Sunday, May 31, 2009

Burning effigies in the Wal Mart parking lot. These are mobile posts btw. Malkin is angry. Everyone will die. We'll post tonight unless we get arrested. Woo!

Saturday, May 30, 2009

on the wrong boat

Blahblahblah.

Here are some things we want to remind you of:
1.) Bounces are the worst thing in hockey when they don't go your way, and the best when they do. It's one of many reasons to love the game. Its unpredictability, its momentum shifts. There's a short turnaround period for the next game. Someone will benefit. We like to think that it'll be us.
2.) We're winning tomorrow.
3.) Everyone on that entire team is a fucking turd.
4.) Osgood is the fattest turd.
5.) Oh, did we mention that we're winning?

If they stop getting ridic bounces and we start finishing, this series is going to be a crazily even-matched six or seven games of terror.

Our executive decision for the Stanley Cup Finals is that we're not doing any more awards shows.
They're playing for something else now. Our awards are totally meaningless in the face of the Stanley Cup Final.
Instead, we're going to do our best to amuse, entertain, and provide perspective for you.
What better way than with the glories of math?
(Stay with us here.)
We stole this idea from bwe.tv because we don't get paid to do this shit.

DELICIOUS APPLE TURNOVER
÷
JOY
+
SOME BEARDED GREMLIN
×
SIR MIX-A-LOT
=
DETROIT'S FIRST GOAL

BIRTHDAYS
+
CHRISTMAS
+
ALL OF KIM'S SEXUAL FANTASIES (minus Hal Gill)
=
BROOKSIE'S HIT ON MARIAN HOSSA

HYDRALICIOUS BY HERBAL ESSENCES
×
THE LAUNCHING OF SPUTNIK 1
×
FAT
=
RUSLAN'S SEX GOAL, ASSISTED BY MALKS

JOE LOUIS ARENA A FUCKING BOUNCY CASTLE
÷
SOME KIDS DOING SPEED IN THE SHEETZ PARKING LOT

THEIR TRICKED OUT DODGE NEONS WITH TRUNKS FULL OF FAYGO
=
FURTHER GOALS, BY SOME OLD GINGER AND A KITTEN NO ONE CARES ABOUT

THE EXXON VALDEZ

ALL YOUR ZOË'S DREAMS OF MAX BEING A HERO
=
DETROIT FAILING AT THE EMPTY NET 580458435794 TIMES BUT WINNING ANYWAY

PENS LOSE
3-1
STILL BETTER THAN LAST YEAR
IT'S CALLED A BEST OF SEVEN, DIPSHITS

In conclusion, we'd like to leave you with the best moment of the game (save for the fact that no one buried it):
IT'S STUCK IN MY BLOWHOLE OH NOESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Also, a Blingee for your troubles:

(here's the original image in case you needed it)

Game tomorrow. Seriously. In like. . .eighteen hours.
Hope the boys sleep more than we do.

GO PENS.

Friday, May 29, 2009

mmm, pudding

Okay, so. If you think there's going to be new information, new fuel for the hate train, new anything today, you're just high.

We clearly have more important things to do today, like eat noodles and roll around on the floor being dirty and doing nothing whatsoever. Some of us actually have to work tomorrow before the game. Longest. Day. Ever.
The mere idea of tomorrow gives us chills and makes us shudder. Our eyes mist up. We're not in good shape. It just needs to start. That's all there is to it.

IMPORTANT REMINDER OVER HERE
First off, we are still having a shirt contest that could very well be over by the end of next week if you don't hop to it.
Make a sign for us and take your picture with it in an exciting locale. Try, if at all possible, to wear your favorite piece of merchandise from Pittsburgh Steel Rocks.
Best picture gets a PSR shirt of his or her choosing.
Mail to puckhuffers@gmail.com with the subject line "WE CAN DO THIS."
Contest ends when the Pens' playoffs end.
Fucking do it.
Obscure your face if you want. We're not stalkers but we understand how you could think differently on that issue.

