A Night On The Town (crosspost)

Wednesday night in my livin' room watchin' a game--crossposted from my blawg. Warning: contains some 'colourful' language.

So let's recap:

Wednesday morning, everyone in the Caniac Nation was all up in teh dramaz about the Caps pwning face on us. I slapped around some dumbass who got all up in the whiny because I said that Alex Ovechkin can be a dirty bastard--and yes, he can be--and then I took a shot at people that were claiming that there's some kind of Sooper Sekrit Conspeerohsee going on to get the Caps into the playoffs at our expense.

Wednesday afternoon, EJ Hradek decided to clown on my coach's meltdown behind the bench in DC. And, admittedly, it was funny--though really my coach is far less nebbishy-lookin' than EJ is (not, yanno, that there's anything wrong with being nebbishy-lookin'. Just saying.)--but I knew that the 'Canes were going to get it together against the Lightning that night...and my favourite Spicy Italian, John Tortorella, gave us a lil' hep by putting Mike Smith in goal.

Mmmm.....Spicy Italian. *ahem* sorry.

Then a friend of mine leaves me a ticket at Will Call--and my car is out of gas. Hubby was at work, clear out on the other side of the Containment Area for Relocated Yanquis. So I was stuck in my "AQ has no cash and can't call a cab to take her to le jeu" living room for the night, which didn't make me very happy--but what can you do, right?

So I settle in to watch the game--and 32 seconds in Eric freakin' Staal shows why he is The Chosen One by scoring on a breakaway while practically wearing Vinny Lecavalier. I knew then that it was going to be a fun night. Merlin decided, at that point, to decamp to the foyer for some odd reason. The rest of the cats (including Jasmine the Feline Mute Button), however, parked their furry butts on the couch and watched the game with me. Martin St. Louis scored a few minutes later while Keith "Tater" Aucoin was in the box for tripping, and I bellowed "STOP SCORING ON US, YOU LITTLE VONTZ!"

Jasmine, tiny little dainty kitty that she is, then jumped on my chest and nipped my chin to let me know that I was too loud and needed to be quiet.

Then Chad LaRose, the Chuck Norris of Hockey, scored at 16:10 to put the 'Canes up 2-1--and on to intermission we went!

Now, the second period was kinda surreal. Rosie scored again (and there was much rejoicing. YAAAAAY!), Andreas Karlsson hooked Trevor Letowski in the wedding vegetables, and then a few minutes later there was a knock at my door. I opened it, and there was Scott Walker. "Hey there, Your Infernal Majesty," he said, "Mind if I come in for a moment?" How could I refuse one of my tribesmen, right?

I let Remo in, and--after paying the Pet Tax to Merlin--he ripped off this shot from atop my coffee table while Mike Smith was off at the Cook-Out on Western Boulevard to get a huge Cheddar-Style with double extra onion and a side of hushpuppies. "Thanks," Walks said merrily before reaching down to pick Merlin up. "C'mon little buddy, we're going to need you later." Then he left, and I went back to watching the game just in time to see Jeff Halpern attempt to use Ryan Bayda as a missile weapon against his own goalie...and then try to re-enact a scene from "OZ" while poor Mike Smith is dopeslapping both of them with his blocker and hollering "GET OFF ME WITH THAT SHIT MANG, THAT AIN'T MAH SCENE."

Then the phone rang. It was my husband. "As your lawyer," he said to me, "I advise you to keep the noise level down so that we don't get tossed from our apartment." And Jasmine nipped my chin again, punctuating it this time with a meow. And the neighbours upstairs started trying to loudly remind the world that they like to engage in conjugal relations from time to time. Point taken, I turned down the TV in the living room and ChuckandtheletterK in the computer room.

Tuomo Ruutu went off for hooking, and I wondered 'How long can we maintain?'* The answer was "as long as we have to".

Vinny Lecavalier got dinged for a double-minor at the end of the period after he got called for interference and then decided to tell the refs what he thought of their parentage, and I knew that it was about to get surreal. More surreal. Something like that.

I was not, I assure you, disappointed.

Bishop Ruutu canonized a shot from the faceoff circle that beat Smith like a rented mule, Halp thought he was a Cap again and managed to score, and then the Chuck Norris of Hockey, Chad fuckin' LaRose, got his hat trick.

