::alio!::

God Loves Mike Fisher.

First things first:

Could somebody PLEASE tell me the name of the song that plays in the ad for "Walking Tall?"

OMFG! Shakespeare for the 1337! {warning: it's friggin' long.}

Have recently become addicted to a singer named Jason Mraz. Like a combination between Jack Johnson and Ani DiFranco. Almost exactly that. 'Cept he makes a helluva lot of money. He's in Toronto, at the Massey, in May, and I checked out the tix: 35$ a pop! Not for me. You should check him out, if that's your thing. The Johnson/Ani thing, I mean, not the ticket prices. Maybe a smidgen of someone like Remy Shand. Mel Torme? Best scatting I've heard in a while, at least. Cait says that, like John Mayer, she wants to punch him in the face, but I quite like him, despite my distaste for John Mayer.

I don't know where Stefan finds these things, but he sent me this. It's like Matrix-style. Highly amusing.

Hockey fun:

Sooo . . . Danton . . . Hmm . . .

Teams I'm rooting for: Calgary, Montreal, Ottawa. Go CANADA.

Nobody shaves during the playoffs, right? So most of the Ottawa players don't, and they get the playoff beards. Fine. Whatever. What I have issues with is the dudes who TRIM the beards into weird things. Look. Either shave or DON'T. No in-between in the playoffs . . . Bonzai's a good example. That dood has a BAAAAAAD playoff beard.

The SCORE:

So we were all big balls of tense today. Well, it was mostly just me. But we all followed our special rituals. Made sure our underwear wasn't blue. Hell, we even dyed my hair red. Playoff red. I didn't put the pictures up today, in a conscious decision not to. I find that, after a game in which they play like pooh, not putting them up makes them win. Playoff socks. Washed jersey. Mojo shirt. We played a specially crafted (by me) CD of hockey songs, where every second one was the HNIC theme. We blasted it in the car with the windows down when we went to pick up Sarah.

The countdown began. We prepared ourselves, sitting in the same places we sat before, when they won 4-1. Five minutes. Four. Two. Duh-duh-DUH-duh-duh . . . and it had started.

And it started badly. Domi knocked down Lalime, and then Bonzai (the ineffective twit) got four minutes for high sticking "Touqué." The one nice thing about that was seeing Tucker cry blood and then come back to play with six stitches over his eye. Then de Vries (also an ineffective twit) got a tripping penalty on Nieuwendyk. So of course they were going to score with two-man advantage. Bloody McCabe. How dare he suddenly become useful? Patty shoulda stopped it, too. It was a softie and it went five-hole on him. After all the great saves he had . . .

It got better, though -- marginally so. Belfour was already chirping at the referees. This is a good sign. You see, other goalies, e.g. Patty, talk to the refs at breaks for fun. They have conversations about whatever they talk about. They laugh. They joke. In the third, Patty had a nice one with Kerry Fraser, prolly about the mega check Smolinski gave him that had him grinning even before he'd stopped spinning around on the ice. But Belfour is different . . . When he talks to the referees, he does what other Maple Leafs do -- he COMPLAINS. This meant he was angry.

A beautiful check by Alfie on McCabe and a delayed penalty helped to shake him, especially as the mess at the net was at HIS net this time.

We listed to Grapes in the intermission. He never finishes a sentence. Odd man. ACID green suit tonight. Odd man. Who makes his collars?

I think the Leafs have devised a new tactic. Domi did it last game to Neil, and Roberts did it tonight to White. They fall down and then hold onto the Ottawa player's leg, sort of like a small child when it doesn't want its parents to go out. The refs can't call a penalty on it, because they have no idea what they would call it as. Odd play. Very irritating.

Before the game started, I said that Volchenkov would have a good game. And he did. He checked and then he checked and then he ran for pucks and then he checked again. I love that boy.

The second period was "piss Chara off period." It worked. I told Sarah I had a dream about her marrying big Z. She thought about that for a minute, then said, "But then I'd be Sarah Chara." I hadn't thought of that. Hm.

At the end of the second, it was time to call in the big guns. Cait and I had one more ace up our jersey sleeves. It was Timmy Time. Let me elaborate. Last year, Game Six with the Devils (out of the playoffs, WOOHOO!), the boys were down going into the third. Cait and I BOOTED it to T. Ho's, purchased Canadian goodness, and were back in time for the opening face off. Our boys proceeded to whoop the Devil's ass, and they won that game. So we pulled the Timmy Time card tonight. Only works on Game Six, and we can't use it again, but boy, was it worth it.

Chara, really deadly when he's pissed off, checked Nieuwendyk and made him fall. Then he took a feed from Schaefer and knocked it past Belfour at a STOOPER angle. I have no idea how it worked, but it did. Chara then proceeded to flip out, he was so happy.

Phillips made a nice defensive move on Kilger that involved him pushing Kilger over in an abbreviated Chris Phillips move, and that sparked a video review of Ottawa hits of the night. We were amused that most of the checks revolved around Touqué. The "BELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLFOURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR" Chant started up in earnest. Leaf Nation was strangely strangled.

Fisher was brilliant.

Patty was a freaking genius.

My notes as we went into overtime are a little sporadic. I was too tense. I could feel a pulse in my jaw, and my hands were shaking. I had to lie down during a break once. What do my notes say . . . Nice offensive play by Philly. Beautiful check by Schaefer. Nice defensive moves by Philly. Pretty damned tootin' check on Roberts by the lovely and talented Anton Volchenkov. Then Stef took my notepad and scrawled "Holy Shit" on it.

What do my notes say for the SECOND overtime period? Well, it's in AllyCode, but I'll translate. The page is blank except for a really large signification that Mike Fisher scored (assisted by Neil and Vermette). God really does smile upon that boy. Nice to have Him on our side.

There was a moment of calm in the Anstee living room as we basked in the glow from the television and the joy it projected upon us, but then we again fell silent, in contemplation of TUESDAY. We have returned to our state of tension. I'm glad I have a chiropractor's appointment tomorrow. I would be broken otherwise.

Rod had a good point, however. He couldn't understand why we were so hyped up. It was Game SIX of the FIRST Round. Pfft. It IS the Leafs, after all, but still, he was right. I would hate to see me in the third round . . .

I've taken one of my handy-dandy little blue horse tranquilizers, because I know I would never sleep without it tonight. I'm starting to feel it working now, so I will close.

Keep those fingers crossed.

another post to no one in particular . . . I feel like eeyore . . .

Damnit, not again!

Boo.

We played really well the first four games.

We played like shit tonight.

Not like Toronto was any better, but they were better enough -- er.

I'm not even going to go through my notes to recatalogue for you the myriad mistakes made by all the Sens players -- that includes Alfie, Hossa, Chara -- and of course, REDDEN. And I'm not even talking about the goal Brian Smolinski scored on HIS OWN NET.

There were three points of interest, however, in this game, and all happened in the second period. First, there was an update from the Dallas/San Jose front, showing Bill Guerin drop his twig and high-stick HIMSELF in the eye. That was funny. Comic relief for the wake, I suppose. Second, interesting moment where McCabe slid head first into Belfour, with the puck somewhere around his upper body. Upon further reflection, this inspired Belfour to 69 McCabe. Patted him on the belly when he was done in a nice, "thanks, buddy," fashion. I guess Domi's not the only gay leaf in the bluequet. {did you like that pun? I made it up all by myself.} Third, Ottawa, for all its crappy play tonight, did get to Eddie and make him mad. Did you see the way all the Leafs, Cyclops included, went after Philly when the period was through? I'm amazed Chris kept his temper. I wouldn't want to mess with him when he's angry.