NEW CONTEST, LESS PRIZE
We're having another Blingee rally.
Last time we tried to do a positive-energy Blingee rally, the Pens went down 2-0 in the series.
This is a negative-energy Blingee series.
A DEROGATORY BLINGEE CONTEST, if you will.
Make Red Wings Blingees and send them to us. Also eligible is the beauty that is Pierre McGuire, Mike Milbury, or Eddie Olczyk. Don't make any of Mike Emerick, we love him. The fact that he actually works for NBC Sports is a mystery for the ages; we know he's more respectable than that.

Prime example of what we're looking for:

(Disclaimer: We don't hate anyone with a few extra pounds. Not in the least. We're not superficial people when it comes to judging your worth as a human. Like, we love everyone, for the most part. We love Rick Nash and we know he's fat, both inside and out. There are, however, people with evil, fat souls who do nothing but eat pudding and try to destroy hockey, like Chris Osgood. What a fatass.)
(Disclaimer Part 2: You might spend an hour staring at the little dancing pudding or the galloping pig army. We assume no responsibility for how much time you waste, either looking at this Blingee or making your own.)


In short:
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Fuck Detroit.
Go Pens.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

a note to the readership.

There are certain subjects that Zoë kindly asks me to avoid from time to time. If not avoid, then at least calm down a little and put my switchblade away before anyone gets too seriously injured. Sometimes my love of Jeff Taffe gets out of hand. My hate of Kočí. My feelings on the AHL, especially when drunk. And, of course, my hate of the Red Wings. However, this is not any other day. This is not any other series. This is one of the only times of the year that Zoë will allow me to roam the streets screaming, wielding that switchblade, innocent passersby be damned.

But before we start that, an important word on the state of affairs here at PH.
From here on out, our recaps will be a combined effort.
Usually we alternate, one of us writing diligently into the night while the other watches cartoons and occasionally says something worthwhile for the other to include.
Fun fact: as a general rule of tradition established by our laziness by the end of the post, the person not writing the recap tends to do the "Alternative Three Stars" awards.
Anyway, you needn't worry that our collaboration will change anything, as we've written a few things together and they turned out okay. Think Bill Guerin's Cobra Scorpian Whiskey Adventure and The Staal Brothers Drinking Game. Combined, we tend to be deadly. (If only through alcohol poisoning...)


Considering this, however, we decided that we need to include something of a series disclaimer.
It resides below this bolded text.
We hate the Wings. Vehemently. We're talking some ugly, claws out, mud slinging, no-sportsmanship-esque-respect, all out bitchy hate. Sometimes we try to suppress it for the sake of, well, sportsmanship. But we don't always succeed.
Let me be more specific.
I don't always succeed. Zoë's pretty good at staying level-headed.

We know that some of you can *cough* *gag* *cough* *ugh* TOLERATE the Wings. Because we can't imagine anyone doing anything other than 'tolerating' them. So, Wings fans, Pens fans who respect *cough* the Wings, anyone who doesn't think it'd be worth it to get convicted of a felony in the name of hockey and all that is holy at the expense of the Wings, this goes out to you: We are not going to be rational. We are not going to be unbiased in any way, shape, or form. We are going to be mean, terrible, awful people. You have every right to tell us we're wrong about something.
But to save you some time, we won't agree. And our minds won't be swayed.

So, in the coming days, please remember this.
We are about to become monsters.
We love you all, and we'll see you on the other side when this is all over.

If you get too mad, just remember how cute we are.


So, in the next few days we'll have a lot to say.
Some examples:
Everyone on the Wings is an old ginger. Seriously, they all look the same, it's like a fucking cult. If they're not old and ginger they have creepy, gremlinesque beards. And Chris Osgood is fat. And not the Rick Nash good fat. Not even Fatty Hartnell bad fat. Like...his own breed of horrid fat.

Just saying.

