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Thursday, December 15, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
New Math, KS style
Interesting
The Strawbs went from a 5-1-1 record to a 7-1-1 record in only 1 game.
Gotta love the game reports!
Thursday, December 08, 2011
Dash Does It
Killer Strawberries 6 Canadian Legends 8
Game Report
December 5, 2011
Record 7-2-2
Finally, after 11 games, Dash Flashinger, the Strawbs’ rookie and beer provider, found the back of the opposition’s net with more than the seat of his pants. It wasn’t a pretty goal, but the best ones never are.
Playing on line with Mayor Maynot, the king of how-dee-doo, and Lil Wagner, whose last pass to a team mate occurred sometime in late October, Dash positioned himself perfectly in front of the Legends’ net. Shiny Shone Brightly let go a tremendous wrister from the blueline and the puck screamed its way to its intermediate destination…the back of Dash’s helmet. The puck quickly changed direction and squirted through the goalie’s legs into the yawning abyss within. The puck was ceremoniously retrieved by an alert Zebra who pocketed it for sale on EBay. Oughta fetch quite a handsome sum.
The game saw the return of Pyjama Man who was escorted to the rink by the lovely Loans Jones. Apparently it was some kind of anniversary and PJM had promised her a nice dinner after the match. And what a dinner I was. The staff at the Terminal Tavren had set up a nice quiet table by the men’s washroom complete with candles and matching table cloth. This was an anniversary Ms. Jones is bound never to forget.
Ms. Jones was not the only fan in attendance. MagGirl, first wife of MagBoy and mother of MagTot, showed up in her best squirrel jacket and puffy boots. The word “glamour” does not begin to describe her sartorial splendour. She could be heard as far away as the Strawbs’ bench, exhorting her man to go “faster, faster, faster.” The line seemed well rehearsed.
Dr. Thug was back and scored a loud marker. Freight Train 444 was relegated to defence where he outshone the Vice (groin injury, elbow injury) and P. Gumbington Pettigrew III (groin, brain and ego injuries). The Ice Marshal wept at the ineptitude.
Post game, the boys and fans raced to the Terminal Tavren to take advantage of any seniors discounts available before 10pm. They were too late, as seniors’ Happy Hour ended at 4pm so that those seniors could get home to bed at a decent hour.
3 Steamwhistle, I gin and tonic, 1 cranteeny, 4 Muskoka Cream, 7 Bud, 6 jugs of water, various pressed-protein delights and the warm memory of Dash’s lost strawberry were consumed.
Monday, December 05, 2011
A New Low
Killer Strawberries 1 Battalion 1
Game Report
November 30, 2011
Record 7-1-2
This game was so indescribably dull that the new paint in the lobby of the Pete Palangio Arenas refused to dry for the benefit of those fans who could not stomach watching the horror show unfolding on ice pad #1.
Pyjama Man must have known a stinker was in the forecast and, consequently, did not bother to show up for the match. And, although he was somewhat present, Sir Gawdawful Gumby, did not bother to show up either. He must have bathed in some kind of super-soporific before gracing the ice complex with a complex of his own.
Gawd was, in the words of a long time Strawbs’ fan, an abomination wrapped in a disgrace. This reporter believes he caught a glimpse of Gawd’s not-so-distant-dotage in which our anti-hero will be shuffling, single-socked and diaper-filled, about his third rate nursing home in search of the remains of his mind.
Not only was he counter-effective on the evening, he and his defence partner, whose own performance lacked more than a smidgeon of je ne sais quoi, took shifts so long that they had to shave each time they returned to the bench. There is gumbying, which is occasionally forgivable, and uber-gumbying, which is never so.
Dash Flashinger continued his frustration, missing frequent opportunities to score his first goal of the year. The Ice Marshal is considering elevating him to a position on his opposite wing in order to help him break out of his scoring virginity. “The kid has ability” stated the team’s handsomest man. “He just needs to move his hero-worship from Uber Gumby to someone, anyone, more appropriate.”
Between the pipes, The Marquis DeSad, finally had a good game, more or less.
After the game, those who played well reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to discuss potential moves before the upcoming trade deadline. But as someone noted” We ain’t gonna get anything for him anyway.”
4 Steamwhistle, 6 Muskoka Cream, 1 Bud, 2 Granville, 5 lbs of chicken scrotums and a lot of head shaking were consumed.
Game Report
November 30, 2011
Record 7-1-2
This game was so indescribably dull that the new paint in the lobby of the Pete Palangio Arenas refused to dry for the benefit of those fans who could not stomach watching the horror show unfolding on ice pad #1.
Pyjama Man must have known a stinker was in the forecast and, consequently, did not bother to show up for the match. And, although he was somewhat present, Sir Gawdawful Gumby, did not bother to show up either. He must have bathed in some kind of super-soporific before gracing the ice complex with a complex of his own.
Gawd was, in the words of a long time Strawbs’ fan, an abomination wrapped in a disgrace. This reporter believes he caught a glimpse of Gawd’s not-so-distant-dotage in which our anti-hero will be shuffling, single-socked and diaper-filled, about his third rate nursing home in search of the remains of his mind.
Not only was he counter-effective on the evening, he and his defence partner, whose own performance lacked more than a smidgeon of je ne sais quoi, took shifts so long that they had to shave each time they returned to the bench. There is gumbying, which is occasionally forgivable, and uber-gumbying, which is never so.
Dash Flashinger continued his frustration, missing frequent opportunities to score his first goal of the year. The Ice Marshal is considering elevating him to a position on his opposite wing in order to help him break out of his scoring virginity. “The kid has ability” stated the team’s handsomest man. “He just needs to move his hero-worship from Uber Gumby to someone, anyone, more appropriate.”
Between the pipes, The Marquis DeSad, finally had a good game, more or less.
After the game, those who played well reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to discuss potential moves before the upcoming trade deadline. But as someone noted” We ain’t gonna get anything for him anyway.”
4 Steamwhistle, 6 Muskoka Cream, 1 Bud, 2 Granville, 5 lbs of chicken scrotums and a lot of head shaking were consumed.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Strawbs Pant To Victory
Game Report
November 24, 2011
Killer Strawberries 8 MNB 4
Record: 7-1-1
Once again, in typical Strawberry fashion, the KS Hockey and Gentlemen’s Club powered its way to victory over a stunned agglomeration of exuberant acne-infested youth who call themselves MNB. It was a good victory and the Strawbs left the ice content: not necessarily because of the win but more because they could hear the MNBers mumbling such niceties as “how did we just get beat by those crusty old farts?” and “if they didn’t have those young guys, we woulda killed them”.
Of course, the start to the evening was, as usual, a comedy of errors. First, Freight Train Laronde, a hulking mass of gentle menace, forgot his hockey pants at home. The team’s trainer advised him he could just let his hockey sweater slide down to his knees but he was reluctant to do so: reluctant because, as the Esquire Man of The Year In Amateur Hockey, he has his sartorial reputation to uphold. So off he skittered to various dressing rooms, dressed simply yet elegantly in his jock and runners, asking strangers to help him out. Once security was advised that his hockey pants were missing, he was able to continue his quest, in the company of said security.
