Monday, October 13, 2008

A new age of BBQ 10/9/08

Once again, our intrepid team of morons and miscreants took to the ice, even though it was Yom Kippur (shame on the one Jewish person on our team), where another star studded event took place. The crowds (Linda, the mice, a stray cat, Jesus) cheered as the two able goalies kept this one a very close match! That is up until the championship, (we...errr...play to five) when team white solidified and team dark dissolved. White won! And in Bridgeport, that is saying something!

Our after game festivities included two Hiney kegs, and a large assortment of beers. The would be criminals that would have otherwise foiled feebler men of less manliness into little girls, bitching and crying about what to do about the stolen BBQ (see last weeks post!), didnt count on our resourcefulness. Rob W. came through with the portable, and Rob M. supplied some damn good hot wings with blue cheese to char upon it. Good shit!

Also, remember, any picture can be clicked on to increase it's size. Just in case you wanted to see the buffalo wings up closer to inspect for feathers.

John A. cooks, while the wing supplier Rob M. inspects the progress.

MMMmmm.....Buffalo wings!

We get our own STOP sign. This is to keep roving homeless away from our feast.

Tom is in pre-moon phase, or "waxing anus".

"Random shot". I am not that creative today :-(

Another night in paradise

Another random shot...gotta get to work at some point today, so this is it, too bad.

It's official! Jesus played hockey!


Just unearthed from the vatican in rome, this 2010 year old painting proves that the almighty himself loved hockey as much or more than we do. This leaves theologians to wonder about the true persecution of the son of god. Maybe they were Chicago Blackhawks fans? (the last time the Hawks won I believe was around this time).
No one may ever know the truth, but at least when we strap the blades on every Thursday, we can assume the big "J" is looking down, smiling, and whispering in our ears "hook that fucker!"

Thursday, October 9, 2008

BBQ GRILL IS STOLEN!!!!


NEWS FLASH from John F: "The Grill was stolen from the rink. I think if we find the Jeep we may
find the Grill "

John is a little behind the times (Jeep was found, dood)

Holy Shit! Can anyone in this world be more of a loser than the dreg(s) of society that has "acquired" our grill? I mean, come on. A Jeep with a cute cat is one thing, it's another to take a man's grill! It is second only to porking your best friend's wife. Right now, someone else's meat is being fondled on OUR grill, and I, for one, do not like it one bit! That should be OUR meat being cooked to perfection...grease and oil dripping onto the hot burner diffuser, popping into delightful, aromatic steam.

There is talk about skipping hockey tonight, forming a posse, and tracking down this scum. Perhaps chopping off a big toe and grilling that up, with some sauteed onions (does that go with big toe?) and forcing this vermin to consume his own flesh will be a lesson to other would be thieves.

In any event...a moment of silence is to be observed today at 4:20 (might as well smoke a bit while being silent).

Monday, September 15, 2008

The 8 players needed for a successful beer league hockey team

Rob W. emails me, and states: "Hey Bill you left off a couple key players from your post."

So here it is, updated and now complete...



Canadian Mens Beer Hockey CLASSIC
It's a well-known fact that there are only two seasons in Canada: summer
and hockey. According to long-standing tradition, the former starts with
the hoisting of the Stanley Cup, as fans in an American city celebrate.
The latter officially kicks off after Labor Day weekend.

In fact, there are hundreds, possibly thousands, of managers across
Canada who will spend the long weekend making personnel decisions in time for
the September dawn of a new season. Granted, the majority of these managers
are in charge of teams with names like "Old Puckers", "Rusty Blades",
"Just the Tips" and "Nine-Inch Males," but don't be fooled; beer-league hockey
squads can be downright tricky to put together. As with any successful
organization, you need the right mix, and that means drafting from the
following beer-league player categories:

Which one are you???

The Ringer

Some teams wait until the playoffs to unveil this option. Others go with
it right from the opening face-off. Either way, without a ringer, your
team is done. The challenge for managers is convincing a good player to suit
up for a bad side. This can be accomplished a number of ways, including
promises of goal-scoring glory and awe-inspired teammates. Most
effective, however, is let him play for free. It's simple math, really. Everyone
else pays an extra $50 and everyone else gets a shot at the "DD" Division
title.

The Young Guy

At first glance, he can easily be mistaken for a ringer, since the young
guy still wears the shorts and socks of his junior or college team. But
it's time for the next phase of life now, and that means an office job.
The young guy stays in shape for the first half of the year. Sadly, an
increasingly sedentary existence and late night partying catches up to
him by Christmas. 15 to 20 pounds later, he's just another player, huffing
and puffing with the rest. Welcome aboard, kid.

The Old Guy

Forget the 50-and-over league; that's not for him...even though his
gloves reach up to his armpits, and he still uses a wood stick. To be fair, the
old guy can be an effective player, especially if he's a wily old guy --
a hook here and a chop there, because that's how they did it when
professional athletes were real men. "Eddie Shore -- now there was a
hockey player! Lost an ear against the Maroons. Sewed it back on himself. Never
missed a shift."