It was at that point that I saw Merlin firmly ensconced on the top of John Tortorella's head, and I decided that fatigue had definitely gotten the better of me and that it was time to go to bed. I walked over to the TV set and turned it on to a dead channel-white noise at maximum decibels, a fine sound for sleeping, a powerful continuous hiss to drown out everything strange*. Then I went into the bedroom and collapsed into bed surrounded by four furballs and seeing my team as monster reincarnations of Horatio Alger: men on the move and just sick enough to be confident*.

(This post inspired by (and the asterisked lines cribbed from) Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Good night Hunter S. Thompson, wherever you are.)

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HLOG Invasion of the Frozen Showzen

This evening (Monday, March 24, 2008) from 9 -10 pm EDT, a couple of HLOGgers, myself included will be joining Geeves on his Podcast, The Frozen Showzen, where we'll be discussing all things NHL. So, if you feel like listening to our voices won't be too weird, come on over and have a listen! I believe the shows are also archived if you can't tune in live. Joining me on the show will also be Monique, The Acid Queen and Cat. Should be a good one!

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Don't say I never warned you.

So last night, I was watching Leafs-Sens in fits and starts...and had to check the colour balance on my TV to make sure it was working. Then I checked the VCR to see if it was running with one of my old game-day tapes in it.

Nope, VCR still busted and colour balance in top form.

So why was I seeing the pre-2004 Hurricanes on the ice in blue jerseys?

Oh wait, that's right--Chairman Mo.

Now see, I had warned folks when the Leafs hired the guy to coach the Marlies. "Say hello to musical line changes and rookies getting consigned to fester on the fourth line," I said.

And I got flamed for it, because the guy actually seemed to have taken a few lessons from his time coaching the Whalercanes.

"Yeah," I said. "We'll see how long this lasts once Quinn goes byebye and the Great Helmsman gets called up to The Show."

So what did I see last night? Attempted long-bomb passes that went stick-to-skate (or stick-to-Sen), players being slow to the puck, no forecheck, lots of cycling, and a collapsing defense that hung Toskala out to dry more often than I scoop out the catbox (for the record, I scoop 3x/day). Gee, wonder where I've seen that before?

So when you get all ill over Mo and bitch about the Hurricanes for gifting you with him (and that poor besotten bastard Jeff O'Neill), just remember:



"I warned you!"

Just sayin', of course.

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Superstition, Fear, and Jealousy.

Man...

Up until last season, I was the QUEEN of Superstitions. Everything from the Long March and A Meltdown Each Round to the Ritual of the Bitter Bean and Every Game Day And TWICE On Sunday was my schtik. It was my own little brand of hedge-witchery, designed to bring a little extra luck to my team, and it made me a complete and total basket-case. If I missed even one thing and the team lost, oh MAN was I in a funk.

Now? I'm pretty much down to not partaking of adult beverages on game days and the Long March. Well OK, and there's a CD I have in my car that I listen to during the season--and it's all I listen to--and if I can't park in the free parking at the Fairgrounds, I'll drop the $8 and park in the pay lots. But that's about it.

Well OK, I also refuse to support businesses that consort with The Enemy. But that's just done out of team loyalty than anything else, really. I also try not to get into fights or arguments on a game day, because that's always soured the mojo--Wings fans, you're welcome for that 3OT in 2002. Bastards--and there are certain sections at the RBC that I just won't sit in because it just doesn't feel right (one of them is 328--which is very sad for me, because 328 is the Carnival Fun Section).

But that's it! No really, I promise! And now that I've talked about them, none of those things will work anymore.

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Since I don't see that anyone else has postered it:

Ron Francis named Hurricanes' Assistant GM.

*golfclap*

I have great respect for Ron Francis, and I think he'll do well in this job. I also get a strange vibe from this appointment, something that I just can't put my finger on...

*ahem* Anyway.

The next thing I'd like to see the Hurricanes do is stop the nickel-and-diming and get a Team President that actually knows business. An MBA of some flavour would be nice. Just sayin'.

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Advice for the playoff-bound (yet another x-post)

These are some thoughts I wanted to jot down in the wake of Tom Luongo’s post over at the AOL Fanhouse.

IF–IF your team wins the Cup (and it is always an IF until the moment the Commish puts the trophy into your captain’s hands):

Cherish that moment. Treat it like it’s purest gold, given to you by whatever powers or forces you worship, and keep it close to your heart forever because you don’t know if or when it will happen again.

Revere the Cup. It’s a holy artifact, sanctified with the blood and sweat and tears of hundreds of players from all over the world, and it deserves your respect.

