rate, I expect to walk away from the game tomorrow night with a pickaxe shoved up my ass or something.)
3. This isn't necessarily worse than Items 1 and 2, but we're getting fucked over by our hotel; as of 11 a.m. today, when we were getting ready to leave to grab some lunch, we discovered that the hotel had charged us approximately 133% of the cost of our stay here, in addition to the charge we'd already incurred by Travelocity for booking the stay in the first place. The person at the front desk explained that the hotel hadn't gotten paid by Travelocity; how this is our fucking problem, I do not know. But it really is a great policy, isn't it? You can imagine that being double-charged for a six-night stay at a hotel in Detroit is not an inexpensive affair. Needless to say, we pitched a fit, and the person at the front desk has been "on the phone" with Travelocity, attempting to sort out the ordeal, for approximately two hours now. Fuck. This.
Oh, and if anybody's curious, we're staying at the Omni Riverfront. Would have highly recommended it until now.
10 December 2009
08 December 2009
A real bummer.
Catching up on a little news this evening, The Scrappy Octopus is shocked and dismayed to discover the following, per Ansar Khan, in reference to tomorrow night's game, which we will be attending:
Dear Ville,
Hey, it's your BFF, The Scrappy Octopus. Look, I know we haven't exactly seen eye-to-eye lately. In fact, I've pretty much said I've hated your guts and that you can eat shit for all I care, but don't you realize that this is all part of an elaborately constructed facade? I don't know how to say this, so I guess I should just say it directly and bluntly: I think I'm in love with you.
What can I say? I really didn't have a choice in the matter. It's the way you move around the ice with seemingly no real sense of direction or purpose--that sort of freedom and spontaneity drives me absolutely wild. If I were your girl, I'd never know what to expect. We could be just sitting there, watching a movie, and all of a sudden--BAM!--here comes the shocker. How thrilling! And remember how you said last year that you were going back to Europe if you didn't get a spot on the roster, so it got all your fans really excited, thinking this would be a breakout year for you? Well, the fact that you aren't producing doesn't make me mad at all. It's this tough talk and subsequent incongruity between what you say and what you do that really turns me on. You're such a non-conformist, and you know that people like me always want precisely what appears unattainable and elusive. Oh, and don't even get me started about the way you shoot off into the netherworld: It tells me that I'd never, ever have to worry about emergency contraception or even regular birth control if we got it popping.
I know some people out there think that once your former linemate Valtteri Filppula returns, you may start producing points and making a difference. But I, for one, just want you to know this: Please, Ville, don't ever, ever change. Be the amazingly badass, rebel-without-a-cause bad boy that you are. You have at least one fan out here who just can't get enough of it.
XOXO,
The Scrappy Octopus
Coach Mike Babcock said forward Ville Leino will be a healthy scratch for the second straight game Wednesday against St. Louis at Joe Louis Arena.I don't know how to tell you guys this because I don't want you to think of me as a superficial, disingenuous turncoat. But I really think I might be on "Team Ville" now. Actually, I know I am. I got a T-shirt made today and everything. (You can order your own right here on the site.) In fact, I have drafted a letter to send to Ville, from a fan to an idol on a pedestal, in which I hope to provide him some sort of encouragement and hope for a brighter day tomorrow. I've copied it below in hopes that you all will give me a chance to present my side of things. I trust that with your open-mindedness and intelligence, by the end of this, you will at least be able to appreciate my perspective, if not maybe believe it a little bit yourself. Here goes:
Dear Ville,
Hey, it's your BFF, The Scrappy Octopus. Look, I know we haven't exactly seen eye-to-eye lately. In fact, I've pretty much said I've hated your guts and that you can eat shit for all I care, but don't you realize that this is all part of an elaborately constructed facade? I don't know how to say this, so I guess I should just say it directly and bluntly: I think I'm in love with you.
What can I say? I really didn't have a choice in the matter. It's the way you move around the ice with seemingly no real sense of direction or purpose--that sort of freedom and spontaneity drives me absolutely wild. If I were your girl, I'd never know what to expect. We could be just sitting there, watching a movie, and all of a sudden--BAM!--here comes the shocker. How thrilling! And remember how you said last year that you were going back to Europe if you didn't get a spot on the roster, so it got all your fans really excited, thinking this would be a breakout year for you? Well, the fact that you aren't producing doesn't make me mad at all. It's this tough talk and subsequent incongruity between what you say and what you do that really turns me on. You're such a non-conformist, and you know that people like me always want precisely what appears unattainable and elusive. Oh, and don't even get me started about the way you shoot off into the netherworld: It tells me that I'd never, ever have to worry about emergency contraception or even regular birth control if we got it popping.
I know some people out there think that once your former linemate Valtteri Filppula returns, you may start producing points and making a difference. But I, for one, just want you to know this: Please, Ville, don't ever, ever change. Be the amazingly badass, rebel-without-a-cause bad boy that you are. You have at least one fan out here who just can't get enough of it.