Freight Train did manage to borrow some gear from a visiting Lilliputian and returned triumphant to the dressing room. Unfortunately, the hockey drawers were 15 sizes too small for him. A game of musical pants ensued with Mayor Maynot taking the Lilliputian’s pants, then giving his pants to the Butcher who, in turn gave his sorry excuse for pantaloons to Freight Train. The pants on all three were so tight you could tell at a glance that none of them was Jewish.
Needless to say, our trio of fashion plates had more than some difficulty skating. It was like watching a toddler move about the living room in an odiferous diaper best left handled with elbow length gloves.
As to the rest of the game, this reporter must confess that he did not notice much else, having spent most the evening curled over with fits of laughter. He did notice that the Strawbs’ goalie, the Marquis DeSave, finally ramped up his game to “questionable”, an improvement over “crappy”, “disappointing” and “abominable” which adjectives accurately characterize his 3 previous outings. Perhaps it was the threat of demotion to the Butthole Bottomfeeders, or worse, to the Nasty Cupcakes, which was impetus for his “improved” play.
After the match, the squad holed up at the Terminal Tavren to bask in the glory of another victory; pants off to the Strawbs, this year’s team of destiny.
5 Steamwhistle, 4 Granville, 2 Muskoka Cream, 7 Bud Light, 5 lbs of chicken parts and stories of missing pants, pre and post marriage, were consumed.
November 24, 2011
Killer Strawberries 8 MNB 4
Record: 7-1-1
Once again, in typical Strawberry fashion, the KS Hockey and Gentlemen’s Club powered its way to victory over a stunned agglomeration of exuberant acne-infested youth who call themselves MNB. It was a good victory and the Strawbs left the ice content: not necessarily because of the win but more because they could hear the MNBers mumbling such niceties as “how did we just get beat by those crusty old farts?” and “if they didn’t have those young guys, we woulda killed them”.
Of course, the start to the evening was, as usual, a comedy of errors. First, Freight Train Laronde, a hulking mass of gentle menace, forgot his hockey pants at home. The team’s trainer advised him he could just let his hockey sweater slide down to his knees but he was reluctant to do so: reluctant because, as the Esquire Man of The Year In Amateur Hockey, he has his sartorial reputation to uphold. So off he skittered to various dressing rooms, dressed simply yet elegantly in his jock and runners, asking strangers to help him out. Once security was advised that his hockey pants were missing, he was able to continue his quest, in the company of said security.
Freight Train did manage to borrow some gear from a visiting Lilliputian and returned triumphant to the dressing room. Unfortunately, the hockey drawers were 15 sizes too small for him. A game of musical pants ensued with Mayor Maynot taking the Lilliputian’s pants, then giving his pants to the Butcher who, in turn gave his sorry excuse for pantaloons to Freight Train. The pants on all three were so tight you could tell at a glance that none of them was Jewish.
Needless to say, our trio of fashion plates had more than some difficulty skating. It was like watching a toddler move about the living room in an odiferous diaper best left handled with elbow length gloves.
As to the rest of the game, this reporter must confess that he did not notice much else, having spent most the evening curled over with fits of laughter. He did notice that the Strawbs’ goalie, the Marquis DeSave, finally ramped up his game to “questionable”, an improvement over “crappy”, “disappointing” and “abominable” which adjectives accurately characterize his 3 previous outings. Perhaps it was the threat of demotion to the Butthole Bottomfeeders, or worse, to the Nasty Cupcakes, which was impetus for his “improved” play.
After the match, the squad holed up at the Terminal Tavren to bask in the glory of another victory; pants off to the Strawbs, this year’s team of destiny.
5 Steamwhistle, 4 Granville, 2 Muskoka Cream, 7 Bud Light, 5 lbs of chicken parts and stories of missing pants, pre and post marriage, were consumed.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
What An Effort
Killer Strawberries 8 Mighty Ducks 4
Game Report
November 17, 2011
Record 5-1-1
It didn't look like much and it wasn't.
23 double lite beer and a no foam, low fat latte were consumed
Game Report
November 17, 2011
Record 5-1-1
It didn't look like much and it wasn't.
23 double lite beer and a no foam, low fat latte were consumed
Thursday, November 17, 2011
A Close Shave
Strawbs 5 Turbo Beavers 4
Game Report
November 14, 2011
Record 4-1-1
It may not be Christmas yet, but the Strawbs almost handed an early gift to a team it dominated for 36 of the 40 minutes of game time. At the 16:33 mark of the last period, the Killer Strawberries were leading 5-1. Dr. Thug was having a marvelous game, having scored 2 beauties and lusting after a third. His whoops could be heard in hell each time he slammed the biscuit between the opposition’s pipes.
Freight tain Laronde continued his torrid scoring pace (for him), notching one marker and barely missing on 2 other drives to the lower left corner on the T.Beavers' net. He hasn’t shot this hard since he was in the back seat of his Dad’s Chrysler Imperial following his high school prom.
The D were uncharacteristically effective. The forwards were seen many times glancing to the right to see if they were on the proper bench.
At 16;34, the excrement started to hit the air distribution device. Penalty trouble. Lacksadaisical face off taking. Brain breaks and goalie confusion began their proliferation. The Strawbs barely held on; yet, they put another tick into the win column. It may not have been pretty, but it sure was ugly.
After the match, the squad zipped over to the Terminal Tavren to reacast recent history into a more favourable light. It must be reported that they were more successful in this endeavour than was warranted earlier at Pete Palangio Arenas.
2 Granville, 4 Muskoka Cream, 20 Bud LIght, 4 Steamwhistle, 6 pounds of pulverized poultry and the after-effects of a close shave were consumed.
Game Report
November 14, 2011
Record 4-1-1
It may not be Christmas yet, but the Strawbs almost handed an early gift to a team it dominated for 36 of the 40 minutes of game time. At the 16:33 mark of the last period, the Killer Strawberries were leading 5-1. Dr. Thug was having a marvelous game, having scored 2 beauties and lusting after a third. His whoops could be heard in hell each time he slammed the biscuit between the opposition’s pipes.
Freight tain Laronde continued his torrid scoring pace (for him), notching one marker and barely missing on 2 other drives to the lower left corner on the T.Beavers' net. He hasn’t shot this hard since he was in the back seat of his Dad’s Chrysler Imperial following his high school prom.
The D were uncharacteristically effective. The forwards were seen many times glancing to the right to see if they were on the proper bench.
At 16;34, the excrement started to hit the air distribution device. Penalty trouble. Lacksadaisical face off taking. Brain breaks and goalie confusion began their proliferation. The Strawbs barely held on; yet, they put another tick into the win column. It may not have been pretty, but it sure was ugly.
After the match, the squad zipped over to the Terminal Tavren to reacast recent history into a more favourable light. It must be reported that they were more successful in this endeavour than was warranted earlier at Pete Palangio Arenas.