The Tardy Goalie

Hey, thanks for showing up. Only five minutes gone in the first. Not
like you play a crucial position or anything. Take your time, dickhead.

The Beginner

Required only for cheap laughs. On the one hand, you have to admire the
beginner. It takes a lot of courage to buy all brand new equipment, and
take up hockey in your 40's. On the other hand, learn to take a pass,man.
It's right on your stick, for Christ's sake. How does that knock you
over? And now you're friggin offside! Not to mention the Beginner shows up at
every game, no matter what time or what day. Sunday night playoff game
at 11PM - no worries, Mr Beginner will be there.

The Complete Psycho

Also good for a few giggles . . . from afar. Most likely a cop or
fireman. The complete psycho is capable of anything: running the goalie,
challenging an entire bench, a tomahawk chop -- all in the repertoire. Do not feed
the complete psycho. He doesn't want to be fed. He wants to hunt. And, look
to him to carry on his act in the bar after the game.

The Naked Guy

Bane of the dressing room. Most players have the courtesy to stretch
their hamstrings while sporting, at the very least, a bit of underwear. Not
the naked guy. He'll carry on full conversations, and you had better
maintain eye contact like your life depended on it....or come face to face with
the swinging sausage.

The Guy with the New Girlfriend

An excellent way to lower everyone else's fees is to load up on a few of
these. The guy with the new girlfriend will show up to three games,
tops, so his payment will contribute to everyone else's and it's not like
you'll lose ice time by putting him on the roster. That said, beware that the
guy with the new girlfriend might very well turn into the guy with the new
wife...at which point he'll never miss another game.

The Organizer

This guy is absolutely brutal but since nobody else could be bothered to
do all the paperwork and collect the money he gets to play. Is
frustrating to play with because they can barely skate let alone take a
pass but nobody gets mad at him cuz he's a really nice guy. Is often
heard in the dressing room saying 'Sorry guys, that one was my fault'
and if he's lucky somebody will chip in something like 'No worries
Donny, it's a team effort.' What everybody is really thinking is 'Hey
Donny, my grandmother is a better player than you and yes you are right,
that was your fault.' If you are lucky the Organizer is usually smart
enough to take himself off the ice in critical situations.

The Minor Hockey Allstar

Looks promising at a glance as they fool you with reasonably good skills
but after you get zero passes you'll get the picture. This guy topped
out at 'AA' Midget and can be spotted by the huge blinders attached to
his helmet. Play is characterized by energetic rushes down the wing,
(no passing), then into the corner (still no pass), behind the net (hey
dickhead I've been open for the past 5 minutes),then into the next
corner (everybody has gone back to the bench to watch) followed by a
blind give away pass to the high slot / break out pass for the other
team. Cut this guy.

The Johnny Try Hard

Great to have on your team but they suck to play against because they
have somehow managed to keep themselves in ridiculously good shape.
They were probably the star on their high school hockey team and won
athlete of the year because they played hockey, volleyball and track all
in the same year. Guaranteed they have a membership at the 'Running
Room'. Play is characterized by constant hustle which if caught off
guard can embarrass the more talented yet fatter player.

The Stanley Cup Champion

This player will raise their hands and cheer when they score. If this
is an opposing player you must nip this behavior in the bud by catching
him off guard with a sickening open ice hit that causes him to blow snot
bubbles. If this player is on your team quickly chastise him in front of
the other team to let them know that this is not how the rest of your
team rolls. Remind him how much of a loser he is by retrieving the puck
from the net the next time he scores and presenting it to him in front
of the other team.

The Tough Guy

This guy maxed out at the house-league level, has never been in a fight
and is characterized by antagonizing behavior on the ice. In extreme
cases he will 'cheap shot' another player. The fact that your beer
league does not allow fighting has given this guy a false sense of
courage. What this guy does not realize is that this will not prevent
someone from knocking his teeth out if he cheap shots the wrong guy.
There is a number of fun ways to handle this player which all end with
him lying on the ice bleeding, looking for his teeth and crying.

The Wrong Guy

Not to be confused with 'The Complete Psycho'. This guy shows up,
doesn't say much and pretty much flies under the radar screen. The kid
that gave him the cheap shot him will eventually look his name up on
Hockey DB after his facial surgery and realize he had 355 pims in the
East Cost 3 years ago.

The Gary Roberts

Can be described as being way too intense. This guy is one of your
better players but is unable to adjust to the lower level of play. At
the best of times he will try to coach players on the fly and at the
worst of times he will snap and call his entire team a bunch of
house-leaguers. He believes the game should be played a certain way and
despises 'pond hockey' style play with no back checking or positional
assignments. Most likely is suffering from a complex of 'unfinished
business' from his previous hockey career and is looking to capture some
shred of glory via the rec-league championship. This guy is probably
better off playing with his own kind in a senior-A league.

Sniffles
The guy who pays for full time play but only makes about half the games because he suffers from chronic sniffles and reoccurring hangnails. A talented player, however, his “Premadonna” attitude affects his game.

