Hey kiddos! You’ve probably been worried sick about what you’re gonna do since your pal JR hasn’t been on the interwebs so much. I figure I’ll drop by so I don’t have to Twitter as often, and so you can stop sending me requests for Farmville and other Facebook shit.
I recently tried something new to drink. It’s called Bud Light Lime. Anybody who knows me knows I like Bud Light, and the lime’s a nice summer twist. I was surprised at how much I like it since I don’t normally like fruits around my beer—just ask Sean Avery (ZING) (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
Yeah, I know yesterday was Mother’s Day. I was just busy sayin’ hi to my own mom and to all the other moms. All of you are greatness. Except Schultz’s mom, because I left my jacket there one time and when I went to get it, she was all “what jacket?” Liar. Also, Ryan’s mom…well, she knows what she did.
But hey, you’re not here to see me talk smack about people’s moms (even though that’s hilarious.) I’m an analyst now, so here are my reflections on the playoffs so far:
Phoenix Coyotes: I played with your organization twice, and you guys should be ashamed. I hear you guys finally got rid of Wayne Gretzky not too long ago, so that’s nice. He’s a hell of a player, but couldn’t coach a dog to shit on my neighbor’s lawn (ZING). Is it just me, or does Wayne Gretzky look more and more like a middle-aged butch lesbian every week? Him and Steven Tyler— even though Steven Tyler’s more feminine of the two, but he still looks like a retired art teacher or ex-hippie therapist (art therapist?) (Not that there’s anything wrong with lesbians.) I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again—screw Detroit.
Chicago Blackhawks: PATRICK KANE, YOU LOOK HAMMERED ALL THE TIME. Try doing that when you’re forty, and I promise you, you’re gonna have far fewer hot chicks in flannel shirts willing to rid in limos with you. At least you guys got into the playoffs, which is nice, since that looked like a remote possibility leading to the end there. Maybe you kids should respect your elders and go to bed on time more often, so you’re not all tuckered out for real games.
Los Angeles Kings: I played for the Kings? When did that happen? Also, you have a player named Jack Johnson, which just evokes the shitty “acoustic rocker” surfer guy that frat boys pretend to like in an effort to appear sensitive in an attempt to get dumb chicks to sleep with them. In other words, SUCKTACULAR.
Philadelphia Flyers: I don’t blame you for folding against the Bruins. Zdeno Chara is one scary-ass dude, and I’m pretty sure he eats toddlers, which is not cool. Also, Michael Ryder is from Newfoundland, which I think means he’s automatically mildly retarded. I guess he’s one of those high-functioning retards, which is cool.
San Jose Sharks: SCREW DETROIT. Screw them well. Only, don’t actually screw them, because I’m pretty sure that’s how you catch diseases that you treat with a trip to the free clinic.
Now, for my predictions for the final:
BRUINS IN SIX. Why? Because I’m pretty sure Tampa Bay plays in the same league as the Hogwarts Hookensnaargen and the Narnia Obvious Christian Symbols. In other words, this can’t possibly be a real team. This isn’t because Florida’s a warm place that cannot support natural ice, but because I doubt Tampa actually exists. I mean, have you ever known anyone FROM Tampa? That sounds awfully suspicious to me…
SAN JOSE IN 7. Why? Because FUCK DETROIT, that’s why.
Well, that’s about all I have to say. It’s okay to go back to your World of Warcraft or whatever. Nerds.
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