2 Granville, 4 Muskoka Cream, 20 Bud LIght, 4 Steamwhistle, 6 pounds of pulverized poultry and the after-effects of a close shave were consumed.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Rollin' On
Killer Strawberries 2 Casey’s Chiefs 0
Game Report
November 10, 2011
Record 3-1-1
Finally, after the testing the virtually limitless patience of the Killer Strawberries’ Executive, the Marquis DeSave, who, as of late, has been rustier than Gumby’s boudoir techniques, put in an adequate performance which resulted in a shutout. Unfortunately, his performance infused him with a little too much cockiness…cockiness bordering on effrontery.
In the dressing room following the match, while recalling his on-ice performance in terms which seemed to abuse too many superlatives, the Marquis tried to give some credit to the defensive skills of his team mates. “All the other guys in the league keep telling me that for a team full of shitty old players, we sure win a lot of games” he exclaimed enthusiastically. He was forced to clarify his remark after being towel smacked in the jewels by the team’s elder statesmen.
Despite the impression of the goalie’s ill-chosen words, which words could negatively influence a neophyte unfamiliar with Strawberry history, the team played very well. The defence was cohesive, the Vice didn’t stumble once on his new blades. The Butcher showed startling hand to eye coordination, Gumby gumbied and Shiny shone brightly. Pyjama Man had his best game of the year (the bar was low), probably due to the fact that his main squeeze, the pulchritudinous Miss Loans Jones, was swooning for him in the stands.
Dash Rip Roarin’ extended his shifts to 18 seconds on average, MagBoy repeatedly broke the sound barrier, Mayor Maynot and Lil Wagner played well with each other (on and off the ice) and the Ice Marshal was his magisterial self as he strutted about the frozen pond. Only the refereeing of a small dwarfish egomaniac put any tarnish on the game.
After the match, a coterie of thirsty birds reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to defend themselves against the inevitable taunts expected at every post game session. The gibes were warm and the beer was cold, marking another successful Strawbs’ outing.
5 Granville, 3 Stella, 1 Guinness, 2 Muskoka Cream and some very, very frosty Offside Pale Ale were consumed with relish.
Monday, November 07, 2011
A Dash of Dishwater
Killer Strawberries 6 Drunken Moose 3
Game Report
November 3, 2011
Record 2-1-1
Last night’s 6-3 victory over the Drunken Moose was remarkable for a few reasons. Firstly, it was rife with excellent examples of how to move the puck out of the defensive zone, through the middle, without giving the goalie a heart attack. It is sincerely hoped that Sir Gawdawful Gumby, the Butcher’s new chauffeur, was taking notes.
Secondly, the game showed that it is possible for two brothers to suck badly in the same outing. The Marquis DeSave had better elevate his game soon or he may find himself driving the dog sled powered “bus” for the Strawbs’ farm team’s farm team, the Nasty Cupcakes, a squad notorious for the 3 B’s of Alaskan hockey: brawlin’, beerin’ and buggerin'. The Marquis’ 1/3 brother, Lil Wagner, played with all the nonchalance and ersatz swagger of a baloney sandwich. The Executive suggests he read carefully the fine print of his agreement with the Killer Strawberries Hockey and Gentlemen’s Club to ascertain his options in the light of his two-way contract.
Lastly, the whole shooting match was broadcast live to the team’s HQ at Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu where it was closely watched by the club’s top brass and by the squad’s Advisor Emeritus, the lovely and talented Miss White Go Go Boots. Miss WGGB was in town running a hands-on pole dancing seminar for local girls who have been admitted to the Killer Strawberries Benevolent Finishing School for Wayward Waifs. The team applauds Miss WGGB ‘s unwavering commitment to charitable causes. (next month’s seminar, “Using What Gawd Gave Ya To Make Your Man Happy” is already oversubscribed.)
As for the rest of the game itself, the excitement meter barely registered above “dull as a Vice’s lecture”. Speaking of the Vice, he continued to play valiantly on one elbow,(his good one?) while protecting his other one using advanced Butcher Brophey Repelling Techniques TM.
PJ Man played like his jock was put on wrong, which it was. How you can do something like this is anyone's guess.
R. Chee Bald kept surprising his rotational replacement with unorthodox shifts which consisted in nothing more than going out the forwards’ door, puffing his way to the defencemen’s end of the bench and begging to be let in lest his lungs collapse. In honour of his grit, the Executive has altered his moniker to Dash.
After the match, a prayer meeting was held at the Terminal Tavern. The sacraments of beer and poultry parts were administered with gusto. Someone also reported seeing Baby Cheeses through the kitchen doors.
4 Granville, 2 Muskoka Cream, 2 Guinness, 1 Bud ,2 Stella and 4 pounds of chicken pressed into the form of hockey pucks were consumed.
Game Report
November 3, 2011
Record 2-1-1
Last night’s 6-3 victory over the Drunken Moose was remarkable for a few reasons. Firstly, it was rife with excellent examples of how to move the puck out of the defensive zone, through the middle, without giving the goalie a heart attack. It is sincerely hoped that Sir Gawdawful Gumby, the Butcher’s new chauffeur, was taking notes.
Secondly, the game showed that it is possible for two brothers to suck badly in the same outing. The Marquis DeSave had better elevate his game soon or he may find himself driving the dog sled powered “bus” for the Strawbs’ farm team’s farm team, the Nasty Cupcakes, a squad notorious for the 3 B’s of Alaskan hockey: brawlin’, beerin’ and buggerin'. The Marquis’ 1/3 brother, Lil Wagner, played with all the nonchalance and ersatz swagger of a baloney sandwich. The Executive suggests he read carefully the fine print of his agreement with the Killer Strawberries Hockey and Gentlemen’s Club to ascertain his options in the light of his two-way contract.
Lastly, the whole shooting match was broadcast live to the team’s HQ at Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu where it was closely watched by the club’s top brass and by the squad’s Advisor Emeritus, the lovely and talented Miss White Go Go Boots. Miss WGGB was in town running a hands-on pole dancing seminar for local girls who have been admitted to the Killer Strawberries Benevolent Finishing School for Wayward Waifs. The team applauds Miss WGGB ‘s unwavering commitment to charitable causes. (next month’s seminar, “Using What Gawd Gave Ya To Make Your Man Happy” is already oversubscribed.)
As for the rest of the game itself, the excitement meter barely registered above “dull as a Vice’s lecture”. Speaking of the Vice, he continued to play valiantly on one elbow,(his good one?) while protecting his other one using advanced Butcher Brophey Repelling Techniques TM.
PJ Man played like his jock was put on wrong, which it was. How you can do something like this is anyone's guess.
R. Chee Bald kept surprising his rotational replacement with unorthodox shifts which consisted in nothing more than going out the forwards’ door, puffing his way to the defencemen’s end of the bench and begging to be let in lest his lungs collapse. In honour of his grit, the Executive has altered his moniker to Dash.
After the match, a prayer meeting was held at the Terminal Tavern. The sacraments of beer and poultry parts were administered with gusto. Someone also reported seeing Baby Cheeses through the kitchen doors.
4 Granville, 2 Muskoka Cream, 2 Guinness, 1 Bud ,2 Stella and 4 pounds of chicken pressed into the form of hockey pucks were consumed.
