"How much time left?"
There's a reason this review is coming to you so late. I've been waiting for this pic all day taken by my buddy PG during last night's wedding festivities.
Pictured above, FHF faithful Manny B. and Karim K. seconds after the bride and the groom entered the room and began their first dance together.
I should have been handing business cards out last night because after, I'd say, like, 3 quarters of the guys poured out of the reception hall and into the bar at the Mount-Stephen Club midway through the third, most women were left contemplating how quickly they were going to divorce the bums they had married. Thankfully, the groom didn't join in on the fun.
When one of the wives showed up to locate and retrieve her errant husband, I attempted to rescue the man by shouting "Hey! Who turned on the game! Change it back to Desperate Housewives!" That may have made matters worse.
The best thing about going M.I.A. for about 25 minutes is that I got to avoid watching this loss in the middle of the night. I can't offer much of a review because we were all drunk, and nervous and keeping one eye on the screen and the other on the life threatening danger of wife passing by who would inevitably offer us a "What the fuck are you guys doing?!"
My wife rules and actually came in to watch the shootout with me. What you resist persists folks so don't hide from the spouses, just ask them to join you for the fun, otherwise you create an adversarial context that leads to a clash of civilizations that would make Huntington drool.
Squid needs to come up with a new move on the shootout, yes, but the Habs need to find ways to not get there 7 times a week. The Pleks goes wide thing is getting as old as George Burns in 1876. Let's not be too harsh on these boys; as Manny B. and Karim K.'s Blackberry and Ipod will attest, (it will attest 12 or 13 times on a given evening, say during the first dance, during the best man speech - thank the good Lord it wasn't an afternoon game, because scores would have undoubtedly been retrieved in Church and guests would have been excommunicated - I, the only invited Jew, would have been safe though because Jesus can't hurt me because Moses will not let him) the team kept it close for 65 minutes, which is all you can ask for when most of the players are on the mend.
Letting this one slip away with 20 seconds left in the game didn't help us on a night where we tried our darndest to keep things positive in the face of our friends' beautiful commitment to a life together. The party slipped for a few minutes until we realized that on this night, the loss didn't really matter, and we put it all in perspective to immediately grasp the deep significance of the moment we were all celebrating: despite the rash of injuries, the Habs were only 2 points out of a playoff spot.