Win with class, lose with dignity–that lesson was taught to me by (of all people) a Sabres fan. Sure, it feels good to dance on the graves of your perceived enemies and wave your e-peen around for all to see–but all it does is make you look like a classless piece of garbage. The gods favor the worthy, and if your team isn’t judged worthy, then you shake your opponent’s hand, congratulate him on a series well-played, and look ahead to next season. If your team is judged worthy, then you shake your opponent’s hand, congratulate him on a series well-played, and look ahead to the next round or the next season. There’s plenty of crying in hockey, but no whining.

It’s true. You all know that it’s true.

Luck to you all (even the Sabres fans), and I look forward to sparring with you all again next season.

Even the Sabres fans.

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Life comes at you fast (x-posted from my own blog)

(poster note: I've been offline for about a week or so thanks to the death of my old motherboard--thus the crosspost rather than me giving away what little magic I have left after last season by telling you what all of my superstitions are. ;))

Let’s recap:

‘Canes got pwnt by the Mo-ple Leafs, and then got pwnt by the LAST PLACE Flyers. They’re now in a position where they have to go 4-1 in their last five games to make the playoffs (which I’m sure has some martyr-complexed mental defectives in a certain northern state salivating*), and a handful of noobs are screaming for Lavi to be fired because “he isn’t any good”–but you know what?

I don’t care.

You heard me:

I.

Don’t.

Care.

This team has their future in their own hands–they always have. Hakuna Matata, folks. That’s been my mantra all season, and it’ll still be my mantra. So what if they got pwnt? I don’t control the Hurricanes’ destiny, they do. Sure, I’m not happy about those losses. But so what? I’m not the one out there on the ice. I’m not the one getting frustrated at missing chances and looking like I’m skating through mud and giving the impression that I’m resting on my laurels. The ‘Canes are the ones who have to live with the shame of getting taken out to the woodshed by their former coach and the worst team in the League, not me.

If the ‘Canes deserve to make the playoffs, they’ll make the playoffs. If not, then they’ll have time to rest up for next season. No excuses. No giving a tinker’s damn what fans of other teams think. And certainly no regrets, because what needs to happen will happen regardless of what all of us armchair coaches think.

Go Canes.

*:not referring to any of the other ladies here. Calm down.

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Tell me that you love me and that we belong together

What is your favorite thing about the NHL:

The Cup. The oldest trophy in professional sports, won with no less than 98 and no more than 110 games' worth of blood, sweat, and tears. You cannot touch that thing after your team has won it, can't dip your hand in the pool of history and emotion that the thing is bathed in, and come away unaffected by it in some way. Anyone who says otherwise is either lying or dead inside.

What is your least favorite thing about the NHL:

The brass and their complete lack of vision (not to mention the lack of any wherwithal to carry out any kind of vision). Forget about expansion and all you northerners' desire to contract every team south of Chicago for a moment. The NHL has historically been totally and completely unable (or unwilling) to think long-term--truly long-term. Short-sighted garbage like the Instigator Rule gets rammed through with no thought given to what kind of effect it will have on the League as a whole, bad TV deals are followed by even worse TV deals, and marketing? What is this "marketing" of which you speak?

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Friday Five

Wow, all of a sudden I feel like I'm posting to my livejournal again. Nyuk nyuk nyuk.

*ahem*

What's the last thing you bought yourself, just for fun?

A pre-order copy of World of Warcraft: Burning Crusade

How many keys do you carry?

Car keys (two sets), house keys, mailbox key, key to Marsellus Wallace's briefcase.....

A lot.

If you had to sell your soul for one thing, what would it be?

What do I look like, a cheap whore?

What is one talent or skill you don't have but always wanted?

The ability to skate without freaking out over the sudden forward motion would be nice.

If you could have the world's largest collection of one thing, what would it be?

Signed hockey cards

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Hockeyin' it down on the Heathen tip, y'all.

Hail, I'm the AcidQueen and I'm Asatru.

(Hail, AQ!)

Now that we've established that I'm probably the only follower of a "non-mainstream" religion in these parts (and that I'd appreciate it if you'll just keep that bowl of hot coals away from my midsection*)....

I don't think that comparing Benjamin Rubin to Patrick O'Sullivan (as Jordi did) is really a fair comparison. From what I understand and have been told by various people, teams passed O'Sullivan over specifically because they didn't want to deal with the kid's father (who has demonstrated through repeated attempts to contact his son that he's more than willing to violate the 29374 restraining orders that are outstanding on him). It wasn't the kid himself, it was the baggage that lives about an hour away from me in Winston-Salem (which, by the way, is why the Hurricanes passed on him--they liked his skills, but neither they nor the Wake County Sheriff's Department could guarantee the kid's safety).