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Late Game Blues
Killer Strawberries 5 Sunnyvale Chargers 5
Game Report-Oct 31, 2011
Record 1-1-1
The Marquis DeSave, fresh from a tropical sojourn in Labrador City, started his first game of the year against a determined squad of Sunnyvale Chargers. To say that he was a little rusty would be like saying that the recent tsunami in Japan was a little wettish. The Marquis struggled with the puck all evening, causing the Strawbs to think it was MagBoy tending the pipes. The Executive is greatly concerned and has been in communication with the ButtFace Bottomfeeders to see if Jesse The Leak might be available on short notice.
Fortunately, it was not the entire Wagner clan who was less than stellar on the evening. Lil’ Wagner continued his torrid scoring pace, notching at least one marker on the evening and setting up 2 others, according to his own recollection of events.
Dr. Felonious Thug crawled out of the woodwork to join the team for his inaugural outing. Apparently, his summer of decadence has leached into his Fall play. He was out breath after tying his skates and was positively asthmatic on the ice. He was sucking for air so hard after each shift, that he almost vacuumed up 3 pucks from the floor of the players’ bench, which, luckily, got stuck on the outside of his cage before they could disappear down his wind pipe.
Gawd continued to attempt the perfection of his "up-the-middle-in-his-own-end” pass without success. Maybe it's time to try the boards. Shiny was impressive in joining the rush, which resulted in numerous excellent scoring opportunities. The Vice was flabby and elbow-challenged. The Butcher was finally on time for a game start but his performance never again reached such heights. Freight Train 444, fresh from knee surgery or something like that, might have scored a goal but, in any event, was certainly a massive presence in the offensive end. Magboy was more than adequate at centre, a position as unfamiliar to him as right wing, left wing or anywhere else on the ice. Mayor Maynot was full of sound and fury, and should have contributed a lot more than he did, given the extensive ice time awarded to him by the coaching staff. Rookie and new team treasurer, R. Chee Bald needs to get his skates sharpened. The Ice Marshal was the game’s first star as chosen by the women in the crowd.
Due to the lateness of the game (11 f*ing pm!!), only a few Strawbs ventured out to the Terminal Tavren. This writer could not make it, as he had to be up by 4am to knit winter mitts for incubator babies in Romania. It has, however, leaked back to him that 2 glasses of ginger ale and a Car Bomb were consumed.
Game Report-Oct 31, 2011
Record 1-1-1
The Marquis DeSave, fresh from a tropical sojourn in Labrador City, started his first game of the year against a determined squad of Sunnyvale Chargers. To say that he was a little rusty would be like saying that the recent tsunami in Japan was a little wettish. The Marquis struggled with the puck all evening, causing the Strawbs to think it was MagBoy tending the pipes. The Executive is greatly concerned and has been in communication with the ButtFace Bottomfeeders to see if Jesse The Leak might be available on short notice.
Fortunately, it was not the entire Wagner clan who was less than stellar on the evening. Lil’ Wagner continued his torrid scoring pace, notching at least one marker on the evening and setting up 2 others, according to his own recollection of events.
Dr. Felonious Thug crawled out of the woodwork to join the team for his inaugural outing. Apparently, his summer of decadence has leached into his Fall play. He was out breath after tying his skates and was positively asthmatic on the ice. He was sucking for air so hard after each shift, that he almost vacuumed up 3 pucks from the floor of the players’ bench, which, luckily, got stuck on the outside of his cage before they could disappear down his wind pipe.
Gawd continued to attempt the perfection of his "up-the-middle-in-his-own-end” pass without success. Maybe it's time to try the boards. Shiny was impressive in joining the rush, which resulted in numerous excellent scoring opportunities. The Vice was flabby and elbow-challenged. The Butcher was finally on time for a game start but his performance never again reached such heights. Freight Train 444, fresh from knee surgery or something like that, might have scored a goal but, in any event, was certainly a massive presence in the offensive end. Magboy was more than adequate at centre, a position as unfamiliar to him as right wing, left wing or anywhere else on the ice. Mayor Maynot was full of sound and fury, and should have contributed a lot more than he did, given the extensive ice time awarded to him by the coaching staff. Rookie and new team treasurer, R. Chee Bald needs to get his skates sharpened. The Ice Marshal was the game’s first star as chosen by the women in the crowd.
Due to the lateness of the game (11 f*ing pm!!), only a few Strawbs ventured out to the Terminal Tavren. This writer could not make it, as he had to be up by 4am to knit winter mitts for incubator babies in Romania. It has, however, leaked back to him that 2 glasses of ginger ale and a Car Bomb were consumed.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Happy Hour
Killer Strawberries 7 Aviation Invasion 3
Game Report
( Record 1-1)
After being beaten handily last week by a team of acne plagued speedmongers, the Killer Strawberries, bolstered by the absence of Dr. Butcher Brophey and others of his ilk, finally got into the win column with an impressive 7-3 victory over a befuddled Aviation Invasion.
The game marked the illustrious debut of Lil’ Wagner, 1/3 brother of the Marquis DeSave, the squad’s probationary goal keeper who has yet to suit up for a match this year. The Marquis’s vision quest to Labrador ends this week and he has threatened to play in the Strawbs’ next game, the Executive willing.
Lil Wagner showed all the determination his lesser sibling lacks and scored 4 goals to cement his spot on the roster for the time being. “It is awful nice to start out the season playing with such excellent linemates “ he mused at the post game press conference. “Mayor Maynot, despite his drinking problem, is a Gary Croteau-type centre. And we all know how good he was. As for the Ice Marshal, well, enough said.”
Pyjama Man continued his frustrating season. “He seems disoriented” noted the team psychiatrist. “Probably too many paint fumes from the renovations to his new house. When it comes to mental constipation, there are a lot of variables to consider."
Despite the victory, there were some worrying signs of the inevitable effects of aging among certain team members. Freight Train Laronde, crashed down, unassisted, onto one of his knees and watched most of the second period from the bench. With all that weight on a single point of impact, he was forced to have his wife, Lazily Lamoan, drive him to Emerg. for a quick look-see. He was cleared for physio and plans to return to form by no later than tomorrow.
MagBoy also played injured, hobbling about the ice surface like a two-legged horse with both good legs sprouting from the same side. Apparently he has been pulling his groin quite a bit over the last month and hopes to stop soon. The Vice was a mess too, nursing a very sore elbow, the condition of which has been exacerbated with his relentless 24 hour care of the newly-minted invalid, his wife and co-dictator, Madame Lachaise. His self-imposed physiotherapy regimen of Guinness consumption out of 20 oz glasses ought to help immensely.
After the game, many thirsty Strawbs reassembled at the Terminal Tavren to engage in some much needed elbow stretching and commiseration.
2 Okanagans, 2 Muskoka Cream Ale, 1 Guinness, 2 Bud Light, 12 warm 50’s, 2 pounds of Shirley MacLain chicken wings and too many injury reminders were consumed.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
The Killer Strawberries Go to the Symphony
The Killer Strawberries attended the symphony on Saturday night, a non-game day. The Butcher's daughter was all the rave with her oboe virtuosity. She obviously didn't get her chops from the old man.
