Sunday, August 30, 2009

hail the victorious dead

Well, they're not dead, but any excuse we have to quote King Théoden is a good one. This post is a last hurrah for certain gentlemen who have played their last games as Pittsburgh Penguins. And there is no better way to do that than by spamming you with pictures.

Today we found the holy fucking grail of Petr Sykora pictures, the kind we wish we'd had for our Father's Day post, Crash My Net Friday, and in frames on our bedside tables when the news came down that he wasn't coming back no matter how much we begged.

Remember the voucher system of NHL photography? Petr Sykora opted out of it. He looks good when he pleases and bad when he pleases. Gary Bettman was understandably flabbergasted on draft day in 1995 when he approached young Petey with an entry-level packet of photo vouchers, only to have them pushed laughingly back in his face. Commissioner Bettman was even more shocked when Petr posed for his draft picture shortly thereafter.

(Note: Gary himself is made of synthetic material and he's well-aware that vouchers have no effect on the undead.)
"Kid, seriously. You look greasy and pale and awkward and like you spent prom night jerking into a tissue and reading Kafka. Are you sure you don't want one of these?"

"Fuck off."

For awhile, it seemed like the voucher program would remain in complete control of hockey-related photography league-wide. As Bettman expanded the program, he bribed all foreign media sources to adopt a similar system. Vouchers became endorsed for use outside of the USA and Canada during tournaments, events, and offseason activities, and are not accepted without the Commissioner's official stamp of validity, which all sports photographers are trained to recognize.

To this day Bettman is mystified as to how that bastard Sykora is able to circumvent the voucher program. When Petey took his team photo for Anaheim, the Commissioner thought he was in the clear--for who would adopt a hairstyle such as that and not try to turn in a voucher to give it a little more class and polish?
Uhhhh.

However, shortly thereafter, Petr Sykora started doing the unexplainable.
And this is where we come to the photo directories of that nasty Czech tabloid, AHA.
Um. Yeah.
You could Photoshop a used tampon over the Stanley Cup and this would still look like the embodiment of swagger.
He signed autographs and shared the Cup with tons of fans in the Czech Republic this past week, and this is what they give us?
It's called assault, Mr. Sykora. Assault.

How does he get by without his annual voucher packet?
It's been going on for years now.
Really the hair couldn't even be explained away by the voucher program.
That's something innate and powerful.

This summer, while his foot was broken, he also thought it would be a really awesome idea to let the Czech media photograph him playing ball hockey with his 2-year-old son.
Bettman fought a losing battle to keep the photographs from being released until he figures out what the hell is preventing Petr from becoming dependent on vouchers.

Sure, he takes the occasional bad picture. You can't be "on" all the time.



Sometimes Bettman wonders if the magic is wearing off and tries to get Petr on a global video conference call to deliver threatening ultimatums.

OH EXCUSE ME COMMISSIONER I HAVE TO PUT THIS HELMET ON MY SON WOULDN'T WANT HIM TO FALL AND HURT HIMSELF
NOW WHAT DID YOU SAY? SOMETHING ABOUT MY POLO?
I AGREE THAT BLUE IS MY COLOR--ONE OF MANY OF MY COLORS, ACTUALLY
NO I DIDN'T INTENTIONALLY TOUSLE MY HAIR BEFORE THE PHOTOGRAPHERS CAME. YOU'RE CRAZY.

By the way, readers, have you ever felt an overwhelming need for a 1600-pixel wide image of Petr Sykora in a pink polo shirt with a Ferrari that's worth more than your life, your parents' lives, and the island territory of Guam? No? Well, shit, we're sure you'll find one.
Click for full experience.

This saga will probably continue until someone dies.
For now, Petr Sykora is still a two-time Stanley Cup champion and more man than we'll ever know what to do with.
Aaaaaaand. . .game.

Oh, and you may (or may not, depending on your level of sanity at this point in the post) remember that we began this post by use of "they" and "gentlemen." Meaning that there's more than one man we have to address here.

Who else could we mean but Harold Priestley Gill III?

Hal Gill and the Stanley Cup recently had a party on the USS Constitution in Boston.
No photos of it have surfaced, though the Boston Herald teased us by putting Hal in a very nice polo of his own. Evidently, the party was very befitting of his nickname, and other nautical vibes that surround his mystique.


This is the USS Constitution.
Now that's a great boat.

Here's what you can do. You have from this moment forward until September 15 when the puck drops at preseason:
- Photoshop Hal Gill onto the USS Constitution. Use any pictures you like.
- Blingee it.
- Send it to puckhuffers@gmail.com with the subject line "ON A BOAT" (uncreative, but easy to sort).

Best one wins a Penguins keychain.

Shit, son.
Go Pens.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

whilst you lounge around

Today we had a business meeting (coffee and mocking each other) to discuss the 2009/2010 season for PH.
Clearly, it was a productive day. We have some goodies chillin' on the back burner just for you.
The first preseason game is on September 15th, if you haven't started counting down the days yet.
It's the Blue Jackets. At Mellon Arena. Which is an event in and of itself for us, aside from the fact that it's the first NHL hockey for us in months. Funny how the League's shortest summer can seem so long.
Before then, we'll prepare an Epic Preview™ of the season ahead.
It's going to be another long, hard road to defend the Cup, and we'll be there every step of the way.
And honestly, we can't fucking wait.