This isn't the same thing. It's kinda-sorta-maybe-not-really close, but not the same thing.

I can see teams wanting to take a chance on Benjamin Rubin if he's got teh leet skillz--but his career's going to be limited because of his strict adherence to his faith, which I'm sure he understands.

I think he also understands that at the heart of it all, this isn't a religious issue; it's an issue of practicality. If a rabbi will give Benjamin Rubin a dispensation of some sort so that he can play or practice on the Sabbath, great--the sky is the limit for him and I am sure that he will become a wonderful example for young Jewish kids everywhere.

But if not? I think that he's pretty much going to be a fourth-liner for his entire career--which is unfortunate, but also the only in which he'll be able to even have an NHL career.

Just my two cents.

*: Historical points to anyone who got that.

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The All-Star Game is a joke.

It's always been a joke, it will always be a joke.

I have cast maybe ten ballots, all of them containing my token write-ins for Marek Malik. I've never been a huge fan of the All-Star Game (or any All-Star Game, for that matter), because it's simply an exercise in whose fans are better at ballot-stuffing, nothing more--at best, it's a glorified C-league game. No checking, no physicality, nothing that makes hockey great.

What's the fun in that?

Whatever--I'll be working that weekend, but I'm not going to sweat it cos I know that as usual I won't be missing a damn thing.

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If I were the Hurricanes' DJ...

...these 12 songs are what I'd have in the locker-room rotation (in no particular order). I'm ignoring the obvious choices (anything by Queen, the Scorpions, and "The Rising") in favor of stuff that I actually had on my playoff playlist. I even included some lyric snippets. And yes, there's a common theme.

1) The Drowning Pool, "Bodies" -- Why not? It certainly gets me into a frenzy. This is a great pre-game song. Gets the blood pumping. Let the bodies hit the floor / Let the bodies hit the floor

2) Nine Inch Nails, "We're In This Together" -- Because it's not about me, it's about the guy in front of me. You and me / We're in this together now / None of them can stop us now / We will make it through somehow

3) Rammstein, "Ich Will" -- The adoration of the crowd at the loudest arena in the NHL (the RBC) is a good thing. Ich will eure Stimmen hören / Ich will die Ruhe stören...Ich will eure Phantasie / Ich will eure Energie / Ich will eure Hände sehen / Ich will in Beifall untergehen!

4) Alice in Chains, "No Excuses" -- The 'Canes aren't into excusemaking anymore, not like they were when Chairman Mo was in power. Yeah, it's fine / We'll walk down the line / Leave our rain, a cold / Trade for warm sunshine / You my friend / I will defend

5) Ben Folds, "Still Fighting It" -- Because no matter what, the Hurricanes and their fans are still having to fight the stereotypes and truckloads of nonsense. Just because my team won a title, that doesn't mean I have to STFU and let ign'ant wahoos continue to hurl slings and arrows with impunity. it's so weird to be back here / let me tell you what / the years go on and / we're still fighting it

6) Tool, "10,000 Days (Wings Pt. 2)" -- More like 9,394 days, but still. The song oozes with defiance and "damn you it's been long enough now GIVE ME WHAT I HAVE COME FOR". I played this whole album repeatedly during the Great Cup Run of 2006. Ten thousand days in the fire is long enough, you're going home. / You're the only one who can hold your head up high / Shake your fists at the gates saying: / "I have come home now! / Fetch me the spirit, the son, and the father. / Tell them their pillar of faith has ascended. / It's time now! / My time now! / Give me my, give me my wings!"

7) Led Zepplin, "The Immigrant Song" -- Have you actually listened to the lyrics? That'd be the 'Canes, even though really only one of their players (Niclas Wallin) comes from the land of the ice and snow, and the midnight sun where the hot springs flow. The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands, / To fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I am coming! / On we sweep with threshing oar, Our only goal will be the western shore.