XOXO,
The Scrappy Octopus
06 December 2009
Detroit Rock City in 30 +/- hours...
On the itinerary for today:
1. Pack.
2. Birthday present shopping for Brian's dad.
3. Pack.
4. Limit my coffee intake so I can try to go to sleep tonight at a decent time.
5. Pack.
6. Watch the Wings @ Rangers tonight. (Should be epic--Brian predicted a limb malfunction/loss for one Marian Gaborik, so if the game is half as exciting as that bold statement, we're going to have a blast.)
7. Pack.
Can you tell I fucking hate packing?
***
Just wanted to put something quick out there: Thank you, thank you to everyone who gave us suggestions of things and places to check out while we're in town. You guys are the best. Now we're even MORE excited about everything ever, and we didn't think that was even possible. From now on, I'm going to consult you all on every single one of my major life decisions and personal issues, so get ready to enjoy this bond we now have with one another. (For starters, let me ask you a question about this burning sensation I recently experienced...)
***
We'll be staying in touch via Twitter, and I'll have my laptop, although I can't promise we'll be coherent enough to write anything meaningful post-game. If our experience goes anything like we hoped for in our itinerary, one or more of the following may ensue:
1. Arrests. For stealing a kid's Zamboni toy. Whatever, you now know how I feel about children.
2. Something may get lit on fire. I'm just saying. If someone levels Corey Perry or Ryan Getzlaf or, really, anybody on that squad, I'm pretty sure I'll need to incorporate "Opa!" into the evening's festivities.
3a. Having the best experience of our lives, period, or...
3b. Being found face-down in a gutter in a pile of our own bile. It really is an all-or-nothing situation.
1. Pack.
2. Birthday present shopping for Brian's dad.
3. Pack.
4. Limit my coffee intake so I can try to go to sleep tonight at a decent time.
5. Pack.
6. Watch the Wings @ Rangers tonight. (Should be epic--Brian predicted a limb malfunction/loss for one Marian Gaborik, so if the game is half as exciting as that bold statement, we're going to have a blast.)
7. Pack.
Can you tell I fucking hate packing?
***
Just wanted to put something quick out there: Thank you, thank you to everyone who gave us suggestions of things and places to check out while we're in town. You guys are the best. Now we're even MORE excited about everything ever, and we didn't think that was even possible. From now on, I'm going to consult you all on every single one of my major life decisions and personal issues, so get ready to enjoy this bond we now have with one another. (For starters, let me ask you a question about this burning sensation I recently experienced...)
***
We'll be staying in touch via Twitter, and I'll have my laptop, although I can't promise we'll be coherent enough to write anything meaningful post-game. If our experience goes anything like we hoped for in our itinerary, one or more of the following may ensue:
1. Arrests. For stealing a kid's Zamboni toy. Whatever, you now know how I feel about children.
2. Something may get lit on fire. I'm just saying. If someone levels Corey Perry or Ryan Getzlaf or, really, anybody on that squad, I'm pretty sure I'll need to incorporate "Opa!" into the evening's festivities.
3a. Having the best experience of our lives, period, or...
3b. Being found face-down in a gutter in a pile of our own bile. It really is an all-or-nothing situation.
05 December 2009
Homer scores #200.
As of the second intermission in tonight's game against the New Jersey Devils, Tomas "For Sure" Holmstrom is the proud owner of goal #200 in his professional career.
I've been waiting to write this post forever, as Homer's scoring flurry early in the season has slowed as of late.
To explain how pumped I am for Homer to achieve this milestone, I need to tell you a key fact about myself: I hate kids. And I don't mean, "Oh, I'm too young to enjoy the presence of babies" or "Kids get on my nerves a little bit, but I love to marvel at how cute they are." Nah. Not so much. The only exception I make to this otherwise unwavering characteristic of my personality is that I love my niece and nephews to pieces, mostly, I presume, because they are my niece and nephews, and, therefore, are an extension of my awesomeness by proxy. If I decide to have children one day, I know I'll love them with all my heart, but because I'm not yet a parent, I don't know what that's like.
But I can't really deal with other people's children. I don't have the patience or the interest. I don't want to have my coworker throw ten thousand photos of her grandchildren in my face and expect me to comment enthusiastically on every single fucking last one of them. I don't want to be forced to hold someone else's baby. I don't want to sit next to screaming little mini heathens in a restaurant and be expected to find their blathering and screeching adorable. I don't want to be expected to babysit and occupy their attention when they come into my place of employment and are left unattended by their inept parents.
It's just not me. I recognize this as perhaps unusual, maybe even completely unorthodox. As a member of the female sex, I know I'm generally expected to have some sort of intrinsic maternal instinct at some point in my life. But at age 23, I don't. (To clarify, I'm not completely anti-children/anti-parenting: I think parents should dote on their kids and support their kids and think their kids are just the greatest fucking thing on earth since sliced bread, so if you happen to be a parent, and you're reading this, and you're a great parent--rock on. It's just that so often, people freak out over other people's babies and whatnot; I don't. And it doesn't really faze me that I don't have that inclination.)
