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Archive for the ‘Project Bicycle Spoke’ Category

Dear Crunchy,

We drew Joe Sakic out of the Project Bicycle Spoke box today and we don’t know what to write. Do you have any helpful suggestions or tips for a situation like this?

Signed,
The Ookies
Stately IPB Manor, NJ

Dear Ookies,
Life can’t be all about driving around and having other people do your work for you. You have to figure this one out on your own. If I were lazy and dullardish like you two, I’d get my butt off the couch and do some research to see if Joe Sakic’s been in the news lately for any reason whatsoever, then I’d write about that as if I cared about it. I’d reflect on the decades of stolid leadership and classy play Sakic’s brought to the NHL. I’d acknowledge how hard he had worked to earn two Stanely Cup rings.

Oh, fuck it. Just say, “Joe Sakic? Her?” I mean, we’re all thinking it.

–Crunchy

Dear Crunchy,

I am helping my daughter plan her wedding, and we are not quite sure how to handle a delicate situation within my husband’s family. He is estranged from his neer-do-well brother, but my daughter and I are very good friend’s with the brother’s wife, who is a wonderful person. Is there a polite way we can invite my sister-in-law while making it clear that her husband isn’t welcome?

Gloria, Providence RI

Dear Gloria,

Yes, there is a perfectly polite way to handle this. Send your husband’s brother’s wife an invitation to the wedding, and hand-write on the invitation, “This means JUST you. Don’t bring your asshole husband with you.” Then, if she insists on bringing the dirtbag with him, make a huge scene and kick them both out of the reception.

–Crunchy

Dear Crunchy,

Do you have any easy recipes for homemade raspberry jam?

Marianne, Carson City NV

Dear Marianne,

Are you retarded? The easiest way to make raspberry jam is to open a jar of it. This isn’t rocket science, you know. Of course, you probably already know that all that jam is going to make you fat, right? Well, it’s probably too late in your case, but it’s my responsibility as an advice columnist to mention it.

–Crunchy

Dear Crunchy,

My son recently turned eight, and my husband and I promised him a pet dog, now that he is old enough to help take care of it. Is there any specific breed of dog you could recommend as a good family pet?

Arlene, Augusta ME

Dear Arlene,

For the love of God, don’t get a labradoodle. Other than that, you’re on your own. I’d say get him something with four legs and a tail. Anything less that that will be creepy, and the other kids will pick on him.

–Crunchy

Dear Crunchy,

I have been in charge of a book club for the last two years, and until recently it has been an utter delight. All of the members of the club get along well and share similar interests and temperaments. We have lively discussions about the books we read, but everyone is respectful and shares good senses of humor. However, several months ago a new member joined the club, and it’s been a terrible fit. This person is argumentative, negative, confrontational, and seems to revel in ruining everyone else’s good time. Is there a subtle way I can try to gently push this person out of the book club, so we can go back to enjoying our lives?

Paula, Buffalo NY

Dear “Paula” (or should I call you Paul”a”?),

Screw you. If you don’t like me being in your stupid book club, just tell me to my face, okay? It’s not my fault you all are simpering, fat, stupid, fat, idiotic, fat fatties. I believe that the best approach to life is honesty, and if that means hurting a few feelings along the way, then tough. If you can’t handle hearing the truth (i.e. that you’re fat), then that’s pathetic. There’s no point in letting people continue deluding themselves, because really, all that comes from sugar-coating hard truths is that people get fat.

–Crunchy

P.S. I’m not leaving the book club.

Dear Crunchy,
I work the late shift at the hospital and as a result, I sleep later into the morning than most people. Every afternoon when I go out to retrieve my morning paper, it looks as if someone’s already read it. My neighbor doesn’t subscribe to the paper, and yet he always seems up on stories covered by the paper. I don’t want to alienate my neighbor, who seems like an otherwise nice guy, but I also don’t want to be sharing my newspaper with him. What should I do?

Terrence, South Bend, IN

Dear Terrence,

It’s called a morning paper for a reason. If you can’t drag your lazy ass out of bed to get to the paper before your mooching neighbor, you don’t deserve to know what’s going on in the world. If getting up early isn’t an option because of the “sick people” in the “hospital”, you could always do what I do — work out a deal with the newspaper delivery service to rig your paper with tear gas and angry killer bees. My neighbors haven’t bothered me for years thanks to the dilligence the Greater Buffalo Newspaper Boy Brotherhood has taken in the effort to booby trap my morning paper.