Anyway, this is essentially every sports movie ever written. I mean, this is the Ducks versus the Hawks, Iceland, and Varsity combined. If ever there were a story of Heart vs. pure, Curry-less evil, it is this.

Do Wings fans realize that they're rooting for Darth Vader in the face of Luke Skywalker? They're pulling for Sauron, Malvolio, Scar, the 1980 Soviet Union Olympic team? How do they sleep at night knowing that their only function in life is to destroy the hopes and dreams of those that are more deserving of the win, if only because they actually care? We have a theory that Wings fans and players both couldn't give a shit less about hockey, they only care about winning. Watch a game. It makes sense.

Luckily for the Pens, we have more than heart this year. We have the skill to back it up. And like the Ducks, once we get that down, we're taking them all down.
GUNNER STAHL WE ARE LOOKING AT YOU.

But really, that's all we've got for today.
Every day until Saturday is worthless.
But the time is coming.

Go Pens.
Finish it.

farewell hawks

First off, we're going to keep a running tally for everyone of how many bags of Hint of Lime Tostitos we consume this summer. Today saw the emptying of #4. They may or may not be made entirely of cocaine and MSG.

We would say something about the game tonight, but there really isn't much to say. Huet stood on his head. Dan Cleary is a moron who got lucky with his stick in the right place at the right time. Kaner's goal was SICK.

None of that matters now.

They had an amazing season, but the pieces aren't all there yet.
They'll have their chance at it, and we'll probably be behind them when they do.

We all knew that the Red Wings were going to win this game and that the Penguins would be in Detroit on Saturday.
We knew it.
Everyone did.

Here's Hank not touching his trophy.
It's called mojo, Henrik.
And we have it.

If you're a human being and not a gremlin, you really fucking hate Tomas Holmstrom.
Seriously. We just hate the Wings. Everything about them. Some of their players we like, but we've decided that to be considered clean they have to serve a minimum of two years with the Blue Jackets organization to learn how to be lovable and play hockey with all the fun parts included. As opposed to Red Wings hockey, which destroys all accepted definitions of "fun" in all languages, including Swedish.

No one knows what the fuck is up with Lidstrom and Datsyuk.
Or at least we don't. Because it doesn't matter who we're playing. We just have to win.

This is our year and we're taking it.
Still in awe over what pimps everyone has been?
Yeah, us too.

We've also decided that there is no use for the term HOPE anymore in relation to this season or these playoffs.
We don't hope. We just know that we have what it takes to get the job done. Hope? Who needs hope when you genuinely have the ability? We'll leave it up to the boys. They know what they're doing and they can make it happen. It's out of our hands. Hope and $1.25 will get you a 16oz. Coke out of the machine. And what if it eats one of your quarters? Well then you ain't got nothin'. Hope may be a currency in some situations, but at this time of the year in the National Hockey League you just have to be good.

Play your heart out. Don't get us wrong. The Pens have the ability to show more heart than almost any team in the league.
But when you have heart and you're good and you're on a roll to fucking begin with?

We're ready.
Tomorrow we'll talk some more about how we're ready, probably.
GO PENS.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

We will post about this later. Huet got jobbed in OT. Guys, the rematch. It's real. Zetterberg didn't touch the Campbell Cup. Look who's scared this year.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

a new day.

In the face of what is coming, it's hard to talk about what just happened. It's been looming for a while now, but we all just barely trusted ourselves to hope. We can say it now, though. The Penguins are going to the Stanley Cup Finals for the second year in a row. It took us until the very moment that the clock hit 00:00 to remember this feeling. Memory can't do things like this justice.

We don't know who we're facing yet.
Don't look at me like that, we don't.
It isn't over yet in the west. So we're not going to talk about it yet. We'll handle it when it comes.

We have plenty of time to talk about all of that, though. More time than any of us would have expected. Really, who saw this coming? The Canes were supposed to put up a fight. We were expecting a lot from them. We had planned on posting pictures of us burning our Cam Ward hockey cards after every loss...but our collections are still suspiciously large.

