Showing posts with label i was an embarrassing kid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label i was an embarrassing kid. Show all posts
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
something to believe in
in these turbulent times, when a daily bloggin' girl can get so busy she doesn't touch a computer for 2 1/2 days, the world needs something steady to hold onto. and during dangerous days like these, when five old timers can change the course of american politics by watching a hillary clinton movie, us folks gotta make sure somebody's got our backs... luckily, just when i needed them, the fugly mugs of the '96-'98 detroit red wings showed up - fists flailing - and improved my outlook on life tenfold.
it's probably safe to assume that the majority of my readers were NOT all losery little pre-teendykes tomboys during the scotty bowman days, so imma catch you up...
claude lemieux, of the colorado avalanche, acts like a little bitch and takes a cheap shot on red wing kris draper during the western conference finals of the 1996 stanley cup (the hit is right around the 1:12 mark):
he totally fucks up draper's face, and we don't see our buddy kris again for almost a year... meanwhile, the avalanche take the western conference and go on to win the stanley cup:
the wings and avalanche meet up several times during the 1996-1997 season, but bitch-ass lemieux doesn't dress for any of the games until the fated fight night at the joe. the '97 wings-avalanche brawl is everything hockey, and my life, should be:
so tonight, re-watching these videos, i found myself back in that cloud-themed, baby blue bedroom in which i spent countless nights secretly watching red wings games on my black-and-white television... i love everything about the footage, from mccarty's turtle-making beating on down; but when mike vernon (over whose sudden placement as first string goalie above chris osgood caused me some sleepless nights) landed that left hook on patrick roy and then fell on top of that french canadian bitch, my 9-year-old self knew that my hockey team, and my life, were gonna be just fine.
it's probably safe to assume that the majority of my readers were NOT all losery little pre-teen
claude lemieux, of the colorado avalanche, acts like a little bitch and takes a cheap shot on red wing kris draper during the western conference finals of the 1996 stanley cup (the hit is right around the 1:12 mark):
he totally fucks up draper's face, and we don't see our buddy kris again for almost a year... meanwhile, the avalanche take the western conference and go on to win the stanley cup:
the wings and avalanche meet up several times during the 1996-1997 season, but bitch-ass lemieux doesn't dress for any of the games until the fated fight night at the joe. the '97 wings-avalanche brawl is everything hockey, and my life, should be:
so tonight, re-watching these videos, i found myself back in that cloud-themed, baby blue bedroom in which i spent countless nights secretly watching red wings games on my black-and-white television... i love everything about the footage, from mccarty's turtle-making beating on down; but when mike vernon (over whose sudden placement as first string goalie above chris osgood caused me some sleepless nights) landed that left hook on patrick roy and then fell on top of that french canadian bitch, my 9-year-old self knew that my hockey team, and my life, were gonna be just fine.
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