Whew. 82 games, 620 FHF posts. That's alot of snark, bullet points and strippers. My arms are tired. And my brain hurts. And it's not the meth. As our pre-playoffs respite begins Day 2, let's look back at the season that was through the lens of the FHF's Greatest Hits (So Far):And yea, the emails begat the blog and the
blog began. And nay, the people did not read nor comment. And yea, we thought we would chronicle the Habs sucking. That would have been funnier.
And yea, the first half-naked woman
doth appeared for no reason. And there was much rejoicing. The off-season dragged on, we posted
Angelica Bridges. And there was much rejoicing. We signed Breezer. And there was, uh,
less rejoicing.
Panger, looking for an off-season UFA center, descibed Slowinski
as a journeyman, and said "and Gainey ain't looking for no journeymen." If you say so Panger. Koivu had a tough off-season with the press, and HF33 showed
he was the thoughtful one around here. But he quickly put that to rest when he said "Hate brings in traffic. Let them hate" - and
there was
trouble. Later in the season
we hated the Flyers, and the Philly fans were strangely quiet.
As the season approached, the
stripperriffic ratings were born. And we'd never be the same. Yours truly
re Milk Carton Mike in our previews: "He’s the only 'natural' scorer we’ve got." Riiiiight. HF10 had the sense to say
about Big Tits "I think the Habs have a future star on their hands and I can’t wait to see what he can do on a scoring line." Well done sir!
The season started sort of blech, highlighted by an
OT loss to the Leafs. But very soon after,
the Franchise Saviour was born. We were brought back down to Earth by the Sens, and
SLC and
his gambling ways. HF10 cheered us up with some
killer Leafs-bashing disguised as satire, and the FHF revealed its superstitions in the form of
pectoral muscles.
Larry Robinson's #19 was retired, and HF33's mom may or may not have had
sex with him. Later in the year, Bob Gainey's #23
was retired, and the Habs celebrated by
sucking.
The season dragged on through December, and we discovered HF33 was a
Sopranos fan. The Habs were embarassed
by the Wings. The bottom of the barrel had been reached. But could
Little Tits light the way? Pairs of tits would quickly
light the Philly sky.
[[As we pause for a commercial break, like the Oscars, here's the death montage. Quite a sad year for the Habs family, and we treid to always capture their spirit.
John Ferguson.
Sam Pollock.
Tom Johnson.
Kenny Reardon.]]
The New Year brought
Andrei Markov, All-Star. It also brought Mickey Ribs, All-Star.
Fuck you, you fucking ungrateful little fuckity-fuck.
Bob's first-half report gets
lost in the translation. Mom of HF29
tells it like it is after her wonderful yet unmarried and no grandchildren lawyer son takes her to a game. With the Habs beating the Devils, the
impossible was now possible. Talk about impossible -
the FHF had a threeway.
As February began, the Sens continued to
spank us, and our season was turning into a
big fat ass. Especially with
Rhino the purse snatcher. But we were rescued by Big Tits and his "
Orrvechkin" miracle goal. Then
Jaro speek for feerst time, and an internet
sensation was born. And the Habs miraculously came back against the Rangers, and we all knew
we could sleep with the hottest chick in the room.
The
trade deadline came and went, with the Habs
dumping HueT (we miss that "T" *sniff*) and we cried when
Hossa went to the Pens. But the ship stayed afloat, and
HF33 asked world leaders if the Habs were really that good. As March began, a long-awaited win against the Devils showed
we were.
As the season wound down, Habs
headed West and took some time off
to masturbate. We
still couldn't beat the Sens, and had
moments of sucking late into March. But
8-0 against the Broons was a tonic, and we clinched a playoff spot by finally
beating the
Sens. And soon we'd clinch the divsion
the same way. And we clinched the Conference by having an afternoon nap.
And yea,
HF33 begat HF4. And it was good.
See you in the playoffs. Can you fucking believe that? Go hockey.