8) Right Said Fred, "I'm Too Sexy" -- I put this in here for one reason: I like it. It's a fun little silly-ass party song. And I’m too sexy for your party / Too sexy for your party / No way I’m disco dancing

9) Seven Nations, "Our Day Will Come" -- The lyrics don't really reflect it, but ever since 2002 whenever I play this song I think of the Hurricanes. And if your heart / still holds on to the pain / You can always return now / But there's no need to give in to the strain / You've just got to believe / Our day will come / To break these chains and fly away

10) Rush, "Bravado" -- I played this song a lot during the 2002 Finals run, and the lyrics really resonated with me. They still do. They just fit so well then, and they still fit now (though the song is really more about a losing effort rather than a victory). If we burn our wings / Flying too close to the sun / If the moment of glory / Is over before it's begun / If the dream is won / Though everything is lost / We will pay the price, / But we will not count the cost

11) Cake, "I Will Survive" -- This song is so wonderfully defiant, whether it's Gloria Gaynor or John McCrea singing it. And really? I think the guys would have an easier time singing along to this version than to the original, since it's more in their range. It took all the strength I had just not to fall apart, / I’m tryin' hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart / And I spent oh so many nights just feelin' sorry for myself, / I used to cry / But now I hold my head up high.

12) Offspring, "Defy You" -- This song was more applicable in 2002, but it's just as good now. Again, another nicely defiant little ditty. You may push me around / But you cannot win / You may throw me down / But I'll rise again / The more you say / The more I defy you / So get out of my face

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Snarkin' it down on the Caniac tip, y'all.

So Heather said (in her very good post about the Ovechkin/Briere incident):

I think my team was crippled by injuries during last season's playoffs and I think that worked to the advantage of the Hurricanes

And my first thought was "Gee, if you change a couple words around, you could sign that "Sincerely, Philadelphia". Pardon me while I roll my eyes."

So yeah, it's really snarktastic and bitchy for me to say that--but I'm really sick and tired of hearing eleventy billion variations on "If our team had been 100% healthy we'd have pwnzt you!!!1" from J. Random Fan (and his good buddy Captain Bitterman) whenever the 2006 playoffs are discussed--if it's not the wanker that comes into my store all the time (usually with his idiot friend) and engages in tons of Sabres'-related dickwaving over their regular-season standings, it's some unhinged Habs fan on a message board screeching about Justin Williams like he's some kind of serial axe murderer or a cerebrally-challenged Devils fan bleating "Three Cups, bitch! Three Cups, bitch!" on a blog or XM or wherever.

It all sounds the same to me: Wah wah, my team deserved to win because they're from north of the Mason-Dixon line, boo hoo. It's like the team's geographical location is supposed to determine that team's "worthiness" to advance in the playoffs (or, in the minds of some, to even exist in the first place), and that just galls me. To me it's disgusting. It's bad form, dirty pool, sore-loserdom, a bad reflection on your team. And dealing with a constant barrage of this garbage for years is why I'm so defensive about my team.

Injuries or no injuries, the bottom line is: We won. You lost. If the situations had been reversed, y'all would be saying the same thing and y'all know it.

Just sayin'.

*puts the 20-grit sandpaper away*

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Heeeeeere's Stormy!

Yes, my team's mascot is a pig.

I get asked all the time: "AQ, why the Hel is your team's mascot a pig?"

(Get some coffee and a snack, this could take a while)

Way back in 97 or so, when Uncle Pete was talking about moving the Hartford Whalers to the Carolinas (after being told to step off by Columbus and electing not to bother with Hampton Roads, VA), he had to come up with a name for the team. The marketing genii that inhabited his brain trust at the time had, according to lore, come up with several names for the team--one of which was the "Carolina Ice Hogs".

Wow, if that name doesn't scream "REDNECK", I don't know what does.

Cut forward to the move--the name decided on was "Hurricanes" (which pleased me, because I was named for one). Now they needed to find a mascot. At the time, the leading frontrunner for the naming rights to the Raleigh Entertainment and Sports Arena was Murphy Farms (which is the leading pork producer in the state) because Wendell Murphy is an alumnus of NC State University and had already pledged up about $20Million or so for the naming rights.

I will forever owe a debt of gratitude to State for persuading Wendell Murphy to give his cash to the university directly instead of the Centennial Authority (who owns the building), thus sparing the Caniac Nation the humiliation of having its centre of power assume the appellation "The Hog Trough".

State repaid Wendell by naming the new training center for the NCSU Football team the Wendell H. Murphy Center (which you can see in this very impressive photo here--and it's equally nice-looking in person), and the Centennial Authority were free to pursue other naming rights options.

But there was still the issue of a mascot--which, it was decided, would be a pig in tribute to the biggest legal cash industry in the state:



That's the O.G. Stormy, which actually did look like a pig and was our mascot for the first five seasons in the Carolinas. Stormy's career didn't get off to the greatest of starts, as the first cat to wear the suit damn near kicked it before Greensboro Game One when he was overcome by Zamboni fumes. Ouch. But he recovered, and it was all good.