The Butcher's daughter all a-glow in the Strawbs' finest.Tuesday, October 18, 2011
0-1
Game Report
October 17, 2011
Killer Strawbs 5 Barn Muckers 8
It was a less than auspicious debut for the Killer Strawberries in their first game of the season against the Barn Muckers. They started the schedule while missing several players of dubious morals and commitment. The Marquis DeSave was screeched-in in Newfoundland where he had flown at the last minute to meet some bimbo he had met on the internet. Word has it that he was less than enamoured with Tiffany Smallwood, a toothless, transvestite hooker from Corner Brook. “I just couldn’t get over the mustache” was all he could muster in his most recent Tweet.
Dr. Thug, Concussion Canada’s Poster Boy of the Decade, was a no show. He didn’t call. He didn’t write. He didn’t email. Rumour has it that he was clipping his grandmother’s toenails as her 125th birthday gift and, somehow in all the excitement, lost track of time.
The 2 rookies drafted by the team’s scouts, the lovely Olsen twins, failed to appear. As penance, they have been ordered to help Gawd complete the move-in to his new residence just down the road from the Butcher. “I’ve only had 45 days to get settled” whined the “never-on-time” rearguard. “Besides, I’ve been sharing recipes and gardening tips with my new neighbours’ wives, and we all know how much time that can take.” It is fully expected that, with the rookies’ help, he will have a least 2 more boxes uncrated by Christmas, 2012.
On the ice, nothing really exciting happened, as the Strawbs did their best impressions of opium-addled flies caught in a spider’s web. Except for Mayor Maynot (and Shiny for the first 2 minutes of the game), the top speed recorded in the game was 12 miles per hour, which was the speed the Butcher reached as he crossed the ice to start the game. Dr. Bonehead was the first to arrive at the arena and the last to get to the bench before the puck was dropped. He blamed his tardiness on a recalcitrant bowel movement which left him grunting and squeezing helplessly in the public water closet. Being a world renowned mathematician, he worked it out with a pencil. On a positive note, Freight Train Laronde scored his first marker in a century, a beautiful knuckler from 45 feet out.
After the game, a small sprinkling of Strawbs reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to compare shortcomings. The discussion ended around 2:15am with a lot of territory left to cover.
41 Leaf Trail Pumpkin Ale, a mickey of Aqua Velva, 3 pounds of Avril Lavigne chicken wings and the memory of one rather unpleasant giveaway at the blueline were consumed.
October 17, 2011
Killer Strawbs 5 Barn Muckers 8
It was a less than auspicious debut for the Killer Strawberries in their first game of the season against the Barn Muckers. They started the schedule while missing several players of dubious morals and commitment. The Marquis DeSave was screeched-in in Newfoundland where he had flown at the last minute to meet some bimbo he had met on the internet. Word has it that he was less than enamoured with Tiffany Smallwood, a toothless, transvestite hooker from Corner Brook. “I just couldn’t get over the mustache” was all he could muster in his most recent Tweet.
Dr. Thug, Concussion Canada’s Poster Boy of the Decade, was a no show. He didn’t call. He didn’t write. He didn’t email. Rumour has it that he was clipping his grandmother’s toenails as her 125th birthday gift and, somehow in all the excitement, lost track of time.
The 2 rookies drafted by the team’s scouts, the lovely Olsen twins, failed to appear. As penance, they have been ordered to help Gawd complete the move-in to his new residence just down the road from the Butcher. “I’ve only had 45 days to get settled” whined the “never-on-time” rearguard. “Besides, I’ve been sharing recipes and gardening tips with my new neighbours’ wives, and we all know how much time that can take.” It is fully expected that, with the rookies’ help, he will have a least 2 more boxes uncrated by Christmas, 2012.
On the ice, nothing really exciting happened, as the Strawbs did their best impressions of opium-addled flies caught in a spider’s web. Except for Mayor Maynot (and Shiny for the first 2 minutes of the game), the top speed recorded in the game was 12 miles per hour, which was the speed the Butcher reached as he crossed the ice to start the game. Dr. Bonehead was the first to arrive at the arena and the last to get to the bench before the puck was dropped. He blamed his tardiness on a recalcitrant bowel movement which left him grunting and squeezing helplessly in the public water closet. Being a world renowned mathematician, he worked it out with a pencil. On a positive note, Freight Train Laronde scored his first marker in a century, a beautiful knuckler from 45 feet out.
After the game, a small sprinkling of Strawbs reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to compare shortcomings. The discussion ended around 2:15am with a lot of territory left to cover.
41 Leaf Trail Pumpkin Ale, a mickey of Aqua Velva, 3 pounds of Avril Lavigne chicken wings and the memory of one rather unpleasant giveaway at the blueline were consumed.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
Recruiting
The Executive has been on a recruiting mission of late for "staffers" at the Aloha Baby Compound East. Interested applicants can contact the Executive on site.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Swwwwing!
Yesterday marked the 5th Annual Killer Strawberries Invitational Golf Tournament at the incredibly difficult and often surly Osprey Links. Seventeen hackers, slashers, semi-pros, recidivists and boulevardiers competed for Strawb golf supremacy in the Grand Richard and Grande Richarde divisions.
First out were the never-champion Vice who had squeezed himself into his once well-fitting, self designed golfwear, 2008 champion Dr. Butcher Brophey, P. Eng., MBA, PhD, LMNOP, and 2009 champion Shiny Shone Brightly, now Principal at St. Gertrude’s School for Wayward Girls. All 3 players got off to magnificent starts, with each of them clearing the women’s tees by several yards.
Next up was a foursome led by Jesse The Leak, tax auditor and two time Goalie of The Year in the Canadore Intramural Hockey League,as chosen by his Mom. With him was his younger brother, Mitch Match, whose apperarance at the Invitational was designed to get him a tryout with the Strawbs for next season. It must be pointed out that his golf attire, consisting as it did of a lime green checkered golf-like shirt, ¾ length suede corduroy hicking shorts, black nylon knee highs and shoes stolen from some dead clown did nothing to enhance his chances. Also in the group were brewmaster Magboy still stinking of the strained beets and carrots he attempted to shove down MagTot’s throat at lunch, and 2010 Defending Champion, Vinnie B. Weedwacker who more than re-earned his moniker with a fine outing of pond-edge manicuring.
The third group, by far the handsomest , consisted of Slickery McMillan who beat his balls so hard off the tee that most of them jumped from his bag and committed suicide in the pond on #3; Snowtop O’Farrell who played the best golf of his life, easily breaking 100 for the nine; Achilles Perron who started out with a brilliant 9 on the first hole, only to birdie the second; and the inaugural 2007 Champion, still remembered by every pretty girl who ever met him, the august Ice Marshal himself.
La Grande Richarde group followed and it was not pretty, what with 3 Alpha females competing in the same group for the top wymyn’s prize. This is not to say that the members were not pretty. You couldn’t stuff more pretty into a threesome. Luscious Lori,(defending and 2 time champion), the Siren of Brockville (SOB, 2009 champion) and Glasgow Glamour (2000 Scottish Tea Brewing Champion) clawed their ways through nine holes while fighting like feral cats in a bag of full of catnip, much to the delight of threesome fans everywhere.
