OK, the game starts at 8:00 Eastern time, which is 7 central, and we're in St. Louis, which is central time, so the Wings need to come in at 7 eastern just to be sure, which means that they'll actually start playing some hockey at 8E/7C which they will think is the beginning of the second period, but will actually be the start of the game.
Now all we have to do is convince them that there are 4 periods of hockey and that they need to play all the way through, and we're gold.
Once upon a time, Homer Simpson spanked your girlfriend's cat with a hockey puck. It broke the cat's tail although it was made of grease from Detroit Red Wings players kicked. Makes no sense because it didn't sound like a fart. It echoed loudly across the rink and hit Bettman in his balls. Then the wings annihilated the pink wussies and the hawks from Chicago. Meanwhile, Spongebob killed Patrick because he thought Sandy was pissed off at Mr. Krabs for breaking his testicles. The Flanders said HOMER! pray for my sweaty armpits. They decided that Bush was a terrorist because blood was flowing out from Squidward's nostrils. Apu found candy canes shoved deeply down Pamela Anderson's cleavage. Pamela Anderson had Mozart's cravings for alcohol. Jay Leno lifted up Pamela's latex outfit up so he could salivate at her candycanes. Then fire erupted from her fabulous sphincter torching Stoney's big hairy eyebrows. Then we are talking garbunkle with simon. Jack said wassup people? Peter picked pie eyed Susan who baked cookies in the Netherlands while drinking beer from the bar. She decided marriage was not ever going to do drugs, so when she died nobody gave a rats ass. After that, Peter Griffin ate sushi and barfed uncontroably jumping on Bugs Bunny's whiskers and tickeled his zippidy-doo-dah. Bugs was pissed and shot peter in the ass and caused a prolapsed anus. Bugs called your Orthodontist for killing his ***** because she chewed furry cheese puffs while doing Yoga. Meanwhile, Spiderman loaned sugar sprinkles to Batgirl for her knockers.
"Those enforcers will tear Batgirl's codpiece, causing rabid fantasies about Hossa's pencil sharpener exploding into magical shards", shouted Babs. Indubitably, wax paper tastes a lot similar to a prolapsed anus. Magic Johnson showed clairvoyance bending hockey sticks toward the head of Bettman shaped like potatoes. Instinctively, Homer blocked the potato masher smashing pumpkins flat.
Pronger smells like hot ass and Cheetos when baking yakburgers. Clod LePew made greasy stains on Pronger's epidermis, which glowed and sparkled brilliantly. Meanwhile, rabbits with leprosy scratch Turtle's testicles causing (the) oozing puss to coagulate and form crusty underwear clinging to his dangling chin.
Revolted, disgusted, and perplexed, Batgirl annihilated Turtle's mucus membrane with cereal, which tasted like roast kangaroo.
Round 1 was the Blue Jackets smelling Osgood's gassy fuel line of a 1985 Zamboni. My obstacle doesn't involve anything resembling a high jump. Whenever tornadoes cry about sunny afternoons, llamas yell obscenities at tourists, while spitting at organic pinecones. Botanists agree, acorns are understandably harder than pinecones.
Kronwall nailed Dawn approximately 2/3 of what LetsGoWings posters approved for but never hurt her melons. That damned Kronwall knows turnovers better than Grandma knows my hidden corset agenda. Next time Kronwall better stick John Keating's microphone into the oversized entrance of Holmstrom's locker buddy's Gopher.
If Jenny G(ranholm) knew how Kronwall had cooked beans with Lilja she would have sauteed horseradish in sauerkraut. Gagging on molasses Karen discovered that Bertuzzi had spiked his lemonade with vodka. (Sponges can hold gravel only when they are saturated) Usually Kronwall likes meatballs up in Traverse City but the weather wasn't conducive to meatball masterpieces.
Chunt shouldn't (or maybe "shoont") eat Lilja's sausage stroganoff because he'll snort from his flared nostrils. Legalized marijuana rocks. Zamboni driver telethons while raising octopi for charity, causing relief to Twister players in heat. Chocolate bunnies taste smelly after soaking in dimethyl-ether. Blueberry pie smells wonderful while eating with in-laws on Thursdays. The car rolled down the volcano and farted.
Apartments divided into separate units are considered adequate housing. Dandylions sprout uncontrolled dimples that gratify Colin Campbell's poor excuse for biased hog-calling. Cactii are bold, painful stickers smelling rancid.
Datsyuk loves Homer's butt because aromas cause interference, pissing goaltenders off so bad they weep while finishing trying ballroom dancing. Iginla's nosehairs replicate extended hair weaves that trap bogeys. Toenail clippers should always be sterilized because Hudler chews his turkey with his mouth open. Holidays can transcend pitiful road rage if Mike Illitch offers money to Ice Girls.
Little did Kronwall know, Illitch had announced Byfuglien's teeth were radioactively infesting Don Cherry. So Kronwall enlisted many dental hygienists plucking Byfuglien's eyebrows. Chris Osgood's humor caused riots after he mentioned sniffing Holmstrom's boxing gloves after they fell on Hudler's cocopuffs.
Babcock's bacon and eggs are cooked with grease because he loves fattening his hair follicles. Joe Louis Arena's lack of proper beer smells fishy when Batman serves Molson to Murphy, who always drinks dollar priced Molson's. Batman smells Kronwall's whitewalls after rotating his flowers in Holmstrom's crease. Winter sucks.