All that being said, watching Homer do his thing and score this landmark goal, for me, is the closest thing I've ever felt to being proud of someone else's kid do something amazing. I love Homer so much. And if this is what having that misplaced maternal instinct feels like, then I'm going to be a kickass parent in the event that someday, Brian and I decide to give the whole bun-in-the-oven thing the old college try because to be honest with you, I just want to grab Homer, take him to a store, and tell him to pick out his favorite toy for doing such a great job. And maybe we can go for a Happy Meal and some ice cream afterwards. And, if we have time, maybe we'll even go to the park. And, oh geez, I heart you, Homer.
I've been waiting to write this post forever, as Homer's scoring flurry early in the season has slowed as of late.
To explain how pumped I am for Homer to achieve this milestone, I need to tell you a key fact about myself: I hate kids. And I don't mean, "Oh, I'm too young to enjoy the presence of babies" or "Kids get on my nerves a little bit, but I love to marvel at how cute they are." Nah. Not so much. The only exception I make to this otherwise unwavering characteristic of my personality is that I love my niece and nephews to pieces, mostly, I presume, because they are my niece and nephews, and, therefore, are an extension of my awesomeness by proxy. If I decide to have children one day, I know I'll love them with all my heart, but because I'm not yet a parent, I don't know what that's like.
But I can't really deal with other people's children. I don't have the patience or the interest. I don't want to have my coworker throw ten thousand photos of her grandchildren in my face and expect me to comment enthusiastically on every single fucking last one of them. I don't want to be forced to hold someone else's baby. I don't want to sit next to screaming little mini heathens in a restaurant and be expected to find their blathering and screeching adorable. I don't want to be expected to babysit and occupy their attention when they come into my place of employment and are left unattended by their inept parents.
It's just not me. I recognize this as perhaps unusual, maybe even completely unorthodox. As a member of the female sex, I know I'm generally expected to have some sort of intrinsic maternal instinct at some point in my life. But at age 23, I don't. (To clarify, I'm not completely anti-children/anti-parenting: I think parents should dote on their kids and support their kids and think their kids are just the greatest fucking thing on earth since sliced bread, so if you happen to be a parent, and you're reading this, and you're a great parent--rock on. It's just that so often, people freak out over other people's babies and whatnot; I don't. And it doesn't really faze me that I don't have that inclination.)
All that being said, watching Homer do his thing and score this landmark goal, for me, is the closest thing I've ever felt to being proud of someone else's kid do something amazing. I love Homer so much. And if this is what having that misplaced maternal instinct feels like, then I'm going to be a kickass parent in the event that someday, Brian and I decide to give the whole bun-in-the-oven thing the old college try because to be honest with you, I just want to grab Homer, take him to a store, and tell him to pick out his favorite toy for doing such a great job. And maybe we can go for a Happy Meal and some ice cream afterwards. And, if we have time, maybe we'll even go to the park. And, oh geez, I heart you, Homer.
04 December 2009
I love you, Detroit (Reprise).
On Monday, Brian and I will be leaving wild and wonderful West Virginia to embark on our epic pilgrimage to Hockeytown, and we are so totally and completely stoked.
The trip is part of our celebration of annivirthdaysmas, which is my way of telling you that I'm a complete fucking nerd who enjoys combining the words anniversary + my birthday + Christmas (oh, boy, and let me assure you that this is not the first year I've used that little ditty). Basically, those three occasions fall in the course of fewer than two weeks, so we like to do one big, awesome thing to acknowledge the entire triumvirate.
I've been working on this post here and there, but honestly, I've tried to put it off as long as possible because I want to be able to deal with the final days back home as calmly as possible (like that's going to happen). Anyway, here it is; my apologies for the loquacious title, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
Itinerary for Detroit/Things I Love About Detroit/Awesome Things That Need to Happen in Detroit While We're There
1. Starting with the obvious: Holy shit, we're going to see the Wings play IN PERSON. Typing that, it sounds ridiculous to me to be flipping out about seeing the team that I write about on an almost daily basis, but I feel like an ADHD-diagnosed six-year-old when I think about it. Sigh. Words can't express how excited I am for this.
We'll be at the St. Louis game on Wednesday, the 9th, and the Anaheim(!!!!) game on Friday, the 11th. A couple of notes on this:
a. I can't tell you how utterly disappointed I was to discover that only the first couple thousand kids get a Wings Zamboni toy at the Blues game. My first thought is that I'm pretty good at passing as a twelve-year-old, so I know I could pull it off, but that opens the door to starting a ruckus when it comes time to start downing some brew. My next inclination is to bribe and/or intimidate aunlucky recipient of said toy. Anyway, if you hear of any weird arrest stories that night, you'll know what's up.
b. I can't wait to be able to boo the Ducks in person. I'm girding my loins for this--gearing down and keying up.
c. Give me enough drinks, and I will star in a video that will promptly go up on this blog under the tag "dance dance assholes". (You know how I feel about dancing fans.)