Not to tease you or anything, 'cause today's a fucking bust.

Dany Heatley has been whining all weekend. What else is new?

But there is something else special about this season. Something that comes around only once in awhile. We almost forget about it sometimes. And that is. . .the Winter Olympics. We won't overload you with Olympic shit. Some people adore the Olympics, and other people could care less, but hey, hockey is involved. Not that Olympic hockey is particularly great or anything, because the ice is bigger and fewer people fuck shit up and overall it's just a very formal occasion. But playing for your country is something special. Teamwork is something special. Friends become enemies and vice versa. It can be a very interesting event.

Plus, as with most things that matter less to us than discovering pancake preferences among hockey players, the world tries to give us a mediagasm.

Sid doesn't give two shits about the Olympics, really. He has a hard enough time representing hockey as a whole and rubbing his dick on the Stanley Cup. Asking him about Team Canada will make him smile and nod and be Media Sid, but you know what's really on his mind the whole time. It won't embed, but if you have a chance to go over to NHL.com's frontpage, feel free to help us fill in the blanks.

Some definite possibilities:
Once is not enough, clearly.

I wonder where the Cup is right now.

How many Stanley Cups has Ovechkin won? What about Mike Richards? What about YOU, sir? How many have YOU won?

Hah. . .hahah. . .yeah. . .I won the Cup. It was a little over two months ago. Oh. . .memories. Hah. Hahahahaha.

At 21, most people have finished up their life's greatest binge drinking. I don't binge drink. I tend to sensually sip champagne out of a trophy. I'm pretty much always sober. It's how I stay badass.

I did it for the lulz. And the glory. I really don't care what you are saying right now.

But thanks for the interview. Really. It's been real. Like caressing-the-Stanley-Cup real. Well. . .not really. PSYCHE! Mmm. . .the taste of silver. . .

Leave your ideas in the comments.

They also got Fattie Nash to look all fluffy and cute. We think he actually cares about Canada at this point in his career. Plus, he actually looks like he does in person when he's wheeling around in his pimp truck as opposed to awkward and fuzzy.


So yeah. . .
Pens won the Cup.
Heatley's still a bitch.
Summer's getting closer to being over.

Life ought to be good. We will keep you posted.

Go Pens.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

lovin' america, pbr style.

While we love the country we live in, we rarely express it with the zeal those in the south do. We were sort of creeped out by the cult-like love of 'merica at the professional bull riding event taking place at the Predators arena. But we've recently started to consider that maybe...just maybe...they had some idea of what was going on.
(Excuse the watermarks, Getty wants us to cry.)
Rocking the USA jersey and working the props.

Smiling with the eyes.

And now with the srs face.

Needless to say, Tyra and noted fashion photographer Nigel Barker are pleased.
The rest of the American hockey team looks tragic. Why is it that certain players look really great only at certain times? We have an answer, but you're not going to like it.

At the beginning of every season, Gary Bettman hands out vouchers to all of the players. They are all good for one good night of press photography. The players are told to use them wisely and given a power point presentation on how to redeem them. During this presentation, Mister Bettman obviously slips a few extras under the table to Sidney Crosby as a token of his love and appreciation for going along with his diabolical plans to rig the NHL.

Players can use these vouchers at any time, but once they are gone, they are gone.
Sidney uses his vouchers as carefully as he can, given the amount of press he has to put up with. He saves them for nights he plans on striking poses that will go down in sports photography history, and for various awards and honors.

For example, Cappy can look relatively normal (albeit like a wax statue) when receiving his Order of Nova Scotia medal:

But if he gets too many honors throughout the year, he starts looking more like this:
It is a hard decision for many players, what games to spend them on. Should you use them before the end of the season and avoid assuming that you will be battling for the Cup and needing them for summer coverage as well? Or do you save them all up in hopes of looking fly should you win? (Keep in mind, these vouchers do not roll over to the next season. Weren't you watching the power point?)

Should you spend them all and win the Cup, you risk pulling one of these over:
And that's on your living room wall. Forever.
But if you don't make it, that means you're just wasting vouchers and looking at an ugly season. And it's not like anyone cares about your summer.

Moving on, another policy we have learned is that if you need some extra help, you can double up your vouchers for certain nights of awesome. How do you think Malks got by at the award show at the ASG photo shoots? His general adorable goofiness was suddenly replace by a suave, polished look. If you still don't believe in the voucher program, let's compare:
Double Voucher

Single Voucher

OH SHIT I KNEW I LEFT THOSE THINGS ON THE BED SIDE TABLE.

On the other hand, you have Alexander Ovechkin who just thinks that the vouchers are drink tickets and thus never uses them.
"Excuse me sir, but this does not buy you a vodka rocks."
"Well fuck. I guess I'll just throw them away."