Plumbing shouldn't cost laylillions more than twelve reconditioned goalies. Ben-*** applying for groin issues should be considered brilliant. Some naysayers will try impertinent claims that peanutbutter could infiltrate your molecular structure balloons. Helium inhalation causes extremely serious apparitions to appear who jinx everyone's luck. Now divulges many dirty secrets kept by goalkeepers from Lithuania singing "Halleluia". Lilja played guitar off-key because magnanimous interpreters couldn't fathom enormous Swedes unormous sense of boogers in cotton balls with mayonaise.
Christmas warms hearts and beer guts with fishing poles dangled in vats of smelly from Holmer's butt. Due to holiday carnage, the Wings ate horsepoo cupcakes with marinara sauce.
Relaxing takes ridiculous effort, but not when unicorns hastily traverse cold interstates. Fireworks explode loudly before initiation into rapacious wildebeests which masticate crunchy peanut butter and jelly. Broccoli flowers taste marvelous when marshmallow fluff is slathered on thick cheezewhiz. Toenails are Bertuzzi's favourite condiment smells.
Crosby's flaming man-purse costs $500 that Orpik needed for underwear liners. WTH Stuart pads his wallet with tiny photos depicting flaky turnovers. While aerosol cans smell flowery, they usually emit ozone killers and Mexicans. Speaking of "Mexicans", how many can cook frijoles while holding sombreros or playing soccer in the dark?
Music wafts and waffles steam; arias linger inside the Joe.
I'm sad that I missed the saga of Mindfly. I keep seeing his name everywhere but I have no idea who he is.
Sebastian was a Swedish Wings fan who called it as he saw it. The problem was that he saw it through the eyes of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. The glass was not only half-empty, it was ready to fall off the table, shatter into a million pieces, and would probably cut one of the Wings and lacerate something that would keep them out 3-5 months.
He had a subtle sense of humour, but often it didn't go over well. He wasn't politically correct, nor did he respect some things that most people respect even if they don't participate, like religion. He could go off base and off target, but he never meant it badly.
I got to know him because he sent me a PM once to make sure I had not taken a barb the wrong way. I had laughed hysterically. I'm one of those people who will look at the humour and laugh, even if I am the butt of the joke. He had thought so when he typed it, but wanted to make sure.
We became friends. He knew his humour wasn't always well-received.
He would get so much crap from people. When he made a prediction, people would tell him to get off the boards or shut up or whatever. He always took it in stride. It was part of the game to him.
I'm a hamster buff, and Mindfly was like having a hamster. You put him in the ball and let him run around and laugh when he runs into something, and laugh harder when he keeps banging into the same thing over and over again. Then you give him some treats and pet him.
No she just stalks him. She gets up at 4:30 each morning and pays the paper boy a dollar for his paper and delivers it herself. Then she taps his phone line so that every time they order out for dinner, she is the delivery person. She pays for the dinner, but gets reimbursed at the door. Sometimes she arms herself with religious literature and knocks in the name of the Prophetess Trixie, but that hasn't been working very well. Once she pretended to be a shoe salesperson, but she and Ozzie have different size feet, and she was wearing heels, so that didn't work.
She's had her best success delivering singing telegrams. Hey! Dawn! Here's one for you to deliver! (Be sure to do the dance!) Get your Village People on, girl!
Ozzie! The folks down at the Joe- they say Ozzie! Come back! We miss you so. You can play here. We're sure Howard won't mind. 'Cuz you look so good from behind.
Ozzie! All the gals start to sigh- we say Ozzie! Don't get hung out to dry. You're the Oz Man. And we all want to say We hope you feel better today.
It's fun to stop that ol' P-U-C-K. It's fun to stop that ol' P-U-C-K. Tell that bad groin to heal Cuz we all want to feel The way we feel when you're in net.
It's fun to stop that ol' P-U-C-K. It's fun to stop that ol' P-U-C-K.
Ok, I'm tired of writing. You can fade out or just be over come with a fit of the giggles or whatever. Or you can write the rest of the song. Whatever floats your boat.
And maybe take him some carnations. Red and white ones. In the shape of a jersey with number 30 on the back. That'd be cool too.
^^^ What she said, plus they're reporters, and they're bound by the laws of libel. If, by some remote chance, they report on a case and call the person the anything that insinuates that he did it, and the person is found innocent, the person can sue.
Not at all likely in this case, but they're covering their butts by just having it as a blanket policy.
It doesn't bother me. A guilty person is a guilty person whether they have been proven or not, and no matter what we call them. Even if the court somehow finds them not guilty (again, not likely at all in this case), if they did it, they will answer for it in the end.
I'm not a vindictive person, but I do believe that it all comes out in the wash. I hope for mercy, because I know what I've done in my life, and wrong is wrong. I don't believe in little or big. It's just wrong is wrong.
This guy will get what's coming to him, one way or the other, no matter what the papers say about him.
Why do boys think it's attractive to walk around with their pants hanging down so far that it looks like they took a dump and are wandering around with it between their knees until they can get to the bathroom?
My little Johan makes me smile. When I take him out of his ball, I put him on my chest and let him run a bit. He always takes a bite of my shirt and tries to take it into the ball with him- while I'm wearing it!
When I got him, I had cut a piece out of an old t-shirt as a bankie. It helps the animal get to know your smell so it gets used to you faster. His old one was so worn that I threw it out a long time ago. I had another shirt get ruined at work this week, so I made him a new bankie. I came home this morning, and he was sleeping cuddled up to it.
So cute. Just when I need a reason to go on, my little guy comes through for me.