That's all I have to say about that. The only good things about tonight are that I had good company, good pizza, good beer, and I watched Kill Bill.

And hearing about this was pretty funny, too.

Holy crap, we really need to win this series. You do not understand.

The Belfour Equation? SOLVED.

Would somebody please tell me what the hell happened to BRODEUR THE WALL this post-season? How could a team that booted Ottawa in Game Seven of the Eastern Conference FINALS be down 3-1 in the FIRST ROUND? Hm.

That was pretty decisive. Rod, Cait's dad, decided we had a winning combination to our spectator system, and so Cait insisted I draw a seating diagram for game six, which is the next time we will all be together. Sarah is not allowed to attend, as she was not part of the winning combination.

So . . . I'm posting this, but it won't be up when I post it, because of the whole Stefan-not-paying-his-bill thing. But that will be solved. I hope.

I was a little distracted in the opening period, because we were all watching Caitlin iron her little sister's hair -- at Julia's insistence, of course. But we were all pleased that Nieuwendyk was injured and back in Toronto. No offense, but he fucked us over with New Jersey last year, so I'm glad he has no chance to do it again.

Weird penalties on all sides tonight. The refs called somethings that were blatant dives (on both sides, to be fair), and then blatantly ignored others that were more honest. Toronto's one goal was on the power play. I think they had six or seven chances. All of Ottawa's goals ('cept maybe the last one?) were at even strength.

At first, it looked like Eddie was going to steal another one for his team. HOWEVER, statistically, the Ottawa Senators, lifetime, both playoffs and regular season, have never been shut out three games in a row. AND Belfour is not one of the seven goalies who holds the record for three consecutive playoff shutouts. You know who does, though? PATTY.

Tonight was not a goose egg night, however. Patty should have stopped Roberts' shot from Sundin and Mogilny, but he didn't. One more notch down on the Respect-O-Meter.

Hossa had a ridiculous breakaway, but fucked it up, and Belfour stopped the puck. Boo. Then there was this ridiculous pileup at the other end on top of Patty. He ended up in the net, and the Toronto player on top of him patted him on the crotch as he got up. I thought that was a little odd. Must've been DOMI. Then there was a shot of Hossa on the bench, still fuming from his fucked up breakaway. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and muttered, "Fuck."

BUT ALL WAS NOT LOST!

Alfredsson took a rebound off Belfour from Havlat (who really did all the work on this one) and knocked a backhand at an odd angle through a tiny hole in Eddie's pads. It was HUGE. The look on Alfie's face said it all. The determination. The pride. The "that's RIGHT, suckers! Who's the BITCH NOW?" Classic.

Sundin took a hooking penalty on Bonk at the end of the first, so the second started with a full two-minute power play. Nothing came of it, and it was horrendously disorganized. Philly took a roughing penalty for punching Marchment (not that he didn't deserve it -- he totally hooked Philly and then cross-checked him in the back), but the Leafs were just as disorganized. They registered -- ready for it? -- no shots during that two minutes.

Odd play followed, wherein Domi tried to check Neil and failed, as Domi is a dwarf, and ended up merely hugging Neil's knee, which left Neil with a rather bemused look on his face. He looked at the referees to see if they would do anything, but they were just as flabbergasted. Hm. Weird little fucker, that Domi . . .

Then -- TADA! Hossa scored. It was great. He totally faked out Belfour, waiting until the Cyclops was convinced he was going to pass it and moved out of position, and then nailing it past him. Unassisted. WOOHOO.

More bizarre penalties followed, including one to Philly for interfering with Tucker (or Touqué, as Rod calls him). Tucker was obviously diving. Although he did look like he was dying. His colour was rather poor. Almost green. Belfour took his first slashing penalty of the series (he already has one for unsportsmanlike -- that came in Game One), which was served by Fitzpatrick, but was offset by a DIVING penalty to Smoke? Come ON.

I liked the third period. It was very relaxed. Leafs fans were pretty much silenced, Matthew Perry was smiling, and all was right with the world. Then Sundin injured himself because he can't skate anywhere without running into the net, and the world got so much better.

And THEN, White -- that's right, Wee Tad -- scored from an innocent-looking shot. It went under review, because S(T)ucker dove AGAIN, but it stood. It didn't touch anything, and so no assists were had on the goal. NEAT. Makes up for the fact that people were going after Wee Tad all night. Did you see the twisted wound on his face? The commentators -- stupid as they always are -- first thought he was Fisher, then said he was going to look like Count Dracula before the night was through. We were confused until we realized that they MEANT he would look like Frankenstein's monster. Fools . . .

THEN PHILLY SCORED! He took a nice feed from Alfie and Bonk to get his goal. Then they cut to a shot of Spezza, with his stick. I only mention this because Jason had BRIGHT RED TAPE on his stick, instead of the usual white and black. This leads me to believe that the time I saw neon pink hockey tape, I was not delusional. I want to get me some of that for *MY* sticks. TEEHEE!

They kept showing shots of the two GMs for the teams. Both were completely deadpan. In Ferguson's case, I think it's because the excessive gel in his hair runs down his face when he gets nervous and glues his face in place. In Muckler's case, I think he's spent too much time around Jacques Martin. *sigh*

Obviously, Domi didn't read my last post. Otherwise, he would have had himself some fibre, and he wouldn't have been as purple and bitchy as he was tonight. He doesn't have an "A" or a "C" on his sweater, so how does he get away with chirping at the refs?

Observation of the evening came from Stefan: when you get checked by Smolinski, you get SMOKED. When you get checked by Hossa, you get HOSED.

HAHAHAHA!

Anyway, then Stef and Cait and I went to a bar near Cait's house. It was karaoke night, but nothing could persuade me to sing. Cait was yelling, "why won't you do it? You're so much better than any of them!" I was yelling back, "well, I already know that. YOU know that. STEFAN knows that. I could give a flying fuck if THEY know that!" She persisted, but I'm stubborn. Yep. Look, I have to be drunk, or unable to see the audience (ie, really fucking bright stage lights) in order to get me to sing. Even being called a WEINER won't do it. Even if it's by your best friend. Hm. No ninety-pound weakling is going to intimidate ME! HAH.

April 15th:

Aww . . . I just emailed my Comics and Culture prof to see if he had the marks in and to confirm a rumour I heard that he wasn't coming back next year. Turns out that I got an A+ on my comic book and that he really enjoyed my "unique insight" into the course materials (this means that I generally had no idea what was going on, so made analogies that only I understood). But alas, he's teaching at Washington State next year (lets him actually see his wife and daughter for once). HOWEVER. He will be back the year after, and I'm glad for that. He had some neat insight of his own into my grad project.

Just reading the paper this morning, and I found two interesting tidbits for you:

First, there was a faceoff in the Toronto zone last night. Right before the puck dropped, the Jumbotron showed a shot of a fan holding up a homemade sign that read, "Roger is with us." The Senators won that face off, which led to Alfie's goal. Take from that what you will.

Also, shout out to Wee Tad. Took a face full of the boards and a stick and got six stitches for it. Then turned around and took a slapshot directly into the small of his back. Then took a nasty slash from Belfour that left Eddie with two minutes, and Tad with a serious need for an ice pack. Then he scored an unassisted goal. Then he took a high stick in his mouth from Antropov, which cut open his tongue and required the doctor to freeze his mounth so he could put in another dozen stitches.

Understandably, Wee Tad was not available for comment after the game, but his teammates were, lauding the little man's determination and uncomplaining play. He may be tiny, but he's got mad skillz, yo. If a Masterton nomination were decided upon the performance in one game, he would get it for that one, hands down. Way to go.

Vitriol plus two:

FUCK YOU, Pat Quinn.