2. Tim. Motherfucking. Hortons. Yes, I have done this before. So what? I have no pride. I don't care if it makes me sound like Ken Hitchcock's long-lost daughter (or lover...or both--OK, that's too gross, even for me). But the chocolate Timbits = the best thing in the entire fucking universe. The closest Tim Hortons to where we live is in Wheeling, which is almost 3.5 hours away. And the thing is, people from here who have never experienced the awesome goodness of Tim Hortons have no idea; they look at me like I have seven heads when I insist that they've never had a donut like this before in their entire lives. All we have are Krispy Kreme and Dunkin' Donuts. Not. Even. Close. I can't wait to stuff my face with Timbits. (Sickos, I said Timbits, not Tim's Bits...I don't even know who the fuck Tim is. Calm down.)
3. We get to spend approximately six hours on the PA and OH Turnpikes! [Item #3 intentionally omitted.]
4. Oh, Michigan, you call your liquor stores "party stores". I like to party. One word and one word only: Kismet.
5. Speaking of hooch, I don't know if you guys have any idea how ridiculous alcohol laws are around these parts. West Virginia itself isn't so bad, but because we live in the eastern part of the state, we often find ourselves out of state and therefore subject to the ridiculousness that is Virginia and Pennsylvania. Virginia makes you buy your stuff at state-run ABC stores--imagine being an underage college student and trying to pass off your fake ID with the stringent bitchfaces they employ there. Pennsylvania's even weirder: Imagine you want to buy a six-pack of your favorite brew. (Or, you want to buy me some, in which case, I'll take some Saranac Adirondack Lager, and good luck finding it. If not, Molson Canadian will do just fine, especially since we'll get to ask each other amazing would-you-prefers.) Anyway, you waltz into what appears to be a full-tilt liquor store and peruse the coolers looking for the goods, but alas! None to be found--only liquor and wine are available at such places. To purchase beer, you have to seek out a bar that does off-premises sales.
Michigan, I love you: Beer, wine, and liquor are available in your neighborhood Meijer. (For us back East, Meijer = all-purpose fun store, along the same lines of Target or K-Mart or Walmart.) Amazing. Haven't had this much exposure to the ability to get my drunkface on, snag a jumbo box of extra-special ribbed condoms, browse greeting cards to send to my grandma, stock up on Oodles of Noodles (you know, for the apocalypse), and pick out an entirely new wardrobe since visiting Brian during the early days of our relationship when he lived in Omaha, the only other place I've ever been where liquor is sold in box/grocery stores. God bless the Midwest.
6. Brian gets a front-row seat to a concert featuring Natalie's covers of all the greats, including, but not limited to, Britney Spears, Cher, M.I.A. (I do the gunshot part on "Paper Planes" REALLY ridiculously well, pretty much a carryover from my days in the 'hood), Lady Gaga, and well, you can imagine the rest. Interpretive dancing via "seat grooving" will also ensue. [Item #6 also intentionally omitted, although not for lack of existence--mostly so Brian doesn't back out on this awesomely long road trip upon experiencing a massive case of cold feet after reading this. Shhh...]
7. I want to get a bicycle thrown at our moving car again. I am not joking. This happened to us the last time we were in Detroit--actually, it happened after we left the bar after the game. We were driving back to our hotel, and some alleged homeless (but not immobile!) dude slugged an empty glass bottle at the moving car, but when he missed (by a mile), he proceeded to pull the bike out from under him, and we thought he was just doing a stunt and that he'd hold on to the handlebars, but instead, he let go of the handlebars and straight up threw the bike at the car. We were driving fast enough that it missed. Sure, laugh if you want, but come on, what would you have thought in a situation like that?! I mean, really: Have you ever met a homeless person who didn't try to entertain you endlessly with his/her glorious feats, such as reinterpreting the Flobots' greatest hit? And you want to judge me...
8. I want to go to Pegasus Taverna again and get the flaming cheese and have people yell "Opa!" at me. I love that so much. Now that I think about it, I might apply "Opa!" to my everyday life. It would be the perfect antidote to tedious days at work. Exhibit A: Some sumbitch attempts to give me the business on the phone by demanding last-minute that I pull some paperwork out of my ass? And now I want to tell him to go fuck himself? Why do that when I can just light something on fire and scream "Opa!" instead? (Just the thought brings a smile to my face--never mind the fact that crazy rednecks would have no clue what the hell I'm talking about. Win-win situation for yours truly.)