We can't complain, only shake our heads in wonder.
The end of the award shows are near, boys.
Only seven possible games left.
Do it.

CELEBRATION OF THE END OF AN ERA
Not even two minutes into the game Eric Staal realizes that while his lack of production has been giving Canes fans plenty to drink over, he was failing to give Penguins fans enough reasons to drink. He makes up for it by putting one behind Fleury.

The word "brothers" pokes its head out from the cave it has been hiding in.
Knowing precisely what was about to happen, you dig around in your cabinet for that dusty bottle of Jack. It tastes like broken furniture and bonfires. You're not concerned about the lead
This is about to get good.
Carolina fans enroll themselves in a 12-step program. They feel a wind of change.

MOMENT THE SOUP KITCHEN LET OUT AND ALLOWED A VAGRANT TO BANK AN ASSIST
Ruslan tips one in with the help of Boucher and that one other guy who looks kind of homeless for the tie up.

Said homeless guy was quoted as saying:
"I don't care how ugly or how hairy or how greasy I am. It's the playoffs. You have a reason to do it."

We'd like to point out the obvious misinformation that is the implication that he behaves any differently when it isn't the playoffs. We love you, Max. Just the way you are.

You're feeling pretty solid now that the Pens have stopped frolicking around Fleury seeming like they didn't have a care in the world and have moved on to actually making things happen.
Wait?
What was that?
BOTH STAALS ARE ON THE ICE?
Things are kind of awesome.

Malkin gets shown to the penalty box because he tries to grab LaRose's hand to guide him through this difficult time in his life. The refs are unsympathetic to LaRose's situation. Canes vomit.

OH GOD WHOSE BRIGHT IDEA WAS THIS
Before the period ends, Talbot buries the most absurd shot to ever happen.
Cam Ward was on acid, and not the good kind.
The puck spoke to him as it flew towards him.
ELLO, I CAN HAS ZEE NET? MERCI LOLOLOLOL
He formed a complex conspiracy theory on Marc-Andre brainwashing the pucks before each game, which he forgot as soon as he felt the gentle breeze of the puck sailing past his face.
Talbot walks into the lockerroom for intermission with a distinct pimp strut.
He stops at Crosby.

"Hey Captain, how many goals did you get in that period?"
"..."
"Yeah, that was a pretty sweet pair of points you logged."
"..."
"Oh, what? Oh, I guess that WAS me. Sorry, I got a little confused."
"..."
"Don't worry, when you're 25 you'll understand how I did it."

No one will ever hear the end of it. Ever.

The period ends with us leading.
Dare we even think it?
No...not yet.
But maybe that wind of change the Canes felt was really just the harsh wind of sobriety.

Malkin takes another penalty. You're surprisingly unconcerned heading into intermission. You wonder what is happening to you.

VERSUS' BEST ATTEMPTS AT GIVING YOU CIRRHOSIS

The beginning of the second period is a shit show. Not on Versus, not on the ice, but in your living room.
The drinking game is back with a vengeance.
Linda and Henry are mentioned.
Both Staals on the ice.
Compared at length, by anyone's standards.
Mentions of Marc Staal.
The sod farm

The only thing left out was Fat Jared. But he'll find his way into the shot-fest soon. If not, at least the Staals know who to eat first if it's a particularly harsh winter in the wilds of Thunder Bay.

MOST GRATEFUL
Guerin absolutely stuns Cam Ward with this shot, making the lead 3-1.

Billy will tell us a hundred times a day how happy he is to be here, but even still, we think we're just as pleased to have him as he is to be here.

Everyone is trying not to think "nail in the coffin." Talbot it just praying they don't score again so he can boast the GWG. But with nearly a period and a half of play left yet, we're thinking it won't be an issue. Right? ...RIGHT?!

MOMENT VERSUS MADE EVEN US SMILE
Versus spends a good three minutes talking about how Robert "American Hero, Virtuous Human Being, Husband of Courtney, Man of the Year" Scuderi is 'grossly underrated', he is compared to Lidstrom. He is said to "always be in the right place."