Huge article in the Citizen today about how he's still going on about the Hossa/Berard incident. Firstly, that was FOUR YEARS AGO. It was an accident. Get over yourself. Secondly, Berard's agent says that Quinn's just doing this to piss people off, and not for Berard's benefit, as he personally holds no grudge. In fact, he and Hossa hugged each other the first time he was back on the ice at the CC after his injury. Thirdly, don't you think Hossa feels bad enough about it? His game sucked for a year, and he contemplated quitting the NHL. Think what would've happened if he had done so. Fourthly, and most importantly, if you supposedly care sooooo much about Berard, why didn't you, as GM, give him a qualifying offer, leaving him instead to trawl the League as a free agent? Nothing says I love you like leaving some poor sap out in the cold, don't you think? Especially if you're convinced he's done for.

Berard signed with the Rangers, and returned to the CC on 13 October 2001, with no hard feelings, as evidenced by the embrace between the two players before the puck dropped. Now playing with the Blackhawks, he has 47 points in 58 games this season, second-best in scoring for his team. Done for? I don't think so.

Do we need to have a lesson, Pat, about how the world does not rotate with Toronto, and you, as its axis? Do I need to reiterate to you that everyone ELSE involved has gotten over this incident? We all know what you're trying to do, here. Make sure your comments get back to Hossa. Maybe make him cry, like you did four years ago. But that was then, Pat. He's all grown up now, and I think he's a little bigger, Pat. Bigger than you. In every connotation. He's bigger than your snide backbiting. He's bigger than your laughable attempts at character defamation. He's a bigger man and a bigger player, Pat, than you will ever be, and I don't think you can fully deal with that.

Get over yourself, and maybe your team will stop being so centred around YOU. There is no "I" in team, Pat. Or did you not know that?

So.

This is not really a good thing. I mean, it's not like they didn't try, it's just that CYCLOPS has this annoying habit of stopping all their pucks.

The game started well, with Hossa and a ridiculous amount of scoring chances. There were more Sens fans in the audience, which was nice to see, but they were drowned out by the end of the third.

Who made mistakes this game? REDDEN. Other players, too, like Volchenkov and Smolinski (eg, on the Sundin goal), but still a good many from REDDEN.

I missed most of the second period because of Easter dinner (wherein everyone got drunk and teased me about my stupid hockey team), but apparently, I didn't miss much. I came back to see some nice chances by Bonk and Hossa, and a few nice saves by Lalime, but none of the energy of the first period. Then at the end of a penalty to Phillips, Nieuwendyk scored. What a bunch of mistakes that were made! I mean, Volchenkov left Fitzgerald all alone in front of Lalime, and just watched him take the shot. Redden did the same thing a few seconds later. It was weird.

Lalime took a penalty for hooking or whathaveyou, and so Spezza went to the box. When he came out, he raced to the Toronto zone. The Cyclops came out to play the puck but fell. If Spezza hadn't had to disentangle himself from Belfour, he would have scored into the empty net. So much for inserting him into the lineup to make an offensive change. I think we should put Vermette back in. Or scratch Bonk, maybe?

Chara got a dumb penalty. There was a lot of diving on the Leafs' side tonight, I noticed, but the refs were letting a lotta shit go tonight, too. They didn't call a blatant high stick to Hossa, but then they didn't call a blatant high stick to McCabe(?) a few seconds later, either. At least they were consistent in their idiocy. Anyway, during the penalty kill, Phillips started a nice play that gave Hossa and Fisher ridiculous chances, but again they were stoned by that blue guy with one eye. And so much for the second period.

In the third, we were treated to the sight of Lalime skating slowly backwards, falling flat on his ass, and then ever-so-gently bump into the rear boards. Hm. This was a bad omen. The only thing good about this game was that Ottawa won over 60% of the faceoffs, which is amazing, considering that it's OTTAWA we're talking about. Seriously NICE check by Wee Todd on TUCKER, of all people. Haha, what a raccoon. He said in the paper today that his son asked him if the bad man hit him with the stick again. His reply was, "No, *I'm* usually the bad man." At least he knows he's evil. That's more than DOMI will ever have. Did you notice that Domi looked a little purple tonight? I mean, I know he has dark skin, but PURPLE? Is he getting enough fibre? That might improve his mood slightly.

Nice defensive/offensive moves by Chara, especially in shutting down Roberts on a sure goal, and nice defense/offence also by Volchenkov, who must've kicked himself in the butt during the intermission, because he had a much better third period. It looked, for a while, like Ottawa just might tie it, with several (and I mean a FUCKTON) of neat chances, but it was not to be. Sundin's goal was the result of Smolinski not being able to catch him up and shut him down, but it was ultimately Patty's fault. This should have been an easy save. Instead, it went five-hole. He's slipping down the notches on my Respect-o-Meter.

Martin pulled him with a few minutes left, and Chara raced Domi down to the empty net. Chara went down and stretched out, but missed. Luckily, however, so did Domi. All that blood rushing to his head must've made him blind, as well. Aim for the white space BETWEEN the poles, Tie, not the poles themselves!

But really, the only thing that saved the game for the Leafs was bloody Belfour. They made just as many stupid mistakes as Ottawa did. Hell, Ottawa OUTSHOT Toronto. So they had a good many chances, and I saw the Toronto defense make some ridiculous gaffes. So my boys just have to solve Belfour. They just have to put a lot of traffic in front of him, and they just have to piss him off. They were starting to do that in the third, as I saw him go off to talk to the referees, but they didn't do it enough. They know that an angry Eddie is a seive. They've just got to work on that.

So yeah, so much for THAT game. I'm really pissed off. Not so much at the game itself, but for the amount of bullshit I've had to put up with in the past few days from detractors. Especially today. Now, when I trash talk, I generally stick to the factsand the stats, unless people start name-calling. I KNOW what I'm talking about. But I've had these dinner guests in my house since five o'clock this afternoon. They've been getting progressively drunker and drunker, and they know precisely FUCK-ALL about the game. They're going for Toronto just to piss me off, and it's working, because they haven't the foggiest idea what they're talking about.

Look. I can take whatever people dish out. I'm a patient person, and it's all in good fun. You guys who trash talk in my writebacks at least have some inkling about what you're spewing, and there's some respect on all sides not to let this get personal. But when ignorant people go after other people with no other aim in mind than to propagate anger, it's not in good fun anymore. And I'm not just talking about hockey. I mean everything. ONE of said dinner guests often goes off on political rants, really hard-core right-wing bullshit that I don't agree with. Generally, I prefer not to talk politics, because I don't really know what most of it is about. But I have my ideals, and I have my leanings. I read the news. I know what's going on, who is doing what. I DO NOT APPRECIATE being informed, in a pompous and patronizing manner, that my ideas are wrong, and that I am a fool.

EXCUSE ME. Give me five to seven years, and you'll be calling me DOCTOR BELL. I am obviously not an idiot, if I am at the top of my graduating class. It's like these fucks (aka the GOOBERMONSTER) who try to tell me off about anthropology, who try to go on and on about how what I've spent the past three years studying from some of the most respected scholars in the world is bullshit. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ANTHROPOLOGY? When you've read as much as I have on the subject, then maybe we can talk. But if you want to spout an ignorant opinion about a field in which I have a little more expertise, you are only going to make me angry.

It's the same with hockey. Of my friends and acquaintances, there are very few who know more about the game than I do. If even that. Not trying to blow my own horn, but we all know it's true. I'm a freak. So the last thing I need is this same pompous prig, who knows NOTHING, ranting on about how I'm a complete idiot to like this game, this team, whatever. Is it my fault that they lost tonight? Does it make me stupid to be a Sens fan? Yeah, yeah, Leafs fans, you say yes. But we all know it's not true. Because we all KNOW what we're talking about. HE does not. He's in the Navy. He knows how to drive ships and give orders. If we were on a boat, I'd give him the helm. But if we were on the ice, I would expect him to give me the fucking puck, not rant on and on about my stupidity at being a girl and liking hockey. For the last fucking time, I am NOT a puck bunny. If you knew me at all, you would know that.