In the last (or deadbeat) group, came a sad collection of humanity, more to be pitied than scorned. With no real golfer in the group, the lads had to entertain themselves with stories of their glorious, imagined pasts just to take their senescent minds off rapidly mounting stroke counts. Dr. Thug, fresh from writing son Richard’s entrance essay into Pharmacy at U of T, Gawdawful Gumby, fresh from 3 night’s luxury accommodation in a comfy ditch at Voyageur Daze, and Moses Mclean, who recently celebrated his 60th birthday with a tour of Casselhome, finished off the field and dragged their butts back to the clubhouse just before midnight.
All golfers, except Mitch Match who had some kind of life threatening blister on his ass, then re-assembled at the team’s new watering hole, the Moose. Wings were ordered and gobbled, beer and wine flowed and the day’s highlights recounted with more than a dash of bovine droppings. Because it was too loud in the boozery, all attendees, including the non-golfing Mrs. Jo B. Weedwacker, scurried out to the parking lot for the awards ceremony.
The Ice Marshal presided presidentially from the tailgate of the Vice’s 1942 Ford pickup. Dr. Thug was thanked for bringing all the past receipts from the Moose which he was delegated to collect on behalf of the team. The Moose gave the Strawb’s the equivalent of 15% of the total receipts, as a token of their appreciation for Strawb patronage. What they didn’t appreciate was Dr. Thug’s attempt to slide in few dubious receipts, among which were found a $526 bill from the San Francisco based La Senza For Gay Doctors and Their Ilk Shopping Emporium.
La Grande Richarde was handed out to the Siren of Brockville who used the occasion to slander her opponents in a manner unauthorized in the Killer Strawberry constitution. The Grand Richard ( the Big Dick, for those whose French peaked in grade 1)was ceremoniously conferred on co-winners Slickery McMillan and Shiny Shone Brightly. A lovely photo of the champions sharing the green-brown jacket can be seen somewhere below or above or maybe not all all.
All in all it was a fine day.
500 chickens died for Strawberry pleasure.
Killer Strawberries Golf - July 28, 2011
The Strawbs enjoyed yet another fabulous day of frivolity and camaraderie on the links, at the pub and in the parking lot.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
The Ice Marshall on Vacation
The Ice Marshall naps after entertaining the Olsen twins at the Compound.
The birth of a new batch of KSBA
26 pounds of fresh strawberries - check
Mag Boy preps the kettle - check
the mixture ready - check
Dave receives last minute instructions from the Executive - checkSaturday, July 23, 2011
Annual KS Golf Event
The Killer Strawberries, alumni and guests will be hitting the links, Osprey Links, this Thursday, July 28 at 3pm to contest the "grande Richard." C'mon out for some hilarity!!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Killer Strawberries on Tour - The Voyageur Route
The Vice and G.A.W.D. pose at the conclusion of the trip.
The Butcher and G.A.W.D. celebrate the end.
Cheers!
The Vice and Freight Train on Elm Point of the Mattawa River before breaking camp on the final leg of the Voyageur Canoe Trip.Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Killer Strawberries do the Voyageur Route
The Butcher, Freight Train, the Vice and G.A.W.D. looking fresh after a 3 day canoe trip from Trout Lake down the Mattawa River to Samuel de Champlain Provincial Park. An Uber Excellent adventure. More photos to follow.Saturday, June 11, 2011
The Desert Blooms
Wow! Not only are Killer Strawberry affiliates producing beer in massive quantities, it would appear that baby production has also been high on certain members' agendas.
Samara Desert and Warrin' Peace are the newest parents in the Strawbs'universe. Kirsten Valeria Adrianna was born on June 2, 2011 and weighs about a quarter ounce. According to Warrin' Peace as he was interviewed by the local press as he exited the Garage of Bad Ideas, "After cutting her own umbilical cord, she walked out of her mother's womb, did a cartwheel and made herself a grilled cheese sandwich." Great things are expected of her.
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
The Vice's Vices
You get a phone call in the middle of the night from your buddy telling you to show up for a vice-filled afternoon. After checking whether you have to go to work within the next 3 days and find out that you don't, you agree to rendezvous. And this is what can happen.
Hookers, cocaine and some bad stuff too!
Friday, June 03, 2011
Strawbs on the Limks
There's a bit more "evil" going on here than meets the eye as the Vice, the Ice Marshal and Strawb "gone to seed" Viking Ericson rest between holes.Thursday, June 02, 2011
Magtot Pops out
Next generation Strawb Emerges From Womb
The Immaculate Conception of MagTot Buchwald came to fruition earlier this month (date withheld for privacy reasons) as MagGirl gave birth to a whopping 14 pounder in the outhouse of her parents' cottage in Restoule, On. "We had to use the outhouse" claimed proud dad MagBoy. "All the local inns were booked and there has been a dreadful shortage of mangers."
MagGirl survived the ordeal with nary a scratch and had to be informed that MagTot had been birthed 5 minutes earlier. Apparently his arrival conflicted with her Appletini Hour, a habit she developed over the last couple of years to ease her afternoon boredom. MagBoy' though, fainted at least four times, not because of the trauma of childbirth, the cruel words of his birthing wife or the odour emanating from the outhouse holding pit. It was more of a "there goes my spare time" type of thing.
MagTot, or MagNolian as he is being called at home, has already been signed up for power skating, power biking and power brewing. His future looks bright.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Pitchers Poured
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
KSBA for the next gathering
Folks it looks like this popular sud is making another appearance soon.
This time you can expect a much more clear presentation of the KSBA.
See here, A glass of un-fermented ale. The expert tasters may get their wish. A perfect taste and clear presentation. Once this is ready in 3 weeks it will be a show stopper, or maybe just a limb stopper after say 5.
This time you can expect a much more clear presentation of the KSBA.
See here, A glass of un-fermented ale. The expert tasters may get their wish. A perfect taste and clear presentation. Once this is ready in 3 weeks it will be a show stopper, or maybe just a limb stopper after say 5.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Powered By The Fumes Of A Glorious Past
Killer Strawberries 6 Longshafts 2
Game Report
March 14, 2011
Wildly cheered on by its most devoted fan, Miss Loans Jones resplendent in furs and jewels from head to toe, the Killer Strawberries rammed their way to a hard fought Bronze Medal in the Canadore Intramural Hockey league.
It was a subdued but very serious dressing room before the game as the Strawbs discussed game strategy and helped each other get attired for the match. Shanky VI, the team’s newest good luck amulet, stood erect in the centre floor garbage pail, radiating good vibes and greetings from the unknown ether of cosmic fortune. The Grip of Shame cowered in the corner and seemed to know full well that nobody was about to lay claim to it by putting in anything less than a total effort.