9. I saw this thing on Anthony Bourdain's show No Reservations about feather bowling at Cadieux Cafe. Can somebody please shed some light on this for me? What the fuck is feather bowling? Can anybody do it? Is it fun? Lame? Sketchy? All of the above? I'm totally intrigued. I mean...it's called feather bowling, and it's not even played with balls, but with these crazy cheese wheel thingys. Amazing. I fucking hate regular bowling, but I could really get behind this if it's half as excellent as its name implies.
10. Basic enough, but I want to see snow. Lots of it. It hasn't snowed here yet. I love snow.
***
Despite my wisecracks about hillbillies and whatnot, I love where I live. West Virginia is an amazing and beautiful place. But there are so many things equally wonderful about Detroit and Michigan at large. Brian and I cannot wait to return. I haven't slept in a week, I've been so excited. (And we ran out of quaaludes because Brian went overboard. Damnit!)
If you guys have any suggestions about restaurants, bars, landmarks, etc., that we should check out while we're there, please, please, please comment away. We'll be there for almost a whole week, so we'll have plenty of time to explore.
Also, if any of you scrappy people are going to be at either of the games, definitely let us know so we can say howdy to you during intermission or something. And fear not, young grasshoppers: Sure, this blog is ridiculous, but we're not sketchy individuals. As far as we know, neither of us has any relatives in Michigan, so you don't have to worry any bodily inappropriateness--we aresecond cousins West Virginians, after all. Oooooewwww...
The trip is part of our celebration of annivirthdaysmas, which is my way of telling you that I'm a complete fucking nerd who enjoys combining the words anniversary + my birthday + Christmas (oh, boy, and let me assure you that this is not the first year I've used that little ditty). Basically, those three occasions fall in the course of fewer than two weeks, so we like to do one big, awesome thing to acknowledge the entire triumvirate.
I've been working on this post here and there, but honestly, I've tried to put it off as long as possible because I want to be able to deal with the final days back home as calmly as possible (like that's going to happen). Anyway, here it is; my apologies for the loquacious title, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
1. Starting with the obvious: Holy shit, we're going to see the Wings play IN PERSON. Typing that, it sounds ridiculous to me to be flipping out about seeing the team that I write about on an almost daily basis, but I feel like an ADHD-diagnosed six-year-old when I think about it. Sigh. Words can't express how excited I am for this.
We'll be at the St. Louis game on Wednesday, the 9th, and the Anaheim(!!!!) game on Friday, the 11th. A couple of notes on this:
a. I can't tell you how utterly disappointed I was to discover that only the first couple thousand kids get a Wings Zamboni toy at the Blues game. My first thought is that I'm pretty good at passing as a twelve-year-old, so I know I could pull it off, but that opens the door to starting a ruckus when it comes time to start downing some brew. My next inclination is to bribe and/or intimidate a
b. I can't wait to be able to boo the Ducks in person. I'm girding my loins for this--gearing down and keying up.
c. Give me enough drinks, and I will star in a video that will promptly go up on this blog under the tag "dance dance assholes". (You know how I feel about dancing fans.)
2. Tim. Motherfucking. Hortons. Yes, I have done this before. So what? I have no pride. I don't care if it makes me sound like Ken Hitchcock's long-lost daughter (or lover...or both--OK, that's too gross, even for me). But the chocolate Timbits = the best thing in the entire fucking universe. The closest Tim Hortons to where we live is in Wheeling, which is almost 3.5 hours away. And the thing is, people from here who have never experienced the awesome goodness of Tim Hortons have no idea; they look at me like I have seven heads when I insist that they've never had a donut like this before in their entire lives. All we have are Krispy Kreme and Dunkin' Donuts. Not. Even. Close. I can't wait to stuff my face with Timbits. (Sickos, I said Timbits, not Tim's Bits...I don't even know who the fuck Tim is. Calm down.)
4. Oh, Michigan, you call your liquor stores "party stores". I like to party. One word and one word only: Kismet.
5. Speaking of hooch, I don't know if you guys have any idea how ridiculous alcohol laws are around these parts. West Virginia itself isn't so bad, but because we live in the eastern part of the state, we often find ourselves out of state and therefore subject to the ridiculousness that is Virginia and Pennsylvania. Virginia makes you buy your stuff at state-run ABC stores--imagine being an underage college student and trying to pass off your fake ID with the stringent bitchfaces they employ there. Pennsylvania's even weirder: Imagine you want to buy a six-pack of your favorite brew. (Or, you want to buy me some, in which case, I'll take some Saranac Adirondack Lager, and good luck finding it. If not, Molson Canadian will do just fine, especially since we'll get to ask each other amazing would-you-prefers.) Anyway, you waltz into what appears to be a full-tilt liquor store and peruse the coolers looking for the goods, but alas! None to be found--only liquor and wine are available at such places. To purchase beer, you have to seek out a bar that does off-premises sales.