Can someone please alert the press? No photos of him in this series really even happened. Rob Scuderi should be followed by paparazzi twenty-four hours a day, just so that American citizens can model their lives to be more like his.

The third period comes with little hassle.
Victory...is that you?
Shhh, don't be too loud, my parents might hear you.
Just hang on, they're going to bed soon.


MOMENT YOU REALIZED YOU WERE ROOTING FOR A MONSTER

The third period spends a lot of time in the Pens defensive zone. At first you are considering being nervous about all of that puck movement around Fleury, but then a sense of calm washes over you. You hardly care when LaRose douches Staal, leading to a 5 on 3 that we failboat. The Pens pick up the pieces faster than LaRose can get us to run screaming from a dark alley.

After that, the Penguins look like a pack of velociraptors. They aren't letting anything happen, and in between shutting everything down, they are jumping forward with some swift offensive chances. You're just going with it. You hardly even know what is happening.
The transformation, it has commenced.

You are just cheering like usual when you are stopped in your tracks by something small. A TV time out. A stoppage of play. Your cat puking on the carpet. And you have that moment to think it over...

Curry. At some point the pieces snapped into place. Chad LaRose poured oil all over our gears. Sensually. We are a machine.

If the Canes thought hope existed for a comeback, Crosby killed it when he handed Craig Adams the puck for an empty net.

Game.
Series
Eastern Conference Playoffs.

PENS 4 CANES 1
Sweeeeeeeeeep.



INDIVIDUAL AWARDS

BEST PIMP SLAP TO HISTORY

Mario touched the ECF trophy both years they won the Cup.
It's like saying TO HELL WITH LUCK, I GOT SKILLZ.
We support the touching, caressing, and dick-rubbing of the Prince of Wales trophy. Do whatever you want, you earned that shit. Show it who's boss.
A photo for the ages.

PHOTOGRAPH THAT LEAST DESCRIBES THIS SERIES BUT IS TOO HILARIOUS NOT TO INCLUDE
ALTERNATIVE THREE STARS

1. Max Talbot-
"Hey, Sid, that was an awesome GWG. And, hey, Geno. Nice +2. Oh...wait...wait...am I looking at the game summary right? Sorry, this grid hurts my eyes sometimes. Marc, will you come tell me if this column is Sid or Geno's? What? MINE?!"

UPDATE.

Sidney Crosby: "..."
I AGREE WITH SID.
Zoe is crying.
This video ruined our night.

2. Bobby Scuds- Finally getting the much-deserved recognition.

3. The Staal Family-
For everything.

There's so much to talk about.
There's so much to think about.
But we can't do it all right now. It's coming.
But tonight, let's bask in the glory of all we've done.
Four months ago the world was talking about draft picks.

We've never been at a loss for hope.
Let's keep it coming.

It's been real, East.

Go Pens.


Monday, May 25, 2009

across the endless sands through the fields of our despair


Never has a song described a day more perfectly.
Listen as you read.
That is not a suggestion. It is a command.

Guess what we found?!?!
WE ARE VICTORIOUS AND SO ALIVE.

What did you do today? We ate dead animal with our bare hands and watched the '91 Cup victory, and the '06 Pens-Flyers game in which Crosby had a six point night. Allison got trashed as fuck.

Omg idk what I was saying... Iuust opened my internet to see hthat I had writetn thatbeforews... Hahaha. Doyinz see what the nhk is doing to me... Uif there was hockey I woulkd not be this drunks. Hahaha. Go penguinzzzzzzz$

It's like an old Evgeni text message, '$' and all. We're pleased with her efforts. We hope you were all as successful as she was. Or as we were, because we love dead animals and hockey. The two go hand in hand.

If you were wondering, it was a deer leg. We marinated it in a cooler with some old Coors Light. Like, seriously old. And various spices. Needless to say, we don't mind if Bambi is an orphan. Fuck it. Mmmmm.

