My good, tender, gentle Lord was that ever a bull blasting beating my brain did not need.
There's this guy I know, and he's pretty cool, and he said this about the Skillz . I don't know about you guys, FHF readers, but I agree with him.
If I could have had a small midget kick me in the balls every six or seven minutes or so to wake me out of my boredom, I would have signed up for the experience.
If I could have taken that singer by the throat and pumped a full gallon of dijon mustard down her pipes, I would have done it. Swiftly.
If I could have asked the league to make that last breakaway event A TAD FUCKING SHORTER, I would have sent the fax.
Did you happen to catch Brain Burke give that interview on CBC? If you had to sum up his answer about the state of the all-star game, it would sound like this: IT'S A GAME! A FUCKING MEANINGLESS GAME! ENJOY THIS FUCKING MEANINGLESS GAME! JEEEESUS JUST WATCH THIS CRAPPY SHITTY FUCKING EMBOLISM OF A GAME AND SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLE! IT'S A GREAT GAME! IT'S A GREAT FUCKING, BORE ME TO MY GRAVE, FESTIVAL OF A GAME! SO JUST SIT YOUR FAT ASS DOWN AND LET ME WATCH THIS ENTRAIL EXPLODING FUCKING EXCUSE FOR A FUCKING HOCKEY GAME!!!
Then he smiled:
Lord, thank you for Sunday which was actually enjoyable. Thank you for Alex Kovalev and his redeeming powers. Thank you for his ability to rescue the NHL from a disastrous Saturday.
I remember now why I don't miss puberty. I was awkward looking, I was NOT having sex, and I was NOT having sex.
That's what Saturday felt like, like NOT having sex all over again.
Sunday, we were makin' sweet luuv again.