Michigan, I love you: Beer, wine, and liquor are available in your neighborhood Meijer. (For us back East, Meijer = all-purpose fun store, along the same lines of Target or K-Mart or Walmart.) Amazing. Haven't had this much exposure to the ability to get my drunkface on, snag a jumbo box of extra-special ribbed condoms, browse greeting cards to send to my grandma, stock up on Oodles of Noodles (you know, for the apocalypse), and pick out an entirely new wardrobe since visiting Brian during the early days of our relationship when he lived in Omaha, the only other place I've ever been where liquor is sold in box/grocery stores. God bless the Midwest.
7. I want to get a bicycle thrown at our moving car again. I am not joking. This happened to us the last time we were in Detroit--actually, it happened after we left the bar after the game. We were driving back to our hotel, and some alleged homeless (but not immobile!) dude slugged an empty glass bottle at the moving car, but when he missed (by a mile), he proceeded to pull the bike out from under him, and we thought he was just doing a stunt and that he'd hold on to the handlebars, but instead, he let go of the handlebars and straight up threw the bike at the car. We were driving fast enough that it missed. Sure, laugh if you want, but come on, what would you have thought in a situation like that?! I mean, really: Have you ever met a homeless person who didn't try to entertain you endlessly with his/her glorious feats, such as reinterpreting the Flobots' greatest hit? And you want to judge me...
8. I want to go to Pegasus Taverna again and get the flaming cheese and have people yell "Opa!" at me. I love that so much. Now that I think about it, I might apply "Opa!" to my everyday life. It would be the perfect antidote to tedious days at work. Exhibit A: Some sumbitch attempts to give me the business on the phone by demanding last-minute that I pull some paperwork out of my ass? And now I want to tell him to go fuck himself? Why do that when I can just light something on fire and scream "Opa!" instead? (Just the thought brings a smile to my face--never mind the fact that crazy rednecks would have no clue what the hell I'm talking about. Win-win situation for yours truly.)
9. I saw this thing on Anthony Bourdain's show No Reservations about feather bowling at Cadieux Cafe. Can somebody please shed some light on this for me? What the fuck is feather bowling? Can anybody do it? Is it fun? Lame? Sketchy? All of the above? I'm totally intrigued. I mean...it's called feather bowling, and it's not even played with balls, but with these crazy cheese wheel thingys. Amazing. I fucking hate regular bowling, but I could really get behind this if it's half as excellent as its name implies.
10. Basic enough, but I want to see snow. Lots of it. It hasn't snowed here yet. I love snow.
***
Despite my wisecracks about hillbillies and whatnot, I love where I live. West Virginia is an amazing and beautiful place. But there are so many things equally wonderful about Detroit and Michigan at large. Brian and I cannot wait to return. I haven't slept in a week, I've been so excited. (And we ran out of quaaludes because Brian went overboard. Damnit!)
If you guys have any suggestions about restaurants, bars, landmarks, etc., that we should check out while we're there, please, please, please comment away. We'll be there for almost a whole week, so we'll have plenty of time to explore.
Also, if any of you scrappy people are going to be at either of the games, definitely let us know so we can say howdy to you during intermission or something. And fear not, young grasshoppers: Sure, this blog is ridiculous, but we're not sketchy individuals. As far as we know, neither of us has any relatives in Michigan, so you don't have to worry any bodily inappropriateness--we are
03 December 2009
Wings shit the bed; lose 4-1
Well, tonights game was.....something. The same deal as usual; not enough effort, another injury, a goalie who played above his head; blah blah blah. Watching a Wings game should not make me want to drink heavily, but this did. A few points from the game:
1. You know how some games are really close, say 1-0, but the team that is ahead is completely dominating the flow, shots, and every single aspect of the game? We've all seen the Wings do that; close score, but the game never seems in doubt. Tonight was like that...
...except the exact opposite. Down 1-0, 2-0, it never really seemed like the Wings had a shot, did it?
2. Meech had two nice games in a row. Tonight, he remembered he was Derek Meech. It couldve been worse I guess. Good lord he got steamrolled several times.
3. -2, sure, but Kindl was pretty good, yes?
4. The second power play unit is still a huge shit show.
5. Its strange to say, with your goalie giving up four goals and all, but Jimmy played well tonight, yes? I like him approximately 200% more than I did a while ago when he could not grasp the concept of catching a puck/controlling a rebound. Sure, he could've stopped the second slow dribbler, but for the others, when Brett Lebda is slapping pucks at you and folks are shitting their pants, what else could he have done? Some nice saves tonight by Jimmy.
6. Actual quote by Babcock after the game, referencing Ericsson's injury: "I don't know what's going on, I don't have enough courage to go in and ask". Sort of sums up alot of things.
7. NOT good enough tonight.
8. Devils Saturday, Rangers Sunday. Pointess prediction - Sunday will be Marion Gaborik's annual "done for the year" injury. Just a hunch. Go Wings.
1. You know how some games are really close, say 1-0, but the team that is ahead is completely dominating the flow, shots, and every single aspect of the game? We've all seen the Wings do that; close score, but the game never seems in doubt. Tonight was like that...