Oh, also, today is the anniversary of the Cup game that we watched, so really, why weren't YOU watching it? We want good excuses. What did you all do today? Tell us about it. Sensually.

Offdays were pretty great. Brooks's hair was less fugz than usual, and JStaal disingenuously said his brother would "break out" next game. Like, we're talking some serious lying. Mom and Dad would recognize that little move from a mile away; hopefully they've sworn off watching offdays. Wouldn't want Uncle Jordy to get grounded.

Tomorrow is enormous. If we lose, WE MAY NOT ADVANCE YOU NEVER KNOW. We must crush them like bugs. Kill and marinate them like deer thigh. Et cetera. The Canes know what Dragonforce was saying in that song.
STAND ALONE IN JUDGMENT FOR TOMORROW.

We don't know how to address this next photo, only that you need to still be listening to that Dragonforce song when you click it to full view. We're...horrified. Everyone else should be, too.
EMPTINESS AND EVERLASTING MADNESS.

Seriously, read these lyrics. It's like our Cup rally song. We're moved.

Should we make it to the SCF, that is the song that will guide us on our epic quest, much like our epic quest to Target today to find Hint of Lime Tostitos. We were victorious. So shall be the Pens.

This was a weirdly intimate look into our daily life as fucking crazy people, we know. But really, it's a holiday, what can you expect from us? We miss hockey. We get a little sketchy without it.

Not like...Petey heading towards you with a rope and a grin sketchy....but sketchy nonetheless. (Zoe is crying now. That's what she gets for saying Kovie is too old to fuck me like ten posts ago.)

WOOOOOO!
Go Pens.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

flaming shitstorm

The way the NHL is scheduling games has got to be the most annoying thing ever.
Blame NBC and the apparent need of musical entertainment by millions during the fucking Stanley Cup Playoffs.
If there was hockey on, who would need music?
End of story.

btw, the Blackhawks had their lives ruined today by the Red Wings, who didn't even have Lidstrom and Datsyuk. Hossa stunned everyone.

Detroit will need one to clinch. The Hawks need two to stay alive. And honestly, based on the meltdown they had today (score was 6-1, yeah, we didn't even want to talk about it) it isn't looking good. It started with Kris Versteeg and rattled on up. The Wings tried to kill Havlat again. The refs started giving 10 minute misconducts out like candy and the bench got really damn empty and people were just getting thrown the fuck out. It was brutal. There was little dignity to be salvaged.

The press photography situation is just vomit.


Detroit gave Osgood a breather for the third period and put in Conkblock as the Hawks struggled to maintain any semblance of mental stability. That just reeked of class.
The Blackhawks put Corey Crawford in after Huet let up four goals.
They replaced him in favor of Huet again after the second.
Imagine being Corey Crawford.
Do you even want this job anymore?

Does Hossa even feel anything if he isn't rubbing his dick on the Stanley Cup?

You know what we say to this?
We say:
Fucking BRING IT, cumsluts.

Tomorrow, we'll try to entertain you as it will be yet another DAY WITHOUT HOCKEY.
What the fuck.
GO PENS.

who expected this?

Hey, it's Zoë, and I'm recapping two games in a row because we were at the big screen and that means FAKE RECAP CITY WOOOOOO. Kim will be with you for game 4. We'll stop doing this soon, we promise.
Especially since if we go to the Finals the good folks at NBC will make sure that no one can watch it outside the arena for the majority of the series!!!!!!

Anyway.
With the Pens heading to Raleigh to play the Hurricanes, the team that does nothing but come back, the team that has "Game 7" tattooed on their foreheads, we expected to face some adversity.
Going down 3-0 in a series is not what the Carolina Hurricanes are all about.
They come hard. They're not going to give you a lot of room.
Or. . .well. So we thought.
Our boys are on the verge of advancing to the Stanley Cup Finals for the second straight year.
We didn't expect it to come as it did, but we're basically murdering them. We hate to be homers and say shit like that. But. . .we kind of fucking murdered them.