I'm sorry. I have just spewed a lot of unintellible anger about people most of you don't know, to people I don't really know myself. But you know what? I may be a student. I may only be twenty-two years old. But I am far smarter than the majority of people in my world. I DO NOT APPRECIATE being patronized and talked down because of my youth or my gender. I do not generally involve myself in major arguments when I don't know what I'm talking about (minor ones, yes, and I usually win them because I'm so damned stubborn!), but when I know my shit, I can hold my own. But it makes me so very, very angry to be shut down and dismissed because some ignorant imbecile needs to be right all the time.

There are too many of these imbeciles in positions of power right about now. I can name three at the moment: my dinner guest, my boss, George Dubya. It's fucking terrifying to know that they hold my life, my future, in their hands. Why are they in control? Because they are arrogant and ignorant enough to ignore the input of others, and talk down those who disagree with them. Their personalities are so -- what's the word? -- domineering -- that they get exactly what they want.

I was just talking to Dave after I wrote the above paragraph. I mentioned about the shits in power being shits, and he was like, "but that's how they get there." He's right. It's upsetting.

Okay, I'm done. Talking to Dave took some of the steam out of me. I can't rant in good conscience any more.

But you know what I mean. I'm assuming that most of you who read this page are around my age. I'm sure you have an inkling about what I'm saying, right? We are the future, folks. We are the ones who will be paying for care for the elderly shits when they become octagenarians. Don't they realize that? No. They're busy grooming the next shits to inherit their dirty thrones.

Okay, I'm done.

Blame Redden

Or Stefan. I had to miss puck drop to race to Lincoln Fields to retrieve him. How did he get to Lincoln Fields, you might ask? Ask. I still don't know. I have, however, commandeered the 1kg bag of mini eggs I wouldn't let him come without. MWAHAHA.

So I'm assuming most of you saw the game. We all know the outcome. Most of us were expecting this outcome. I figure they're going to trade wins, which means we'll end up in a Game Seven situation. Heart attack #1.

Anyway, in my frantic race back home, I hear on the radio that DOMI totally SMOKED my man. He got up again, but was bleeding. I don't like it when he bleeds. But if it makes him uglier, all the better. I then have less competition if no one else thinks he's sexy.

Volchenkov did NOT have a good game. He took a lot of stupid penalties. Now, EVERYONE took a lot of stupid penalties, but he took some bad ones. Both goals, however, both by Roberts, were due to stupidity on REDDEN'S part. Sarah and Stefan and I were sitting there later, talking over how good he USED to be, and we were watching another stupid Ottawa play. We were like, "I wonder where Reds was in this picture?" He was there, starting the chain of idiocy. Man, I don't understand how his +/- is so damned high! Of course, Spezza's is +22, and we all know where that got him -- BENCHED. I guess you're not allowed on the ice unless you have Chara's league-leading +a billion.

We missed most of the game because we were eating Henna's lovely food, but I popped down at one point during the second to see Mogilny get a penalty and go to the box. He yelled, "FUCKING BULLSHIT" about five times, then "It was a FUCKING DIVE!" a couple of times, then -- and this is my favourite -- "FUCKING FUCKBALL!" once, before he went back to the bullshit routine. I love lipreading hockey.

People who played well for our team: Patrick Lalime. You can't fault him on those two goals. They were all Redden's fault, because he always chooses the wrong moment to step up on the play. If he doesn't watch himself, he's going to pull a Rachunek . . . but Patty was great. He was solid after that, making some saves in situations where even Stefan almost peed himself. Brian Pothier. Not as good in the third as he was in the first, he took a penalty for hooking Domi which was so obviously a DIVE (DOMI's so good at those). But he was strong. He said yesterday that the Leafs were going after him because he was the smallest defenseman, by 20lbs, but he sure didn't look it tonight. He took the checks, but he also handed them out really well. Greg de Vries. Now I understand why we traded for him. Not only was he strong defensively, using his size and puckhandling skills to stave off the onslaught, but he had two extremely good offensive chances in the third.

Amusing moment: watching Bonzai carreen into the boards behind the net, then pinwheel his arms and kick his legs for several seconds, then fall flat on his ass. Ice is slippery, Peter. Watch your step.

Scary moments for Alison: hearing that DOMI smoked my man, then coming home to see a replay of the check (FROM BEHIND -- NO PENALTY!), and seeing Marian getting the blood wiped off his face. You're lucky he was okay, you little FUCK! Also, hearing that Philly had disappeared to the locker room and that a doctor had been called. This meant that not only was one of my favourite players out of the game, but that they would replace him with extra time for REDDEN the goob. Luckily, I saw him on the ice again in the third. *Phew!*

People I hate on the Leafs team: well, everybody. Especially DOMI tonight, even more so after he decked my boy. And then irritated Pothier. And Chara. And Fisher. And Neil. Not cool, you little troll. And TUCKER. That little fucker. I liked that he finished the game with two black eyes. WAY TO GO, MR. POTHIER!

Oh, and Earl? It took you TWO games to match the scoring we had in ONE. The only thing holding up your pitiful excuse for a team is the tenuous thread on reality held by your obnoxious fans -- you know, that huge, heavy weight on your goalie's sore widdle back. One more straw and that Camel's broke. All we have to do is piss him off, and hey -- he becomes a terrible goalie. And HE'S ALL YOU GOT, BITCH. See you on Monday. Welcome to MY town.

After the game, we took Sarah home and then moseyed our way, Brits in tow, to Tucson's, to see some people of Stefan's. Blues band called The Priorities. Really cool. There was this creepy old man there who asked young women to dance, and some men there who really shouldn't have been dancing. But that's another story.

Opening night jitters

The Alfie tshirt is on. The Hossa jersey will come later. It is Thursday afternoon, and I have no work for four straight days. All the more time to concentrate on my -- studies -- yes, that's it. Studies.

Way to build up the suspense, Jacques. Spezza and who's starting in goal are Game Time Decisions tonight. Emery is also in town, in case you were wondering. That adds more fuel the fires of suspicion. *cue creepy music now*

Two favourite quotations today:

"It's The Bogey Man, and the Bogey Man must die!" - Wayne Scanlan, referring to the way the Senators view the Leafs.

"Ooh, I HATE HIM! I just wanna -- SHAVE HIS EYEBROWS RIGHT OFF!" - Jennifer, when trying to think of the worst thing she could do to Tie Domi.

"Did you know?" fact for today:

" . . . Wade Redden once wrote a haiku poem about hockey that earned him a perfect 10 out of 10 score from his English teacher, Mary Rogers. She still has the poem, carefully handwritten in ink on lined paper. Rogers was also inveted to be Redden's special guest at a Grade 9 home economics meal of chicken cacciatore -- becuase his mom was working. 'I thought, wow, for a student to invite a teacher - that was really something,' Rogers said."

Take a moment to laugh your ass off. I did. Amusingly enough, it coincidentally ties into what the rest of the post is about.

Hockey Haikus

{I wrote these last night whilst figuring out Trillian for the first time. I've organized them into a running commentary. You might pick up a few patterns.}

Puck drops at seven,
terrified for tomorrow.
Who will win the Cup?

The Leafs suck muchly
because they are so damned old.
I hope Belfour dies.

Hockey is super
especially when they fight.
I hope Belfour dies.

