It was looking like Boston. Seriously.
Last minute collapse by the New Jersey Devils.
We didn't watch the game, but we were eying the boxscore on NHL.com and when Carolina tied it we were like "shit, OT." Pillow Lips probably asked Uncle Dad how much his alimony was and waited until he said, "Excuse me, you little punk, but my alimony is none of your--"
Canes win 4-3 in regulation.
Like, seriously. What a terrible performance. What a disaster.
We'd rather have Boston. That would have meant that Zoë could watch NESN and Jack Edwards for a week. And try to find Max Talbot coming out of the Gypsy Bar, housed beneath the many classrooms of Emerson College.
Fucking Godzilla Boy. We can't trust you to do shit. We are so mad at you right now.
And Marty? What the fucking fuck?
Oh, not to mention. . .
BRING IT SLUTS
Round 2 just means another team's season for us to destroy.
KEEP SENDING US BLINGEES. WE NOW KNOW OUR OPPONENT AND CAN FOCUS THE POWER.
PUCKHUFFERS@GMAIL.COM + BLINGEE.COM=DO IT