So, the logical conclusion is that while other team USA photos look like something stolen from a late 80's yearbook or boy band's CD jacket sleeves:
Brooks had plenty of vouchers left over. The assumption is that he never uses them, just goes with the total badassery that he exudes in photos year round. But we figure around times like these his mother steps in and kindly asks he use one so that she has something to put on her mantel. And this is why Brooks Orpik owns America.

Work the camera, Brooks, work it.

Also, thanks to the comments section for bringing up this fabulous PSAMP post. It turned our attention to several youtube videos, including this one where Eric Godard gets beat up by his niece Morgan:


Clearly this post was all bullshit to bide time until we can organize something that is real.
Between the road trip, Zoe's job and Kim's recently successful fight for a job, we've been a little busy as of late. But we're getting pumped for the new season, and we hope that you are too.
We're about to kick this shit back into gear.

CAN YOU HANDLE PUCK HUFFERS 09/10?!
We're guessing you can.

Go Pens.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

goddamn we had it made

Well, we're home. Somehow.
The whole trip was oddly successful, if you can believe that.
Not without some issues thrown in, but if there weren't issues it wouldn't have been the adventure we all hoped for.
Say goodbye to the Twitter for now. There are times and places for Twitter and it would probably lose its magic if every day we updated it with shit like "LOL EATING TOSTITOS IN BED" and "OMFG JUST CALROLLED EACH OTHER IN TEXT MESSAGES." We'd lose our sanity more than we currently have. We are already confused by having computers at our disposal all the time.

The road was great, but today, we saw heaven.
Making an epic, triumphant arrival home never gets old.

We did "Five Reasons We Love Hockey" for Puck Daddy. It's awkwardly honest and appropriately nerdy. Some who have read want to stab their eyes out after doing so, so we clearly recommend that you check that out.

Things coming up to look forward to:
- we're actually going to mail out the prizes for our photo contest
- we're having another contest, probably of the crayon-coloring variety, in which you can win yourself something that is both useful and pimp
- we're going to get back into the groove of shit and start getting you pumped for next season, because there is absolutely no reason why the epic has to stop now

HUAGLAHAGLAGALAHAHGALAGH
Go Pens.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Twitter is broken or something. We are okay. Looked for the nearest Wal-Mart, almost searched in the GPS under "lodging." We rule.

Friday, August 14, 2009

greetings from the road.

If you are following our Twitter, you are aware that we are currently in a Panera Bread somewhere in Alabama. It's air-conditioned and clean and safe and has free wi-fi, making it the most civilized place we've seen in days. So we thought we'd take this chance to give you a sample of what our trip has been visually.
Caged zambonis in a storage room we were most certainly not allowed to be in at the RBC Center.

PH Staff authorizes themselves, bitches.

We think this sign was in South Carolina. But we could be tragically off target. Either way, it really captures the way that this entire trip is going.

Talbot Trash Patrol. The people who pick up the solo cups on his front lawn every morning? The lucky individuals cleaning his hot tub? It leaves so much to the imagination.

We weren't even a little bit sure why there was a piece of cardboard with the word "clothes" taped onto our shady motel door with blue electrical tape. But we loved it.

Our nightstand at said motel.

They had our favorite channel.

The parking lot was equally as savory as the inside of the room!

The French Quarter in New Orleans boasted some really magnificent products.

...and some equally magnificent places.

The sandwiches we purchased here were just ribs and chicken between bread. With the bones and everything. Alabama might know BBQ, but it doesn't know shit about sandwiches.

The GPS said that we were in an abyss when were were actually just on a horrifyingly scary back road in Mississippi. At least it was paved.

Unlike this shit, which the GPS swore to us was a legit road that we could take all over the place no matter what we thought or how many trees were growing into the middle of it. Nothing has ever been less of a road than this. Ever.

That is all we have for you right now. Stay tuned on Twitter, because really, we're still not sure we're going to make it out of this alive. Should we actually survive, we'll return on Tuesday, at which point we'll be hosting several contests to help all of you win FABULOUS prizes, which we will probably mail long after you've forgotten you won. (Girls, we're mailing them soon, we love you, forgive us.)

Wish us luck.
Go Pens.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

driving the van


Privet! Kak dela? Men'a zovut Allison.
(See, Kim wasn't kidding when she said I knew some Russians!).
Anyway, Zoe and Kim are somewhere in VA. They so kindly handed me the keys to the van. Don't worry, I am now sober so there is no need for cries of "no waay im friving a van tihgt n now". See, if I was drunk, I would take a cab.


OH! Speaking of cabs...

Patrick Kane was arrested this morning.

Allegedly, he assaulted and robbed a cab driver.

Puck Daddy

TSN


"The report says the cab fare was $13.80 and the Kanes handed the driver $15. He claims he had only $1 change and was not in possession of another twenty cents to give back. According to the police report, both Kanes took their money back and punched the cabbie in the face and head."

Ummmmmm...

$0.20 is 1/8625000 of Kane's salary... just to add some perspective to the mix.




Maybe Kaner will get lucky, and they will accidentally try him as a juvenile. Easy mistake, if you ask me.


EDIT:


There really are no words.
(Although P. Kane is looking like a fattie... and I can't decide if its Nash fat, or Hartnell fat.)
 
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