The Maple Leafs are
mean and dirty players, so
I hope Belfour dies.

Eddie the Eagle
tried to bribe the Dallas cops
with a billion bucks.

Domi the midget
has no sense of humour, so
he's suing the TEAM.

Sundin is Swedish.
That is all he's got going:
Sundin is Swedish.

Sundin is UGLY.
His kids scream when he comes home.
Sundin has issues.

I watch the hockey
because there are boys in it
and they are big, too!

I am learning to
stay off my ass when skating
and marry rich boys.

Caitlin loves Havlat.
She wants to have his babies.
Big, hockey babies.

Jenny loves Redden.
She wants to have HIS babies.
Big, jockey babies.

I would like to meet
Marian Hossa and then
ravish him for hours.

Did you know that Zed
speaks five diff'rent languages?
No? Neither did I.

Alfie's the captain.
He has a crazy moptop.
Still, I support him.

Mike Fisher loves God
and all His good creations
-- except for Domi.

Chris Neil will fight you
if you ask him nicely, but
only if you're nice.

Philly is my man
as blueline "D," he's the best
and so spreadable!

Prusek is super
when he's playing really well
-- no figure skating!

Schaef's stick is curly;
everyone thinks it's weird,
but it helps him score.

A-Train is Russian,
but speaks fluent hockey-tongue
when checking players.

Ottawa Sens rule
due to their handsome good looks
and their skillful play.

I grow so weary
but still I haiku onward.
Hockey is my life . . .

Someday I will be
in the locker room with them,
but -- *sigh* -- not just yet.

Later:

WOOHOO!

Marc and Jon, you missed the most fucking amazing game ever. Damnit, I can't type. I blame it on the beer. Lots of beer.

Went to Sergeant's. There was this nutty guy who kept hitting on Caitlin, and then this nutty guy who insisted on getting a proper high-five out of me after the game (but we were both drunk, so it took us three tries). GOOD TIMES WERE HAD BY ALL!

the freakin' score!

FIRST: So it begins, and then Nieuwendyk scores at somewhere around the three-and-a-half minute mark. Not cool. BUT THEN! Smolinski, at around 5:00, takes a feed from Schaefer and Havlat, and SCORES! It's tied. Yeehaw. Serious chances after that. The only reason the score wasn't higher is because of Eddie. He seriously robbed Alfie shortly after Smoke's goal. Then Mogilny got a tripping penalty, and Bonzai went on the breakway. Broken up. But then Fisher did the hit of the night, seriously SMOKING some crappy Leaf. Then Phillips pulled his patented Chris Phillips move. I've described it before, but there's never a better time for repeating yourself than when you're drunk. What Philly the Spreadable does is he picks a player, skates ahead of him, then turns around and skates backwards in front of him for a while. Runs into him, holds on, puts on the brakes, and then, when they've stopped, PUSHES THE OTHER DUDE OVER. It's a fantastic move, and I love the man who does it. It's PRICELESS.

New paragraph for the sake of having a new paragraph. Serious check by Domi on Volchenkov. Not amused. Then the flying fish got a penalty for tripping. Domi DOVE. Asshole. Buttmunch. So whatever. Nice checks by Redden, then de Vries got a penalty for interference and McCabe scored on Patty's GLOVE SIDE, which Patty should have saved. "How the FUCK did he miss that?" was the general sentiment in the bar. We were pretty much half and half Leafs and Sens fans there. Interesting Atmosphere.

In the dying seconds, Antropov got an interference penalty and there were some serious rushes in the last ten seconds. Stressed me out.

SECOND: would Don Cherry just DIE already so Brett Hull can take over? SHEESH!

Hahah, Domi was standing in front of the Ottawa Bench, and you could see Bonk make a face at him. PRICELESS!

Johanssen (the old fart) got a penalty for hooking but in the ensuing chaos there was a call for some penalty against Smolinski? I couldn't hear the announcer, as the ambient noise was too loud, but there was a lot of discussion between the officials and the benches.

Then in the play, Roberts tried to check Bonzai, but he did the niftiest pirhouette and avoided the brunt of it. NEAT! Renberg also took a run at him, too. I guess they took offense at his labelling Domi as a hitman. It's true, though. DEAL WITH IT, you stupid FUCKS.

BUT THEN

McCabe (TWIT!) took a penalty for slashing. In addition to the Renberg penalty, there was this one. Reds scored on the man advantage, from Havlat and Alfie.

THEN

Hossa goes crazy around the net. He's in traffic: he shoots, the puck bounces off Eddie's pads. He takes his own rebound, still bouncing, and goes over Belfour's shoulder. SCOOOOOOOOORE! I screamed. I really did. But so did everybody else. I don't know who assisted on that, because I am indeed drunk, but I think Alfie had something to do with it.

Beautiful plays by Pothier to keep the puck in the zone. He had a nice game.

Philly the Spreadable got a penalty for highsticking (most of us in the bar called BULLSHIT at this point), which was dumb, because Marchment shoulda gotten one, too. There was a messy point where two of the D were up on the offensive, and there was a turnover, and only two forwards were back, but Patty made the save. THANK FUCKING GOD.

Havlat then had a nice breakaway, but Belfour made the save -- just barely (this was his thing all night: the "just-barely-so-I-have-to-cover-the-fuck-up because-my-eyes-are-so-close-together-I-can't-see" kinda save). Then a shot of Patty making a ridiculously nice save. Then a shot of him yelling. I don't know why. Muddle between Chara and Domi (BTW, there was some ass in the bar with a cap that said "DOMI" on it, and there was a BLUE car in the parking lot, with a LEAFS flag on it, where the license plate said "28 TIE." Someone obsessed, no?). Anyway, more offensive rushes by Alfie and Fish, and Belfour making the saves again -- just barely.

THIRD: THE. GREATEST. PLAY. SO. FAR. Varada tangles with someone at the blue line, then falls (on purpose), and uses his knee to knock the puck out of the zone. Hossa takes it, dodges one player, turns on the Hossajets, dodges another. Belfour comes out, saying, "enough of this, children, I'ma shut you down!" Dives. Hossa zips around Belfour, but is tripped by his stick. Falls on his stomach. SCORES INTO THE EMPTY FUCKING NET. Gets up again before he stops sliding, helmet askew. Caitlin admits that, Havlat aside, "that was pretty fucking HOT." Yes, yes, I KNOW.

The Leafs fans in the bar get ominously quieter at this point.

BEAUTIFUL play by Volchenkov, Vermette, Lalime (on a breakaway, no less), and a nice check by Chara on #18 (Kaberle?). Then Hossa was brilliant again. With one hand, he was holding off Leetch, keeping him from stealing the puck. With the other hand, he was poking the puck in and out of Leetch's legs. I want to ravish that man.

Philly then got checked, but then CHECKED the dude who got him. All was good. The dude FLEW. HAHAHA. Fish got into a scuffle with Roberts, and that could have turned out badly, but then Schaefer stepped in and fucked with Roberts a bit, and the refs had to break that up so Roberts could go to the box. HAHAH. There was a serious wraparound-from-hell around Belfour that went nowhere, but stressed us all out. Then Ponikarovsky got a penalty for high-sticking. I can't remember what happened with that.

BUT THEN

There was a breakaway of some sort. Patty came WAYYYYY out of his net, batted the puck out of the air like a baseball. Tore back to his net, but not in time. Some Leaf took a shot. Only half-way back to the net, Patty jumps. Flies through the air. Snatches the puck. Everyone was like, "where the fuck did it go?" Patty, tossing the puck nonchalantly to the refs, says "TADA!"

Alison quietly had a heart attack.

Stefan: "I name that save the 'Flying Frenchman.'"