–Crunchy

Dear Crunchy,

I recently considered retirement after spending twenty years in my current job. I thought I was reasonably well-liked and respected, so when I announced I wouldn’t be leaving afterall, I expected a certain amount of appreciation and well-wishes. Instead, I’m hearing people merely shrugged and said, “I didn’t realize he was leaving.” Should I be concerned?

Joe, Denver, CO

Dear EggJoe,

Her?

–Crunchy

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This is the 41st in our summer series in which we are pulling hockey cards at random from a box and then writing about them.

Today marks the opening ceremonies of the 2008 Summer Olympics, a day of intense athletic promise. On a day like today, world-class athletes the world around, and their fans, believe that all their dreams can come true. If Michael Phelps, that sprinter whose last name is Gay, that bitchy-looking star of the USA women’s gymnastics team, and — well, obviously, we don’t know who any of the Olympic athletes other than Phelps and Kobe Bryant — can believe that the gold medal has their name written on it, than why can’t this guy dream this:

Yes, that’s right. Mark Fraser, MVP. You heard it here first!

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This is the 40th in our summer series in which we are drawing hockey cards at random from a box and then writing about them.

It’s Wednesday night, and you know what that means, Gentle Reader — Pookie’s working late. It also means Project Runway is on tonight, as well as a new Mythbusters, and we’re not too proud to admit that we’re totally excited to hunker down over our late, late dinner watching them. So in order to be ready to just settle into a TV junk-food coma when Pookie gets home at 10, we have to write tonight’s post remotely. This is the actual conversation we IM’d while planning our contribution to the blogosphere:

Pookie: Do you want to draw a card now?
Schnookie: Okay. Let me drag my sorry ass across the room to the PBS dispenser.
Pookie: Thanks.
Schnookie: This is what I picked: Martin Hanzal
Pookie: David, where’d you get Hanzal? [Ed. Note: this is an extremely obscure reference to “Wet, Hot American Summer”]
Schnookie: Then Lauri Tukonen (AGAIN!)
Pookie: WTF?
Schnookie: Then Torrey Mitchell. Then Cristobal Huet.
Pookie: I don’t know who that is and I refuse to answer.
Schnookie: Then I stopped and collapsed into tears.

This dialog suggests we’ve had it with PBS and the crummy players that call the PBS box home, but in all honesty, that’s not the case. At just about this time last year, we’d reached the end of our ropes with summertime and all the stuff-that’s-not-hockey it has to offer. Sure playing Katamari for hours on end is fun, but it’s not the same as watching the Devils (perhaps because it’s fun? We digress). So when the SCF ended, and the Draft had come and gone, our outlook on summertime was grim. We were sure to find ourselves antsy for hockey mid-way through July, we were positive that watching DVDs of 80’s TV shows could only amuse us for so long, and we knew for a fact that by this time, we would be desperately bored.

Fuuuunny story…

We are loving summer. For the first time ever, we are loving summer and all of the stuff-that’s-not-hockey it has to offer! Of course, we don’t mean to imply that we love hockey any less. Au contraire, Gentle Reader, this newfound appreciation of the lazy off-season lifestyle will likely only make us love hockey more! You see, right now, we don’t have to be sitting down in front of the television, with dinner prepped, packaged as leftovers, and cleaned up, all by the 7:05 puck-drop. We can take self-indulgent post-work naps and water the garden and cook dinner and photograph said dinner and garden and stand around leisurely talking about our work days and reshingle the roof without any care in the world about 7:05. 7:05 passes with nary a thought from any of us! And yet, were we to live like this forever? Wethinks trouble that way lies. An entire life led without the structure of the hockey season would be like eating cookie dough for dinner every night. If, uh, cookie dough ever got tired. Which it doesn’t. OK, bad example! It would be like eating cookie dough for dinner but discovering after three months that the cookie dough has coconut in it.

So we will toss our Hanzal, Tukonen, Mitchell, and Huet cards to the late-darkening summer sky in a celebration of this most wonderful coconut-less time of year, while simultaneously looking forward to a return to structure, order, and hockey. Sweet, sweet hockey.

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This is the 39th in our summer series in which we are drawing hockey cards at random from a box and then writing about them.

Dear Diary,

Still no word from team management about changing the team’s name. I don’t understand why they don’t like the name Boston Bars. It means the same thing as Boston Bruins, but is badass and cooler. Davy Crockett would know what I’m talkin’ about. Sometimes I think this organization is run by a bunch of morons.