For the start of the 01-02 season, it was decided that there'd be a new look for Stormy--which led to this:


"Can't sleep, pig will eat me."

Crack much? Anyway.

Stormy's big thing is launching t-shirts into the crowd with the help of the Storm Squad, jumping through a ring of fire on a 4-wheel ATV, sliding head-first down banisters (and I swear I saw him run right into an RBC Center securebot once, which was quite funny), occasionally zip-lining down to the ice from the rafters, clobbering other mascots (especially Thunderbug, Slapshot, and any other SE Division mascot) and the occasional asshat, and toolin' around in his phat ride:


Unpimp THIS, V-dub!

He's so popular with a lot of the fans (especially the kids) that the 'Canes even made a Stormy retrospective for last season:



Man that pig gets around.

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Hel's Lacy Undies, it's a Caniac!

1. Where you're from, what you do - basic things.

Born in SoCal. Grew up in North Dakota. North Carolinian by choice. I work in Retail Hel...at least until I go back to school (hopefully in January).

2. Your team and why you like them

My team's the Carolina Hurricanes, because somebody's gotta love 'em. Actually it's more complex than that--when they first came down here from Hartford, I originally supported them as a "support the local team" sort of thing. But the more I watched them and the more I got to know the guys on the team, the more I got to love the team. I'd tell the whole big long story about how I morphed into a Whalercaniac, but you would all get bored and just roll your eyes at me.

3. Your least favourite team and why?

The freakin' Red Wings. They're a bunch of punks, and their fans (with a few exceptions) aren't much better.

4. Your favourite player of all time & now?

All time - Kevin Lowe.
Now - Marek Malik.

5. If you had to punch one hockey player or member of the NHL organisation, who and why?

Greg Campbell, because he's a douche and his dad's a clownshoe.

6. What you'll be looking forward in this group blog.

Talking hockey with other women who appreciate the sport. I also look forward to being able to talk about the sport without being dismissed as a puckbunny--which, sadly, I have to deal with on a regular basis. Apparently my having ovaries and a uterus somehow means that I have no credibility whatsoever, to some of the idiot males that I've pwned with my superior knowledge of the game.

Occasional appreciation of the beef will be nice, too.

7. What you don't like in general?

Assy fans. Come, clap for your team, be polite, and then get the Hel out my house. Don't get in my face or act like a douche, or we'll have a problem. Also on the list are Los Yanquis de New York, xenophobes, liver, headcheese, and the Dallas freaking Cowboys. Hail to the Redskins.

8. What role do female fans play in keeping the game alive?

We give birth to future generations of fans in more ways than one. I mean, it's one thing to a kid to go to games with dad. But going with mom and dad makes a bigger impression, from what I've seen. We're better able to see the truth in things than most guys are, too--I can ask a female fan a question about a penalty and get a more unbiased answer than I will from a male fan.

9. What role do female fans play in picking heroes for the community?

As others have touched on before: it's the maternal thing--and behind every great player there was a Mom who supported him. Female fans tend to be more nurturing and willing to look at a player for who he is, not what he does on the ice.

10. Hockey just isn't the same without...

...a nice bench-clearer once a season. Face it, not all the action in Valhalla was confined to the battlefield!

11. If you were on a deserted island, which player would you pick to stay with you?

Darren McCarty and one of his 5438972342 disco thrones, plus a talkbox and a karaoke machine. Whaaaaat? Stop looking at me like that!

OKOK, really I'd take Guillaume Latendresse--because...damn. (There, that's my one puckbunny moment.)

12. Crosby, Ovechkin or Phaneuf (hey he tried!)?

Ovechkin, with honorable mention to Phaneuf (because I am all about the defensemen).

13. The player you'd like to take for:

A grand night out - Rod Brind'amour, because we would look smashing together and he looks damn good in a tux.
A movie - Josef Vasicek, because he'd be fun to discuss the movie with afterward.
A boring event - Ray Whitney, because that little japester would liven that gig up in a big hurry!

14. If you could make your own team, regardless of whatever players, what would it be called and where will it be/how would it be like?

I would call it the Screaming Heathens. Our logo would be a big flaming hammer, we'd play in North Dakota, and before every game the players will gather at center ice and bang their sticks on the ice while roaring battle cries at the other team, and our team's theme song would be "The Immigrant Song" by Led Zepplin, because that would just kick so much ass.

...no? Well okay then.

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