I have officially regained all respect for Poor Patty. That was the most fucking amazing pair of saves I have ever seen, and it's not the beer talking. I love that man again.

At this point, the Sens faithful began to sing, "NananaaNA! NananaaNA! Hey, hey, hey, GOODBYE!"

TOTAL.

CHAOS.

I loved every minute of it.

Goodnight, all.

Pre-Playoff Post, Part 3

We are the champions . . .

Congrats to Canada's Women's Hockey team, beating the US 2-0 yesterday for a gold medal, YET AGAIN. WEEHOO!

I was raised by a sailor and a hippy artist . . .

{I apologize for my language in advance.}

Today started out so nicely. The sun was shining, the Goobermonster was amiable . . . then I got to school. Some fucktard cut the lock to our locker. Jon says he went in this morning and found the lock cut and nothing taken -- this is including some very expensive textbooks of Jon's. This leads me to believe that the culprit was someone from around that area, who had maybe seen me put my leather jackets in the locker, and was hoping today would be one of those days. Fucktard. I'm glad he was so fucking retarded he didn't know school was over, so I wouldn't be putting my jacket in there while I went to class . . . Fucktard.

Then I thought: you know what would really be nice right now? A huge bag of Minieggs. Nothing goes better with playoff beer than playoff Minieggs. But could I find any in Shopper's? No. Brian's? No? PharmaPlus? Hell, no. What the fuck?

Stefan is very busy these days, for those of you who noticed. He's got a fuckton of shit due tomorrow, so, unfortunately, you won't get to see my site redesign for a little while yet. I haven't prepared a playoff scoreboard for this particular design, so we'll see what I come up with.

And so it begins . . .

That's right. Puckdrop tonight signals the start of the post-season. You scared? I sure as hell am. On my way to school today, I walked past a car that had a Sens car flag on one door, and a Leafs car flag on the other. How the fuck does that work? I also saw some kid on my way home this afternoon -- he must've been around 17 or so -- wearing a jersey, red pants, and a Sens flag as a cape. He was ignoring the hecklers. Nice boy.

Any of you TO peeps see the plane trailing the "LEAFS SUCK GO SENS GO" banner flying around the CN Tower? You have the Ottawa Sun to thank for that stunt.

State of the nation . . .

You know your city wants to talk about something other than the sponsorship scandal when one of the headlines in your local paper is "Alfie Cuts Hair." Now, before you freak out, it's just the regular trim he gets every two months. Except, as Jason Spezza pointed out, he's now got highlights, which are, according to J. Spetz, "playoff blond." Ooookayyyy . . .

Also comforting to see a picture of Jacques Martin tripping over Poor Patty. Now at least we have someone to blame if everything goes awry.

There was this random little text box in the paper today. Its contents? "Did you know that Zdeno Chara speaks five different languages?" Hm. No. Even so . . . this is apropos of what, exactly?

SportBUNNY (yes, the whore) says, in her atrocious grammar, that Ottawa is going to beat Toronto in this series. Her reasoning? Our goalies are cuter. Hm. Riiight.

Lots of speculation as to the future of the roster and staff these days. If the Sens don't go deep this postseason, we could lose the coach, the assistant coach, and a million free agents, like Bonk, to name one. Pretty much the only players we have now who are totally safe are Hossa and Chara, because of their talent and their teeny paycheques, and Alfredsson, because he's there for the next eight years. So we could have a very different team next year, folks. Be prepared.

There was another article about how the Leafs are complete assholes on the ice, but off the ice are the nicest guys imaginable. The author of the article singled out Domi as being super nice to the kiddies. This is true, and I respect him for that, but I think the main reason he hangs out with children so much is that they're the only people who don't laugh at him for being diminuitive. They must be the only people with whom he can identify.

Then, of course, there's the Eagle, and the only identifying fans can do with him is picking him out in mug shots.

Pre-Playoff Post, Part 2

lesson in nutrition from the Goobermonster:

So I walk into the office today. It's empty, save for the Goobermonster, who's on the phone in his office. Then he comes out: "Jennifer is *cough* *cough* today, so she's not coming in."
Alison: "Okayyy . . ."
"You know, I think she should see a nutritionist."
"Uhhh . . ."
"Because I read this THING, where they were talking about B12, and they say they put it in BREAD. And then there's SALT, and that has IODINE in it. [patronizing tone] Not naturally, of course -- they add that in. But yeah, B12 in BREAD." [I will translate from gooberspeak into English for you: Jen has Seliac's Disease, which is a very severe allergy to gluten. As a result, she cannot eat bread. The goobermonster is convinced that this allergy is the reason for all Jen's ills.]
"You know, [goobermonster], there's B12 in orange juice."
"Oh. Well -- "
"And it naturally occurs in a lot of fruits, like bananas."
"Oh. Well I think she should see a nutritionist. She's not getting enough iodine."
"Well, it's not any of my business [with added emphasis], but I'm sure she's eating just fine, [goobermonster]."

And it went on, me shooting down his irrational arguments, him ranting along, trying to be the father to everyone. It was highly amusing. You just can't argue with him. *sigh*

the underdogs?

K, we just signed some other guy.

I would like everyone to appreciate the Pic of the Day. Heehee! How much am I in love with that goalie? In a purely platonic sense, of course, but look how ADORABLE he is!

Sorry, enough with the girlishness. It just slips out of me sometimes.

Anyway, there was this great special section in the Ottawa Citizen this morning. I'd post the link, but you have to be a seven-day subscriber to get the articles on the internet, and I know most of you don't get the Citizen at home. But I'll give you the skinny on the article. At first, I was puzzled with Prusek's eloquence, but then I realized that the sportswriter who did the interview is a Czech, so she prolly translated. Which is cool. Anyway, it's all about how he originally started as a forward when he was around five or so, and he was really fast and a good scorer (this might explain his skating ability and how he's sooooo much better than Patty at puckhandling). Anyway, one day at a game when he was six, his stick broke, and the only spare stick was a goalie paddle. Everything else is history, gentlemen.

Okay, more girlie goods here: my favourite section from the article, quoted from Jana Chytilova:

"He had resisted early attempts by his parents to help him become a strong skater. His father, Jiri, wanted him to take figure-skating lessons at age three, when coaches in the Czech Republic get their first look at young skaters. So, with his older brother, Ondrej, they went to the rink dressed in red and white tights.
'Of course, they didn't know how to skate yet because they were so young,' Jiri Prusek says.
When the coach let go of their hands and demonstrated a small twirl on the ice, a horrified Martin fell to his knees and crawled back to the boards where his mom was watching.
'I'm not going back,' he shouted, ending any throughts of a career in figure skating. But hockey, he loved. when friends would call asking where Martin was, his mother's reply was pretty much always, 'on the ice.'"

How CUTE is that? I have a mental picture of a chubby toddler in red and white tights screaming on the ice as he crawls away from a stunned coach. Heeeheee! When his English improves, I'm going to tease him about that . . .

So

The Leafs are trying to paint themselves as the underdogs in this little war. I don't know where they're getting that from. Whereas the Sens, the ACTUAL underdogs, are denying any connection to that tag. Phillips (gotta love him!), said "Does that mean we can use it as an excuse at the end of the series if we don't win? We get to say, 'Oh, well, we were the underdogs.' This is going to be a tough series, but we believe we can win. If we don't to say we'll be disappointed afterward would be an understatement." I love that man.

Best quotation from the Ottawa Sun today was from Chris Stevenson:

"If you need any other hints, the Leafs are the team with one half of its fans being suspender-wearing, tassel-loafered, Chardonnay-sipping Bay Street corporate types.
The other half are just insufferable bores.
Anyway, while all of Leaf Nation is fixated on Darcy Tucker's groin and already trying to project who their beloved Buds will face in the next round, the Senators are hunkering down in their dressing room, closing the circle.
Winger Peter Bondra, a newcomer to the Battled of Ontario, catches on quick. 'It's going to be a war, I guess.'"

