I’m not gonna lie, I can honestly say I’ve literally never envisioned myself winning the Stanley Cup. I’m not entirely sure why, but it probably has something to do with the fact that a. I was a baseball player growing up, b. I’m not a professional hockey player, and c. I don’t work for an NHL team. So to be quite frank, there’s literally no chance in hell I’d ever have the privilege of having my day with the Stanley Cup. Let’s face it, I’m just some asshole who happens to blog about a hockey team that wins the most glorious chalice on planet earth every single year. The closest I’ll ever get to having my day with Lord Stanley is following the Penguins around on Philip Pritchard’s twitter account.
But we’re not talking reality here, ladies and gents. This blog is strictly fictional. You know, kind of like those Harry Potter books. Except a lot less stupid (oops).
So what would I do if for some god forsaken the Penguins decided to give a blogger like me a day with the cup?
Short answer: darty my fucking face off.
Long answer: Unlike some of my fellow Pensbloggers, I think I’d be a little more selfish with the Stanley Cup. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a very gracious gesture to take the Stanley Cup to a hospital or to a local hockey rink for the kids to see, but let’s face it, I’m a blogger. You think those people would be happy to see some guy prancing around with Lord Stanley for a day that sits in his boxers at night and takes shots at a local weatherman for being an asshole fan? Fuck. No.
These people would DESPISE me. I’m probably one of the least deserving Penguins fans to have a day with the cup. But then again, this is fictional. Kind of like those stupid Lord of the Rings books (oops).
So what exactly would I do?
Well, for starters, I’d eagerly await the arrival of the cup at my house the morning of. Perhaps I’d invite a few friends and family members over to have a little breakfast before hand. The menu would be pretty simple – bacon and eggs, lox and bagels, and maybe even some cinnamon buns. I figure by the time our feast comes to an end, Lord Stanley will be arriving with Philip Pritchard and his stupid hair. What better way to wash down breakfast than with bottomless mimosas out of the cup? Can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning. And no, we won’t be eating cereal out of the cup like basic bitches. Stanley will be going on a liquid diet this day.
After breakfast, it’s time to take Stanley out for a little round of golf. I’d invite a few foursomes out to local golf course for a quick 18. The rules would be pretty simple. We’d all play a game of skins while punishing the losers of each hole to beer chugs out of the cup.
Once the shenanigans on the golf course wrap up, it’s time for a little pool party at mom and dad’s new swimming pool. I’d have that shit catered while a DJ blasts some music and everyone hangs out by the pool eating delicious food and drinking fine wine and spirits (beer, too) with Stanley for the rest of the night. It’d be a merry old time that would give a group of degenerates another valid excuse to act like a bunch of drunken fools for a day. That, my friends, is what we call Peep-a-palooza.
Follow me on twitter: @PeepsBurgh.
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