I was thinkin’ today, and I’ve decided there are two things in life I really love. One is killin’ bars. I like killin’ bars so much that I got a new helmet for next year, one that has an actual stuffed, mounted bar head on it. It’ll be like the design of my old mask, with the angry bar head snarling around the part where my eyes look out, only that’ll be real bar. And who cares that it’ll look like my mask is representin’ my own team’s mascot after it’s been shot, gutted and skinned? It’s gonna be badass and cool, and I will have killed it myself. Because that shows off how badass and cool I am.

The other thing I like is Dainius Zubrus. Because he shows off how badass and cool I am, too. Remember that time, Diary, when he scored against me in Newark? (Something that wouldn’t have happened if I had a real bar on my mask — the fake cartoon one that’s on there now just isn’t scary enough.) And remember how I was all pissy and rantin’ and fussin’ and stompin’ off into the corner to cry about it? Only no one was really payin’ attention before I had my breakdown, so no one bothered to signal that Zubrus had scored? And then the review showed that the only place in the entire universe that the puck could have been was inside the net, but my badass bar-themed pads and the padding around the base of the net obscured it? And the on-ice officials were too chickenshit to make a call on their own, so they relied on the War Room to decide if it was a goal? And the War Room said it wasn’t? Remember that? Because I think about it every day. And I laugh and laugh. Maybe I should shoot, gut and skin Zubrus, and mount his head on my mask for next year. So shooters around the NHL can see what a totally cool badass I am.

Love,
Tim

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This is the 38th in our summer series in which we are drawing hockey cards at random from a box and then writing about them.

We’re not going to lie to you — we were really hoping to get through the summer without see any Rangers (Jagr doesn’t count), and yet here’s Michal Rozsival leaping out of the PBS box to ruin our blissful Blueshirt-free existence. In honor of this clank!-ful event, here’s a list of 10 more things we don’t want to see between now and the start of the hockey season.

1. We’d rather not see the Olympics turn out to be completely devoid of jaw-dropping displays of athletic acheivment, tear-jerking stories of authentic heart-warming triumph over adversity, and extraordinary examples of underdoggery and greatness. OK, fine, all we really care about is that the swimmers are hot. We don’t want to see un-hot swimmers.

2. We don’t want to see Bobby Holik. There will be plenty of that once the season starts.

3. If a toolish contestant wins American Gladiators we’re going to be irrationally upset thanks to the lack of acceptable “real” sports during the summer months.

4. A summer devoid of incessant news coverage of Mats Sundin: Free Agent At Large would be nice. Oh, crap.

5. We would like to get through this summer without buying a single grocery store tomato. Prognosis: unknown. Thanks, hailstorm. Sheesh!

6. We would like to get through this summer without seeing a single movie in the movie theater. Prognosis: excellent.

7. We would like to get through this summer without seeing a single television series created after 1986. Prognosis: even better!

8. It would be delightful if we could go until the hockey season starts without losing a limb in a lawnmower-related mishap. Not as nice as going a summer without seeing anything Rangers-related, but still nice.

9. If our liquor cabinet never runs dry this summer, we’ll be very happy campers.

10. A full four months of not having to answer to 7:00 start times would be heavenly.

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This is the 37th in our summer series in which we are pulling hockey cards at random from a box and writing about them.

When we drew this card, our first impulse was to laugh uproariously at the two people seated behind Fernandez.

They’re not even pretending to watch the action on the ice! But then our second impulse kicked in. The one rooted in the first years of our lives as season ticket holders to the Devils — the one that remembers what is was like to watch a Jacques Lemaire team night in and night out. We know from bitter, bitter experience that one stops pretending to watch the action on the ice very early on. Oh, Not-Watching-Grandpa and Not-Watching-Grandson, we feel your pain. Oh yes, we do. And for that reason, this PBS post is for you.

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This is the 36th in our summer series in which we are pulling hockey cards at random from a box and then writing about them.

SNORE! What a boring checklist! Here’s a list of things we’d much rather be getting out of the PBS Dispenser than that collection of humdrum crap:

1. A card that features photographic evidence of which Devils can swim.
2. A card honoring us, commemorating all the good we’ve done as bloggers for the NHL.
3. A card featuring the figurative “ball of tape” that so many fans claim would be better than their team’s most egregiously underachieving player; this card could have a cool collectible snippet of tape embedded in it if the card makers wanted to be really awesome.
4. A John MacLean Assistant Coach card. So we can run it over and set it on fire and stuff like that.
5. Cards for our summer heroes, MacGyver and Jessica Fletcher.
6. A chocolate chip cookie. Wouldn’t that be nice?
7. A dozen chocolate chip cookies. Wouldn’t that be nicer?
8. A time machine that will take us to the start of the season.
9. A Boxworthy card.
10. A card that comes with a blog post attached to it.

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