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Archive for the ‘Boston Bruins’ Category

— For a variety of uninteresting reasons, Pookie arrived at work this morning with about 20 minutes to spare and a hankering to find videos about Beaks on YouTube. She found this:

When she sent the link to Schnookie this exchange ensued:

Pookie: I found a HILARIOUS video of Beaks and CoreyPerry CoreyPerry. Fighting in Juniors. At the end of a playoff game.
Schnookie: Oh my god.
Pookie: I was laughing out loud in my car. It was Muppet Baby Douchebags.
Schnookie: I’m honestly not sure who I’d think wins that. Of course, we’re ALL winners here.
Pookie: It was like what I imagine baby peacocks would be like if they were chimpanzees learning life skills by copying their parents.
Schnookie: (After watching the video) Oh my god. That’s a beauty. I love Beaks tossing his head. Like, I’m sure he thought, a wild stallion. He looked like Beaks of Chincoteague there. A little wild pony.

— For a variety of uninteresting reasons we ended up discussing Principal Skinner and Superintendent Chalmers during dinner tonight, which, of course, spiraled into an exchange of Simpsons quotes. When Schnookie pulled out the “how will anyone know it’s a Honda without the H?” scene, Pookie suddenly declared that Looch had eaten the H off all the Hondas he’s ever seen. Schnookie agreed, because Looch just loves to eat the letter H. Pookie then remarked, “That’s why that Bruins/Habs game was such a melee. Looch just sees all those little H’s on the sweaters…”

— Boomer made us all laugh really hard after dinner when she tried to read aloud the blurb about Nora Roberts’s upcoming release, Catching Fire, a romance novel about smokejumpers. Boomer launched into the first sentence of the blurb, “There’s little as thrilling as firefighting…” but said instead, “There’s little as thrilling as firefarting.” We still haven’t stopped shrieking with laughter. Being a grownup is grand.

— We got a crazy new fisheye lens for our camera today. VE Mats loves it.

Fisheye VE Mats

So does Rollie.

Fisheye Rollie

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No game diary tonight, Gentle Reader, but please do enjoy an open thread here. We’ll be around, partaking of a leisurely dinner, a glass or two of wine, and a diary-free game night.

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We are like every other hockey fan in that we spend a lot of time bitching that the officials never do anything right. We’re always ready to heap scorn and outrage on some hard-working referee after we get to review his every call in excruciating detail and from multiple angles. So we’d like to take a moment now to appreciate a call made in this evening’s Bruins-Penguins game.

We were in the middle of dinner, up to our elbows in chicken tacos, when our attention was drawn to the TV by the quivering excitement in Bob Errey’s voice. It seemed that Georges Laraque and Zdeno Chara were squaring off to fight, and Errey squealed that this was the bout he’d been looking forward to for weeks. And so the two behemoths struck ye olde boxing poses, and spent a long moment sizing each other up while the officials swept their discarded gloves aside. Then they spent another long moment waving their fists at each other in what they surely thought was a menacing manner. Then they spent another long moment bobbing and weaving in nearly imperceptible, spastic torso fakes. Then they spent another long moment waggling their eyebrows at each other as if to say, “Wanna go? Let us earn our keep by our fists like men!” Then they spent another long moment wondering if they’d turned off their stoves before leaving home. Then they spent another long moment clenching their fists into ever more imposing weapons of flesh. Then they spent another long moment whipping out the financial pages of the local newspapers and reviewing their stock portfolios. Then they spent another long moment waiting for the airplanes passing overhead so the noise would not be a distraction.

What we’re saying is that they spent ages wasting time posturing like a couple of preening, pantywaisted peacocks on parade.
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