The match started out with some pretty bad omens. On to the ice sauntered North Bay’s finest referees, both of whom appeared to be laboring under the triple threat of myopia, dyspepsia and simmering rage. They promptly called the Strawbs for some marginal obstruction in which Butcher Brophey, fresh from his stint with the 7th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital in Kandahar, bloodlessly removed an appendix from an opposing player. The Strawbs killed off the penalty. The zebras countered with 2 more calls of the dubious variety. The Strawbs weathered the storm.
Then, they went into hyperdrive. MagBoy buzzed about like a raging toro who had spent the afternoon quaffing uppers, speed and RockStar by the gallon. Slickery used his laser to net 3 beauties, shredding the mesh in the process. Pyjama Man spit off the funk which has dogged him like a bad smell for too long and tallied an important marker at a crucial part of the game, sending Loans Jones into flights of barely controlled hysteria. Shifty Drouin notched up his game to SuperStrawb™ level and may even have scored. Mayor Maynot hurtled himself full tilt into every fray and he may have scored. The Ice Marshal, suffering from arthritis, melanoma and halitosis, metaphorically polished off the metal plate in his skull and played better than Gumby had predicted. Gumby gumbied. The Vice obstructed with the finesse of a player half his age and IQ. Achilles cast off the lingering lethargy of his pre-game nap to perform steadily at his defensive position. The Butcher butchered bloodlessly and compassionately, even though his eyes said “kill”.
In net, the Marquis DeSave showed why he was awarded a life time contract (or as long as he remains at the pleasure of the large foreheads on the Executive, whichever comes first). He looked 3 times his normal size, zipping from one side of the net to another, a spaced out butterfly crazed on testosterone. Snap went his glove, crack went his stick, boom went his brain. What a performance!
In the dressing room post game, Shanky VI was smothered in wet kisses, champagne was quaffed like it was New Year’s Eve in Pissuptown, butts were fondled with towel whips and MagBoy threw up in the garbage can. The Grip of Shame was beaten into moccasins with Shanky VI and everyone took home a new pair of slippers.
After the game, the team sped off to the Galaxy Theatre to catch the last 5 minutes of the cult classic Shaving Ryan’s Privates, the war movie the Executive has used in the past to rally the troops. Then it was off to Terminal Tavren to bask in the fumes of the Glorious Present and to once again harangue, in absentia, Shiny Shone Brightly and Dr. Thug, Mr. and Mrs. No Contribution.
45 Guinness, 74 Steamwhistle, 32 Lake of Bays, 43 Bloodthisty, 1 Appletini, and the never-old pleasure of a playoff medal were consumed.
Game Report
March 14, 2011
Wildly cheered on by its most devoted fan, Miss Loans Jones resplendent in furs and jewels from head to toe, the Killer Strawberries rammed their way to a hard fought Bronze Medal in the Canadore Intramural Hockey league.
It was a subdued but very serious dressing room before the game as the Strawbs discussed game strategy and helped each other get attired for the match. Shanky VI, the team’s newest good luck amulet, stood erect in the centre floor garbage pail, radiating good vibes and greetings from the unknown ether of cosmic fortune. The Grip of Shame cowered in the corner and seemed to know full well that nobody was about to lay claim to it by putting in anything less than a total effort.
The match started out with some pretty bad omens. On to the ice sauntered North Bay’s finest referees, both of whom appeared to be laboring under the triple threat of myopia, dyspepsia and simmering rage. They promptly called the Strawbs for some marginal obstruction in which Butcher Brophey, fresh from his stint with the 7th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital in Kandahar, bloodlessly removed an appendix from an opposing player. The Strawbs killed off the penalty. The zebras countered with 2 more calls of the dubious variety. The Strawbs weathered the storm.
Then, they went into hyperdrive. MagBoy buzzed about like a raging toro who had spent the afternoon quaffing uppers, speed and RockStar by the gallon. Slickery used his laser to net 3 beauties, shredding the mesh in the process. Pyjama Man spit off the funk which has dogged him like a bad smell for too long and tallied an important marker at a crucial part of the game, sending Loans Jones into flights of barely controlled hysteria. Shifty Drouin notched up his game to SuperStrawb™ level and may even have scored. Mayor Maynot hurtled himself full tilt into every fray and he may have scored. The Ice Marshal, suffering from arthritis, melanoma and halitosis, metaphorically polished off the metal plate in his skull and played better than Gumby had predicted. Gumby gumbied. The Vice obstructed with the finesse of a player half his age and IQ. Achilles cast off the lingering lethargy of his pre-game nap to perform steadily at his defensive position. The Butcher butchered bloodlessly and compassionately, even though his eyes said “kill”.
In net, the Marquis DeSave showed why he was awarded a life time contract (or as long as he remains at the pleasure of the large foreheads on the Executive, whichever comes first). He looked 3 times his normal size, zipping from one side of the net to another, a spaced out butterfly crazed on testosterone. Snap went his glove, crack went his stick, boom went his brain. What a performance!
In the dressing room post game, Shanky VI was smothered in wet kisses, champagne was quaffed like it was New Year’s Eve in Pissuptown, butts were fondled with towel whips and MagBoy threw up in the garbage can. The Grip of Shame was beaten into moccasins with Shanky VI and everyone took home a new pair of slippers.
After the game, the team sped off to the Galaxy Theatre to catch the last 5 minutes of the cult classic Shaving Ryan’s Privates, the war movie the Executive has used in the past to rally the troops. Then it was off to Terminal Tavren to bask in the fumes of the Glorious Present and to once again harangue, in absentia, Shiny Shone Brightly and Dr. Thug, Mr. and Mrs. No Contribution.
45 Guinness, 74 Steamwhistle, 32 Lake of Bays, 43 Bloodthisty, 1 Appletini, and the never-old pleasure of a playoff medal were consumed.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Bombed by Bosheviks
Game Report
March 3, 2011
Strawbs 4 CCCP 11
Last night, the Killer Strawberries played above the pay grade and got bombed 11-4 by a much better team. They kept it close for the first period, with the score 5-4 for the Bolsheviks after 20 minutes of whiplash. Then deluge began and mercifully ended with the last buzzer.
The boys went out to the Terminal Tavren afterward to point out each other's weaknesses and faux paws (yes, paws). They had left their real paws at home, and these paws are not to be confused with the pause they took for the whole second period, which pause had its own faux pas. They blamed their pause and faux pas on their biological Pas, none of whom was present at the game.
36 Dad's root beers were consumed without any noticeable pause. "Pas de pause" as the French so eloquently put it.
March 3, 2011
Strawbs 4 CCCP 11
Last night, the Killer Strawberries played above the pay grade and got bombed 11-4 by a much better team. They kept it close for the first period, with the score 5-4 for the Bolsheviks after 20 minutes of whiplash. Then deluge began and mercifully ended with the last buzzer.
The boys went out to the Terminal Tavren afterward to point out each other's weaknesses and faux paws (yes, paws). They had left their real paws at home, and these paws are not to be confused with the pause they took for the whole second period, which pause had its own faux pas. They blamed their pause and faux pas on their biological Pas, none of whom was present at the game.
