OK, so I started the evening off with a trip to my local ABC store to get a fifth of my favourite schnapps. I figured I would have some fun and play a Tripp Tracy drinking game.
A Robert Burns quote about the best-laid plans of mice and men comes to mind right now, but I’ll get to that further down.
Yes, I channeled my inner redneck by drinking from a Mason jar. What can I say? The little kitty in the picture is Sun Tzu Liao–he just got done inspecting everything to make sure it was OK, because that’s what he does.
So I’m here getting started watching the game, when my large orange cat Terrence decided to come over and ask me to give him some love:
Yes Terrence, you’re a handsome cat–but Mommy wants to watch the Hurricanes game.
That game. Man. I took my first drink when Tripp called us “Toronto South”. Which is fair, but still damn wrong. Finished off the mini, and cracked the seal on the big bottle. I commenced to drinkin’ and spamming facebook with crazy updates. Steve Downie got up to his usual bitch-ass punk cheapshotting, but sadly the linesmen saved him from the furious fists of Jay Harrison. And, of course, no call. The refs are clownshoes. Tripp said that the game had reached a “pivotal point”, and I took yet another drink.
Bob Harwood had a chat with Great Leader–and I had this horrible sense of impending doom. Every time Pete Karmanos opens his yap to a mediot, bad things happen. He’s like a magnet for trouble. I mean, I’m just pointing this out here.
Then that little bastard Marty St. Louis scored in the second, just after Bob Harwood spoke to Pete Karmanos–breaking the defensive shell that the Hurricanes collapsed into just after Skinner scored. I just knew at that point that the game was about to go (in the words of Denis Leary) “STRAIGHT to fuckin’ hell!”
Facebook update: STOP SCOTING ON US, UOU LILLTE VONTZ!
And it was time to pour some more schnapps, because clearly I wasn’t misspelling things enough:
So I drank more. And the Lightning scored more. I do not think there was a correlation in either direction–it just kinda worked out that way. Somewhere along the line, the Tripp drinking game got lost in the shuffle of suck that was the Hurricanes after the score got to 3-1. I didn’t get piss-drunk, though–I got a little sleepy, and decided it was a good idea to just stop and go to bed as soon as the game was over. Really people, who’s going to think poorly of somebody who wants to keep at least some of her wits about her?
My penultimate facebook update of the night was: Yzerman just called. He told #jimrutherford “now you see that evil will always triumph, because good is dumb!” And of course, I followed it up with Mo must go, again!.
For serious–I really don’t think the problem is the players here. It’s Mo Hockey. It’s the defensive shell, which STILL sucks. It’s the 3-2 forecheck and the Musical Lines and the excusemaking, which we’ve had to put up with for years. You’d think that it would have become that much more apparent to everyone when Toronto went through the same thing with Chairman Mo behind the bench. But nooooo, Great Leader would rather keep nickel-and-diming everything while the fans get ready for yet another season of Mo-diocrity.
Mo Must Go, Again–and I’ll have another game night post after tonight’s game agin the Capitals.