The Official
The guy who calls every marginal off side and always in his team’s favor. Usually loud and whinny voice and counts his team’s goals by 2’s.

The Rugby Player
Reliving his rugby greatness at the ice rink where The Official (see above) never calls tackling penalties against his team.

The Helicopter Man
Rarely skates in control and when close to the puck spins with his stick on 1 hand. Also known as octopus man.

The Brothers
Think they are like the Sedin twins and have to play together to be effective. Have not realized that they are ineffective regardless of who they play with.

The Male Nurse
Enough said.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Bill P., a ring, a worm, and the Quilted Giraffe.

I received the following synopsis from Bill P. regarding the unfortunate incident that had occurred while doing nothing more than eating some salmon, getting engaged, and dropping the troops. Enjoy the story and video:

------
1991 – NYC. It’s time to get engaged and eat at the trendiest, most expensive Manhattan restaurant, The Quilted Giraffe. A seemingly harmless piece of “lightly seared” Norwegian salmon, flown in from Norway that morning, passes my lips and enters my digestive system as my wife and I stare lovingly into each others eyes.

1992 – 14 months later. The engaged couple attempts a first: a home-prepared dinner of crab meat. The meal is consumed and a fire rages in my belly. After multiple, explosive trips to the bathroom, a strange sensation emanates from the anus. As I look down into the bowl I see a string-like appendage dangling and wiggling.

I call to the fiancée – “did we eat Spaghetti last night?” Immediately I realize how ridiculous that question is. I look again, and it hits me that I am experiencing a macabre, Alien nightmare.

I call to the fiancée a second time – “get the keys and a Tupperware container – we’re going to the hospital!” After a very long pause, the reply comes softly and without any hint of a question…..”Ok”.

The Tupperware container is passed through the bathroom doorway, and I begin the extraction process. As I engage in this unthinkable, hand-over-hand tug-of-war with my ass, a two-foot worm emerges. After extraction, it is hurled into the bathroom sink.

I examine it under the stark light and observe that it has a spine and symmetrical ridges emanating out and down from that center line.. I scream. But I am struck by the fact that it is outside of my body now, and I may have the rancid crab to thank. Apparently it was “too hot in the kitchen” for the little guy.

We make our journey to the hospital and two Indian doctors are dumbfounded as they stare at the creature in its new Tupperware home. Finally, after what seems like hours of perplexed examination and questioning, I am provided with a prescription. The next day I learn that the prescribed medication has not been manufactured in 2 years.

Finally I see a reputable doctor. He does a “back of the envelope calculation” to determine, based on the length and growth rate of this worm, how long it’s been in my body. About 14 months. And it’s a fish worm that grows from a tiny egg found in raw salmon. And then it hits me – the worm was an early wedding present from the Quilted Fucking Giraffe.

Labor Day BBQ 8/28/08

Ahhhh...anyone else still feeling like they swallowed a bison? Or pulled a fish worm out of their ass? (See preceding post)

Our 2nd annual Labor Day dietary disaster began with a very scary thought: A shit load of food, but no propane tank! John F. had forgotten his tank, but being that he is the only one who actually brought a full sized grill and donated it to TWAHT, he was forgiven immediately. The forlorn furnace of food sat idle among a mishappen bench, pink punch buggy, and various weeds.Shortly thereafter, previously unknown to anyone, our illustrious cat fancier Tom B. announced he had a friggin huge chafing pan of sausage and peppers that his wife Chan had made for us...(we were assured he did not molest any of the meat or veggies)...and saved the night! The prospect of not putting on 42%more of the calories we just burned off back into ourselves was a bit frightening! Damn this shit was GOOOOOOOD! Thanks Chan from all of us!

So our little group of hockey players realize when the puck hits the post, sometimes it will bounce in off the goalie anyway...smiles!
Well, not to be foiled of more food, phone call is made to the Fat Man to grab a propane tank from home on the way over. Who knew he was the James Bond of eating, and had a traveling grill ready to go.
Tom gets it going...
Matt piles up the vittles-and what a frikkin selection: brats, burgers, and sausage. Fuck yea! I mean geez, the 8 lbs of sausage and peppers could never be enough for a group of men whose combined weight rivals that of the very foundation the ice rink is built upon. 
I still dont know exactly what these are...but it's gotta be safer than salmon. Plus Mike B. REALLY wanted me to get a picture of it. So here ya go Mike. Happy now fukker?
The food MUST be ready soon for everyone to be so happy.
Even John cannot help but sweat in anticipation of aortic failure or artherosclerosis. 
Matt...bringer of food, grill master...legend. Hi John! 
The meaty spread. 
Worshipping The Table.
Bill pontificates about being anal raped by a nemotode of sorts. He SAYS the worm came from salmon...I say gerbils stopped losing their thrill for him...However, see the exclusive video reenactment and complete story on another post.
I double dog dare you!
And I think my unbuttoned shorts speak for all...

Thursday, August 21, 2008

For all of you Guiness fans...best commercial ever for Guiness. Related to hockey loosely, I know, but hey...it's beer. And beer and hockey go together like Wonderland of Ice and stinky bathrooms