36 Dad's root beers were consumed without any noticeable pause. "Pas de pause" as the French so eloquently put it.
Friday, March 04, 2011
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Better Shorthanded
Killer Strawberries 7 Sunnyvale 2
Game report
February 24, 2011
The Killer Strawberries should play all of their games shorthanded, if last evening’s tussle against the swift skating Sunnyvale Chargers is any indication. Bolstered by the absence of Butcher Brophey (lower body injury-member in zipper), the squad held its own in the first period, holding the opposition to under 100 shots.
Early in the second frame, with the score notched at 2-2, the team shifted into its seldom-used but highly effective “Penalty Box” strategy. The idea is to stuff the Sin Bin with its fattest, slowest, dimmest players so that those who can actually play the game above turtle-speed can get more ice time. Since it is a smallish penalty box and goalie equipment is rather bulky, only 10 players could be put on the list of “stuffers”.
With the boys piled on top of each other beside the poor timekeeper who needed four hands to keep wandering paws from using the Braille method to determine the colour and shape of her unmentionables, real heroes like MagBoy, IMW, Shifty and Mayor Maynot potted three beauties in short order. At least this is what the scoresheet said after IMW had a look at it. How IMW scored from the penalty box is anyone’s guess but it may have had something to do with his offer to help out the timekeeper while he awaited his sentence to expire. It is a trick he may have learned from Rob “The Torch” Greenfield, aka The Vice, who always volunteers to set and interpret all rules when games are played at his Compound For Minor Vice, the only dual dictatorship in the Western Hemisphere.
The Marquis DeSave was efficient and workmanlike between the pipes, as he used every available millimeter of his equipment to advantage. “You don’t win 2 consecutive NDA championships without good goalie gear” he mused after the game to anyone who would bother to listen.
The line of Slickery, MagBoy and Mayor Maynot was especially dangerous, at both ends of the ice. Pyjama Man continued his scoring funk, having last tallied in a 2010 charity match against a PeeWee C- squad, BLBCBW (Blind Lesbian Biker Chicks in Broken Wheelchairs), a small pickup team from Togo.
Achilles Perron played the match paired with the inimitable Gumby (first name of Gawdawful) and has advised the Executive that, should such a pairing occur again, he would rather Gumby be limited to patrolling the end of the bench while he (Achilles) is on the ice.
For his part, P, Gumbington Pettigrew III lived up to his moniker. The one good play he made (and we are rounding up to call it “good”) had him sending a speeding charger on an aerial mission through the 8 feet of empty space between said player and the net, with the journey concluding rather abruptly against an unforgiving near post. The move got him 3 minutes in the box, and the Strawbs used those 3 minutes to pot another goal.
The final score was 7-2. The Strawbs now face the CCCP Bolsheviks in a best of 2 semi-final. It is expected to be a barn burner, whatever that is. Maybe Rob “The Torch” knows.
After the game, the club reconvened for some sudsy libation at the Terminal Tavren, new home to Shifty and Shiny’s Wings, wings double fried in reprocessed lard, canola oil and salted butter, wrapped in lean bacon and dipped in a light gravy with a cheese curd reduction. As the delicacy was chawed down with vigour, the coaching staff was lavishly praised, the team’s new lucky charm, Shanky VI was lovingly fondled and strategies for squeezing the P out of CCCP were discussed.
15 pounds of Shifty and Shiny’s Wings, 2 jugs of Creemore, 1 Guinness, 2 Keith’s White, 2 Stella and some visions of playoff success were consumed.
NB: Butcher Brophey became the first 2 time winner of the Grip of Shame Award. Odds are 40:1 he’ll make it a threepeat on Monday night.
Game report
February 24, 2011
The Killer Strawberries should play all of their games shorthanded, if last evening’s tussle against the swift skating Sunnyvale Chargers is any indication. Bolstered by the absence of Butcher Brophey (lower body injury-member in zipper), the squad held its own in the first period, holding the opposition to under 100 shots.
Early in the second frame, with the score notched at 2-2, the team shifted into its seldom-used but highly effective “Penalty Box” strategy. The idea is to stuff the Sin Bin with its fattest, slowest, dimmest players so that those who can actually play the game above turtle-speed can get more ice time. Since it is a smallish penalty box and goalie equipment is rather bulky, only 10 players could be put on the list of “stuffers”.
With the boys piled on top of each other beside the poor timekeeper who needed four hands to keep wandering paws from using the Braille method to determine the colour and shape of her unmentionables, real heroes like MagBoy, IMW, Shifty and Mayor Maynot potted three beauties in short order. At least this is what the scoresheet said after IMW had a look at it. How IMW scored from the penalty box is anyone’s guess but it may have had something to do with his offer to help out the timekeeper while he awaited his sentence to expire. It is a trick he may have learned from Rob “The Torch” Greenfield, aka The Vice, who always volunteers to set and interpret all rules when games are played at his Compound For Minor Vice, the only dual dictatorship in the Western Hemisphere.
The Marquis DeSave was efficient and workmanlike between the pipes, as he used every available millimeter of his equipment to advantage. “You don’t win 2 consecutive NDA championships without good goalie gear” he mused after the game to anyone who would bother to listen.
The line of Slickery, MagBoy and Mayor Maynot was especially dangerous, at both ends of the ice. Pyjama Man continued his scoring funk, having last tallied in a 2010 charity match against a PeeWee C- squad, BLBCBW (Blind Lesbian Biker Chicks in Broken Wheelchairs), a small pickup team from Togo.
Achilles Perron played the match paired with the inimitable Gumby (first name of Gawdawful) and has advised the Executive that, should such a pairing occur again, he would rather Gumby be limited to patrolling the end of the bench while he (Achilles) is on the ice.
For his part, P, Gumbington Pettigrew III lived up to his moniker. The one good play he made (and we are rounding up to call it “good”) had him sending a speeding charger on an aerial mission through the 8 feet of empty space between said player and the net, with the journey concluding rather abruptly against an unforgiving near post. The move got him 3 minutes in the box, and the Strawbs used those 3 minutes to pot another goal.
The final score was 7-2. The Strawbs now face the CCCP Bolsheviks in a best of 2 semi-final. It is expected to be a barn burner, whatever that is. Maybe Rob “The Torch” knows.
After the game, the club reconvened for some sudsy libation at the Terminal Tavren, new home to Shifty and Shiny’s Wings, wings double fried in reprocessed lard, canola oil and salted butter, wrapped in lean bacon and dipped in a light gravy with a cheese curd reduction. As the delicacy was chawed down with vigour, the coaching staff was lavishly praised, the team’s new lucky charm, Shanky VI was lovingly fondled and strategies for squeezing the P out of CCCP were discussed.
15 pounds of Shifty and Shiny’s Wings, 2 jugs of Creemore, 1 Guinness, 2 Keith’s White, 2 Stella and some visions of playoff success were consumed.
NB: Butcher Brophey became the first 2 time winner of the Grip of Shame Award. Odds are 40:1 he’ll make it a threepeat on Monday night.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Killer Strawberry Blonde Ale Tasting
The keg before tasting.
The Butcher in rapt thought of thongs and marketing.
The toasts flowed.
Shiny waits for his.
Updating the blog on the fly.
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