Read more of Stevenson's article here.

Aaaaand that's enough for now. STAY TUNED! I have some *pretty* pictures ready for the coming weeks.

Oh, question, though: I know why the Canadiens are called the Habs, but why the Buds for the Bay Street Boors? Same sort of reasoning?

What rhymes with Tucker?

the skinny:

The Sens are playing Toronto in the first round. Cue Chopin's Funeral March, or Williams' Imperial March, depending on how you feel about this. "This is everything Ontario wanted," said the Senators' Bryan Smolinski. "It's going to be a war."

But even Ottawa fans have given up on their team. On the official website, there's a poll in the left hand bar. Usually, when other teams are involved in the survey, the results come out resoundingly for Ottawa. Today the question is, "What wil be the outcome of the Eastern Conference Quarterfinals matchup between the Ottawa Senators and the Toronto Maple Leafs?" The nearly unanimous answer? Leafs in 4. Hahah, I guess you can't mess with statistics. But I choose to ignore reality today.

Read this cute story about Alfie.

So now for some trash-talking:

First of all, who the fuck is this Earl F. dude, and how was he intelligent enough to find my page? Also, if he's sooooo much cooler than we are, why the hell does he keep coming back, even when he knows he's not welcome? Interesting question to ponder.

Now let's talk about his team:

Your captain is old and FUGLY (that means FUCKIN' UGLY). So is the rest of your team. Looking at the list of birthdates in this bloody blue roster, I don't see many who were born before 1975. Then you have three young guys: Stajan, Antropov, and Ponikarovsky. They must be old at heart to be able to handle living with these wrinklies day in and day out. These young fellas are the only ones with any energy these days, but they have no real experience. I'll talk about that later. And the players are so brittle, too! So much so that there's a page on the website devoted to the large quantity of them that are suffering in their geriatric years. You remember Nolan? That dude you got with the hopes that he would lead you to greatness? How great was it that he tried to take out Smolinski in a clean hit along the boards? How great was it that he had to be fully carried back to the locker room? And those tendons don't repair themselves as well when you're old. He's supposed to be reevaluated 19 April. My guess is that they'll tell him to RETIRE.

Pat Quinn has a euphemism for old age: he calls it "experience." Yeah, he's got Nolan, he's got Ronnie Franchise, he's got Leetch and Johanssen . . . but these are just names. Few of us remember the days when these old dudes were actually GOOD. You want energy in the locker room? Sure, get a couple vets to take care of the young guys. You don't need an entire team's worth. They prolly just sit around swapping tales that begin with, "in MY day . . ." and get Stajan to help them to the bathroom so they can pee. So much for that.

Any phrenologists in the house? Ever noticed how close together Belfour's eyes are? That would peg him as a criminal or a lowlife in any turn-of-the-century medical book. I guess that's why he fits in so well with the boors in blue: ancient, antiquated, and immoral. He's the only good thing the Leafs have, really. He's the last line of defense, and the only line of defense. Why? No defense. Just hope in your little black heart that he doesn't hurt his back, otherwise you have the Seive in net, and that can't be a good thing. Man, he's so bad, you could play with an empty net and score less goals.

Now, we here in hockey country have solid reasons to hate the Leafs:

1) Eliminated three times from the playoffs by your reprobates;
2) Drowned out by your noisy and nonsensical fans polluting the stands in OUR building;
3) Beat up, messed up, humiliated by your dirty, dirty play. Example. Last year, final game of the season. Domi gets Chara in a cheap hit along the boards. Why do I know it was cheap hit? It would have to be to enable a dwarf like Tie to knock down the Big Z. As a result, Chara missed the first few games of the playoffs with chest contusions.

So, yeah, we're a little bitter.

You, on the other hand, have no reason to be the whiny motherfuckers that you are.

Alfredsson's hit on Tucker? It was clean. This was before the refs went downhill, and there was one standing right there. Besides, it's not like he killed Tucker-the-little-fucker. The jerk is still playing. And that was nearly three years ago. Get over yourselves. He's no Gretzky. Nobody gives a fuck if he lives or dies. He's a complete twit, starting that bench brawl because he said Neil spit on him. I would have spat on him, too. GROW UP.

Alfredsson's stick joke? It was a JOKE. Have you no sense of humour? No, I suppose not. Your primitive intellects can't support something that doesn't include the monosyllables "go Leafs go." Everything else is just mindless grunting to you. Shit, even your stupid Sundin thought the whole thing was funny. Get over yourselves.

Hossa's "swing" on Berard? It. Was. An. ACCIDENT. Hossa, being possessed of a conscience (unlike, say, DOMI), felt really really bad about that, and it showed in his play. Even Berard knew it was an accident. No hard feelings, he says. Get. Over. It.

You hold grudges for stupid reasons. Why? You listen, like slavering and stupid dogs, to every soundbyte your evil excuse for a coach spews out of his ever-chewing mouth. I think he works on the gum so much and does so much talking so that his robot jaw doesn't rust and lock shut. That's right -- a robot. Who else would parrot the same tired phrases day after day?

Well, one other person would. That would be DOMI. Minime to Pat Quinn's Dr. Evil, except there's no chance this little fella would EVER be brought over to the good side. Does he ever open his mouth to do anything but complain? No. Not really. This homophobic midget has more hate molecules in him than brain cells. And boy, does it ever show.

That's all I'm going to say about that for now. We've got a few weeks yet to let this simmer. I'm not saying you're going to win. I'm not saying you're going to lose. I'm just saying that you'll never make a fan out of me. I have better things to do.

Leafs suck.

Some Pig.

off the draw:

I believe some twit called "E.F." was blathering on about beach balls? Even Hawks fans hate the Leafs.

Support the cause.

Oh yeah, and did I ever back up my statement that all Leafs fans are illiterate? No? My bad. Here you go.

But you gotta love 'em. Seriously, they're everywhere. My GRANDMOTHER is a Leaf's fan, for Pete's sake.

the score:

Okay, okay . . .

Come one, come all. Let the heckling begin. Despite the garbage-dump worthy amount of trash-talking I did these past few days, my boys never showed up for the showdown. I'm disappointed. This is what I saw:

Nice to see White and Varada on the ice. Neither figured big, but that's fine with me. Also nice to see prolonged shot of Hossa in a suit before the game. He still needs a haircut, but DAMN! Boys in suits . . .

First: Bizarre penalty mixup with Fisher, who's disappeared, so Phillips has to take the penalty. Then Fisher magically reappears -- all is good again. Pru had no chance on the Francis goal in the first (surprise! A Redden mistake), but the Sens were still playing okay at this point. Smoke had a ridiculously good chance, standing all by himself in front of a downed Belfour (his eyes are far too close together, BTW), but he couldn't scoop it high enough.

Second: Nice checks from Chara, Volchenkov, Neil, and White (on Marchment, no less). In the intermission, Don Cherry says what I have been saying all year long: when two offensive players go to the net and pass across the crease, the goalie never has a chance. So this is what Nieuwendyk did in the second. Fucker. It was a rebound that was the problem, though. That was a Bonk mistake. Bonzai had a nice shorthanded chance, but his shot was high. Then Nieuwendyk scored again. This one was all Pru's fault. We changed the channel at this point, and watched COPS for a while . . .