Here's how:
First, Matt Cullen pretends he is a vampire Blingee long enough to give the Canes an early 1-0 lead.

Cameron and Sid are evidently having some disagreements about who puts what where in bed.

Then, Pens get some PP and Tim Gleason epicfails by clearing the puck directly into Evgeni Malkin, who walks in alone on Ward and changes his life forever by scoring. Bill Guerin kisses him in celebration. No, seriously. At 1:07. Unfuckingreal.

We were fine with the tie at this point. This was supposed to be a relatively difficult road game.
Escaping the first with the tie would have made us feel pretty good.
We thought we were going to get that, but then Crosby had other ideas.
Sweet Jesus.

Then, with less than 15 seconds left in the period, Malks goes to the net like he needs a tying goal or his season is over.
Pens jerseys at the glass = clutchhhhh
3-1 before you can breathe.

The second was blahhhhhhh.
Canes start the third hard. You see Samsonov batting in a big Fleury rebound to make it 3-2 and wonder if we're going to lose the series or something.
I mean, the Canes are supposed to be tough to beat, right?
No one photographed Samsonov's goal, by the way. We think the press is protesting Fleury not getting shutouts or something.

Malkin, instead of going in for his second consecutive hat trick, leaves an absolutely beautiful drop pass to Fedotenko, who tells Cameron to suck it.


With a 4-2 lead, the rest of the game seems to float away. Canes leave Ward out of the net on a neutral zone faceoff. You could smell their desperation over the stench of the rivers in Pittsburgh.
Craig Adams pokes the puck off the faceoff directly into the empty net, with some help from Jussi and his black mouthguard.
Fuck yes.

The best part is that late in the game the Pens got some PP, and they put out Eaton, Guerin, Kunitz, Fedotenko, and Boucher. The Canes let Billy G get wide open in the slot, and he backhands it. That was not an innocent shot. That was not the shot of a guy whose team is up 5-2 and on a PP with a little over a minute left in the game. If you listen to Joe Beninati, he isn't even excited to announce this goal. It's actually kind of cruel. So is Billy's skeezy old man face as he celebrates with Kuner:
OH THE THINGS I WOULD DO TO YOU

Boucher and Bayda try to beat the crap out of each other before it's all over. Boucher gets the extra 2 for some shit but the game is basically in the books.

PENS WIN
6-2
IS THE GOAL MARGIN GETTING BIGGER OR ARE YOU JUST HAPPY TO SEE ME

OTHER THOUGHTS
- Cam Ward's GAA against the Penguins this postseason is 5.33. GAA can be a bullshit stat, but that's kind of. . .whoa.

- JStaal took a huge elbow to the head at some point that wasn't penalized (*insert more whining here*) and was a -2. Eric Staal had 6 shots, but was without a point, rated a -3, and was an abominable 28% on 18 faceoffs. Just like we asked before. . .have the Staals become irrelevant in this series? Has the matchup changed? You'll probably be less drunk than you expected to be, at any rate. For that we apologize. There were still some unreal brothers references by Mr. Beninati this game that should have had you sitting back on the couch feeling all warm and alcohol-y.

- Max had a bunch of quality chances. I love him so it means a lot to me. All Kim can talk about is what a failure he is. Not because he actually is, but because my love for him is often easy to pick on.
He worked his ass off. If he continues to get chances like that, he's scoring Monday Tuesday? (This series is long as balls. The NHL needs an enema.) Bank on it.

- This is what we're up against:
Srsly.

- Malks and Gonch are the most adorable Russians to ever live:


- We saw the girl that the Pensblog guys affectionately refer to as Carrot. We have no idea what she was up to, but it was a special moment in our lives.

- If you can learn to drive in Pittsburgh you can probably drive anywhere. Do it as often as possible.

Well, now. That was fun.
We're exhausted.
It's a fucking Saturday night.
Go Pens.

 
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Puck Huffers by Kimberly Davidson and Zoë Hayden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.