...except the exact opposite. Down 1-0, 2-0, it never really seemed like the Wings had a shot, did it?
2. Meech had two nice games in a row. Tonight, he remembered he was Derek Meech. It couldve been worse I guess. Good lord he got steamrolled several times.
3. -2, sure, but Kindl was pretty good, yes?
4. The second power play unit is still a huge shit show.
5. Its strange to say, with your goalie giving up four goals and all, but Jimmy played well tonight, yes? I like him approximately 200% more than I did a while ago when he could not grasp the concept of catching a puck/controlling a rebound. Sure, he could've stopped the second slow dribbler, but for the others, when Brett Lebda is slapping pucks at you and folks are shitting their pants, what else could he have done? Some nice saves tonight by Jimmy.
6. Actual quote by Babcock after the game, referencing Ericsson's injury: "I don't know what's going on, I don't have enough courage to go in and ask". Sort of sums up alot of things.
7. NOT good enough tonight.
8. Devils Saturday, Rangers Sunday. Pointess prediction - Sunday will be Marion Gaborik's annual "done for the year" injury. Just a hunch. Go Wings.
Yippee skippee: I get to make one of my favorite jokes now.
Per the Daily Herald of Chicago (and I believe everything I read on the internet), The Scrappy Octopus's favorite Blackhawk, Patrick Kane, has reportedly agreed to a 5-year contract extension, worth $31.5 million.
We at The Scrappy Octopus quickly discovered that there's more than meets the eye to this one.
Apparently, discussions between representatives of the franchise and the star player mounted with tension until finally, they reached a comfortable compromise.
Stan Bowman reached into his pocket, pulled out two dimes, and Mr. Kane signed the necessary documentation.
***
Oilers @ Wings tonight. I've been short on time today, but I did try to find a video of Oilers fans acting a fool in the stands, but for as hyper as their fans get, I couldn't find a single humorous video. I found some recorded celebrations, but they were all boring as fuck. I have failed you all immensely today. Apologies all around.
GO WINGS.
We at The Scrappy Octopus quickly discovered that there's more than meets the eye to this one.
Apparently, discussions between representatives of the franchise and the star player mounted with tension until finally, they reached a comfortable compromise.
Stan Bowman reached into his pocket, pulled out two dimes, and Mr. Kane signed the necessary documentation.
***
Oilers @ Wings tonight. I've been short on time today, but I did try to find a video of Oilers fans acting a fool in the stands, but for as hyper as their fans get, I couldn't find a single humorous video. I found some recorded celebrations, but they were all boring as fuck. I have failed you all immensely today. Apologies all around.
GO WINGS.
02 December 2009
Experiment Time!
Due to my excruciating boredom today, I have decided that we need to take this Scrappy Octopus thing to the next level. What? No, I'm not proposing--did you think we had gotten serious or something? Yikes. Awkwaaaard...
Anyway, if you can't get enough TSO in your life--let's face it, we know you can't possibly imagine your life without us after these last two wonderful months together--catch us on Twitter @scrappyoctopus (no "the"--communist Twitter represses the creativity with their bullshit character limits on account names.).
I'm not really sure what we're going to do with it. I tried having a personal Twitter a while back, and I put up like five tweets, and then I gave up because the pressure of coming up with something fabulous to say in 140 characters or less about my mundane existence was exhaustively soul-crushing. Anyway, this time around, it'll probably be used for random expletives regarding live games, pimping TSO posts, and maybe weak-sauce attempts at cybering with unsuspecting followers. Play your cards right; see what happens.
Anyway, if you can't get enough TSO in your life--let's face it, we know you can't possibly imagine your life without us after these last two wonderful months together--catch us on Twitter @scrappyoctopus (no "the"--communist Twitter represses the creativity with their bullshit character limits on account names.).
I'm not really sure what we're going to do with it. I tried having a personal Twitter a while back, and I put up like five tweets, and then I gave up because the pressure of coming up with something fabulous to say in 140 characters or less about my mundane existence was exhaustively soul-crushing. Anyway, this time around, it'll probably be used for random expletives regarding live games, pimping TSO posts, and maybe weak-sauce attempts at cybering with unsuspecting followers. Play your cards right; see what happens.
We Love Chicks with Balls*
Via NHL Snipers and Total Pro Sports, please, please, PLEASE do yourself a favor and watch the video below.
So, here's the deal. This girl is the only female on her high school hockey team, and she gets taken down by a couple of opponents. Pretty much everyone on the ice thus participates in a raucous melee, but keep your eye on her: She holds her own like a champ.
*I know, I know: She's actually a chick with a puck. But that just doesn't have the same luster, you know?
So, here's the deal. This girl is the only female on her high school hockey team, and she gets taken down by a couple of opponents. Pretty much everyone on the ice thus participates in a raucous melee, but keep your eye on her: She holds her own like a champ.
