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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.
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