When we turned back, it was 4-0. Motherfucker . . . Pru was no longer in net, but we got to see some ridiculous play by Emery and the rest of the Sens. Nice shots from the point by Mr. Big-and-Tall, but then Domi totally took out Bonzai along the boards. The play wasn't stopped, like everyone was expecting it to be, so the puck carried on over to the other side, and Reichel scored. In the end, it was Smolinski who got a penalty on the play, for nudging Domi in the BACK OF THE HEAD with his elbow. Why, then, was little Tie holding on to his nose? Can you say DIVE, children? Mother. Fucker . . . Neil tries to get Domi to go, but Domi's actually well-behaved tonight, and ignores him. The refs want to get Neil, but they can't call him for being insulting. At this point, Cait's dad, Rod, says, "it's hard to find something positive about this game." There is, though. Volchenkov and Chara had very good games tonight. That's it for the positive.

Third: Mogilny got a penalty, and Hossa had a breakaway, but fell. So much for that. Then DOMI scored. Motherfucker. The cheers in the CC were deafening at this point: "GO [unintelligible roar] GO!" That's gotta get the blood flowing . . . Then Neil gets a stupid penalty for holding Domi's stick, and the audience is treated to a lesson in lip reading. It's not pretty. Caitlin says, of Neil, "It's the no teeth that makes it even funnier." This game ends badly for us. Very badly indeed.

"I should've known it would be a day full of gyps." - Sarah

Yeah. Boo. I got nothing to say in my defence. Nothing. Sorry.

off the ice:

The tart speaks. She's such a whore, but I totally back her up on the calendar idea. We've been thinking about that for months. I'm all over that plan like a fat kid on a Smartie. Still, I would rather it was me writing for the Sun and not her. Actually, I'd rather write for the Globe. More prestige. Less nudity. I don't know what that nutjob Andre Roy ever saw in her . . .

I swear the Globe and Mail is switching alliances. Sure, they're part owners of the Maple Leafs, but they haven't had one nice thing to say about them all season. Here is another example. Why be so glowing about an enemy player if you're not thinking of changing over to the dark side?

This race for top spot is intense. Going into last night's game, we were fourth, to be facing TO in the post-season. This morning, we were second, to be facing MTL. Tonight, we're third, facing Philly. This is a good thing, but I find myself semi-regretful about the change-up. I mean, anything can happen before the weekend is out (especially with the double games between NJ and BOS). So you never know. And I know that a matchup between the Battle of Ontario teams would not really be a good idea for the first round. There's a high chance (according to The Hockey News) that we could get booted out in four games. But there's also that chance -- that very small chance -- that we could be the ones doing the sweeping. Think of the vindication we would feel. Silencing Leaf Nation -- albeit temporarily. And in doing that, the boys would have so much confidence going into the other rounds that they wouldn't feel the wounds from their tussel with the Boars in Blue -- they would be so bouyed up that, hey, you never know, they might even go all the way. That would put a permanent damper on that bloody Blue Spirit. Why blue, anyway? Don't you know that maple leaves are RED? That's why I'm a Sens fan, no matter what. It's all about the red.

in other news:

A spider lives in my bathroom. In the semi-renovated no-man's-land of my bathroom, she could hide anywhere with relative safety. She chooses instead to occupy one of the holes in the gyprock between the tiles of my shower and the tiles of my bathtub. I have named her Charlotte. Sometimes I see her up near the ceiling where the mouldings have been removed, drifting back and forth between the vestigial remains of the webs of her predecessor, Claude. Charlotte is relatively new to the bathroom. I met her shortly before I found Claude's dessicated remains in the bathtub one afternoon. I prefer not to inquire as to what happened to poor Claude.

Unlike Claude, Charlotte does not spin webs -- at least, none that I have seen. She prefers instead to scavenge on the bottom of the bathtub. This bathtub is rarely used, as it is enormous, and the amount of water required to fill it is astronomical. Instead, we use it as a watering hole for various plants we have in the upstairs hallway. I guess, when we water them, the various mites, etc., that live in the pots are washed out, and it is these tiny organisms that Charlotte eats. This tells me that Charlotte is a lot smarter than poor Claude. Very few flies visit the bathroom; therefore, a web would be hopelessly ineffective.

Sometimes Charlotte comes to talk to me while I'm having a shower. This is how I met her in the first place. She is small and gray, with her legs and body only barely covering an area the size of my fingernail, but her temerity astounds me. She can casually walk across a steam covered wall with apparent ease. She never slips. I am always careful not to splash her, and, if I discover her in the bottom of the shower, I remove her before I turn on the faucet. I only hope that Chris doesn't some day wash her down the drain. I would be sad. Claude wasn't as friendly as Charlotte, and god knows what the next Bathroom Spider would be like.

Alison's Note:

So, this is it. That was the final game of the regular season. What happens now? Only Lord Stanley knows. Depending on what happens to my boys in the following months, you will continue to get the score from the voice of reason that is me. After that, however, I don't know what will happen to allyrxntz during the off-season. I'm thinking a series of short essays and stories, just to keep up my writing skills. May will mark one year since I finished my first novel, and I'm allowing myself to read it again and edit it. I'm also working on two different children's stories, and I have a few adult short stories on my mind at the moment, as well, including my attempt at a second novel. I might give you little bits about that as well, if you'd like. I might chuck in a few comics, some lyrics, whatever strikes my fancy. And you'd still get all the hockey news I can glean from my sources in the dry season. I welcome your input on this. If you don't want to hear me rant about shit that doesn't involve sticks and ice, by all means, let me know. We'll see what happens then.

I want a license plate that says 5 4 FYTNG.

off the draw:

Kind of sad, this is. But also, kind of funny.

INteresting . . .

Maybe Hasek should take some pointers . . .

Lowlights of the game. Thanks to Jon for that link.

the score:

I am not a fan of Redden. He got a stupid penalty, got himself kicked in the face, and then managed to score Philly's only goal of the night.

I am, however, a huge fan of -- that's right -- Super-fucking-K. I heard the detractors. I feel vindicated. He's a good goalie. 'Nuff said.

Actually, by the time I write this, I've totally forgotten most of the game, except that Vermette, Chara, and Bonzai scored. Handzus scored for Philly (off Redden), but everyone booed. I'm not sure I understand that particular undercurrent.

Heard an amusing commercial for Fratelli's restaurant featuring a certain Mr. Havlat: "Yes -- hockey is just a hobby." HAHAHAHA!

off the ice:

Fightin' words? Nope. The boys managed to keep the penalty minutes down to a mere 12.

To Jen's favourite tune, no less: Two words: Leafs Suck.

Well, that's news to me.

in other news:

Kinda sad now. No, not sad, just not all that happy. Thursday night was my last Comics and Culture class. We watched "Pulp Fiction" and shared our projects. We showed how much we'd learned all term. Then Thurtle made a little speech, wherein he cried a little (again, but for totally different reasons). We gave him a card, and he left us to complete glowing reviews of his performance. That was my favourite class, and now it's over. The sheer unorthodoxy of the teaching format was enough to keep me interesting. The fact that I understood not one word and my brain hurt everytime I left was the clincher. I loved it. It was over my head most of the time, but I loved it. I missed four classes this term, and I wish I hadn't. They were all for legitimate and necessary reasons (flu, hockey, Providence, catch-up), but even so . . . I don't regret missing them for the fact that I have no idea what went on those sessions and will have to catch up, but because I missed out on the LEARNING. I have never enjoyed having my mind blown so enthusiastically with such an eclectic mix of people. I will miss it. I got my comic book back. I don't know how I did on it yet, but I'm itching to fix all the mistakes I made in it.

Oh, and we're definitely moving. Not for two months, but Jen got the lowdown from our crazy French maintenance man, Robert, and he filled us in. We're pushing for the Westboro area. That would be nice . . .