*I know, I know: She's actually a chick with a puck. But that just doesn't have the same luster, you know?
01 December 2009
Miscellany
Yep, this blog has sunken to a new level of inanity with such a title. I'm sorry, kids, but we're turning over a new leaf on The Scrappy Octopus today. Since we've been nominated for a blog-off award of distinction or some such, plus we're trying to be uber good for Santa this year, we're putting on our halos and toning down the scrappy.
How about a quick show of hands for anybody who believes that? Ha, that's what I thought. You guys are way too fucking awesome and smart for that.
***
So, how about that game last night? Wings win 4-1, with little to no controversy. I know, right? I shat my pants. But don't feel bad for me. It was gleefully in celebration!
Also, it seems that everybody ever hates Ville Leino, so I don't feel so bad about writing that post blasting his ass. I feel a teensy bit of remorse for asking Santa to deport him, but oh, well. I'd deport my own mama if she did what he's been doing. And, er, if my mom were from another country. (I'm totally American. I have Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue" tattooed on my heart. Promise!)
I've been putting off writing this because I haven't wanted to jinx anything or start getting out-of-control excited too early, but your Scrappy Octopi are traveling to Detroit next week! As in, less than a week from RIGHT NOW, we will be partying like rockstars in Detroit Rock City. Holy fuck! I don't even know what to do with myself until then. Before we leave, I'm going to post something random about all the things I hope to do in Detroit (I'll try to keep it PG-13, but I'm really not prepared to make promises I have no real intention of keeping).
***
So, I want to direct your attention to two brand new Wings' blogs: Fight Night at the Joe and Red, White & Black-n-Blue. Andy from FNatJ is a diehard Wings' fan all the way from Norway (awesome), and Christine from RW&BnB is a relative newcomer to hockey fandom (I can relate to that) who shares our affinity for boozing it up while dealing with traumatic games. Both sites are very funny and entertaining and score very highly on my Scrappy-o-Meter, so check them out asap, heathens!
***
Also, I want to take a timeout and thank those of you who have actually voted for this site on the aforesaid contest. From the bottom of my heart, muchos gracias. There are so many amazing Wings' fan sites out there, and to be included among the ones I've read and admired for so long is an honor.
Now, I don't want to encourage bribery or anything, but...if you vote for TSO, we'll have a part deux of the Reader Appreciation Day, featuring BJ's and Levi Johnston and hallucinogens and liquor and who knows what other shenanigans. I have an active imagination, so it's guaranteed to be fun times. (Also, Brian's initials are BJ; I'm not saying, but I'm just saying. Catch my drift?) Anyway, take some time and think it over; the offer is on the table until midnight tomorrow.
How about a quick show of hands for anybody who believes that? Ha, that's what I thought. You guys are way too fucking awesome and smart for that.
***
So, how about that game last night? Wings win 4-1, with little to no controversy. I know, right? I shat my pants. But don't feel bad for me. It was gleefully in celebration!
Also, it seems that everybody ever hates Ville Leino, so I don't feel so bad about writing that post blasting his ass. I feel a teensy bit of remorse for asking Santa to deport him, but oh, well. I'd deport my own mama if she did what he's been doing. And, er, if my mom were from another country. (I'm totally American. I have Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue" tattooed on my heart. Promise!)
I've been putting off writing this because I haven't wanted to jinx anything or start getting out-of-control excited too early, but your Scrappy Octopi are traveling to Detroit next week! As in, less than a week from RIGHT NOW, we will be partying like rockstars in Detroit Rock City. Holy fuck! I don't even know what to do with myself until then. Before we leave, I'm going to post something random about all the things I hope to do in Detroit (I'll try to keep it PG-13, but I'm really not prepared to make promises I have no real intention of keeping).
***
So, I want to direct your attention to two brand new Wings' blogs: Fight Night at the Joe and Red, White & Black-n-Blue. Andy from FNatJ is a diehard Wings' fan all the way from Norway (awesome), and Christine from RW&BnB is a relative newcomer to hockey fandom (I can relate to that) who shares our affinity for boozing it up while dealing with traumatic games. Both sites are very funny and entertaining and score very highly on my Scrappy-o-Meter, so check them out asap, heathens!
***
Also, I want to take a timeout and thank those of you who have actually voted for this site on the aforesaid contest. From the bottom of my heart, muchos gracias. There are so many amazing Wings' fan sites out there, and to be included among the ones I've read and admired for so long is an honor.
Now, I don't want to encourage bribery or anything, but...if you vote for TSO, we'll have a part deux of the Reader Appreciation Day, featuring BJ's and Levi Johnston and hallucinogens and liquor and who knows what other shenanigans. I have an active imagination, so it's guaranteed to be fun times. (Also, Brian's initials are BJ; I'm not saying, but I'm just saying. Catch my drift?) Anyway, take some time and think it over; the offer is on the table until midnight tomorrow.
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