Dubious Awards - Freight Train

What can you say about Freight Train Laronde? He’s the biggest guy on the team, like a few of us, he possess one of the crappiest shots on the team, he’s the only guy on the Strawbs who prays before each game that the game doesn’t end up in a 4-4 tie, he’s taken more vacation time than any other Strawb for which he’s missed more games due to that than any other Strawb, even more than the Butcher, aside from all that, he’s the consummate Killer Strawberry. He’ll play any position asked of him by the executive. When he’s called on to play defense the Marquis breathes a sigh of relief that it’s not another piece of Trout Lake driftwood in front of him, his play at forward keeps the opposition players in check, and he’s invariably one of the first forwards back checking, next to Mag Boy, Lill Wagner and the Mayor, where he’s a relentless back checker. Through all that, he never complains or grouses, hardly ever gets upset, takes few penalties, in fact earns few of the ones he gets, he never disses or says negative things about his team mates’ on ice performances even when they’re Gawdawful. After games he is always up for going for a post-game pop, wherever the executive decides to go. He’s a great team mate.

He’s the epitome of a Lady Bing winner –the NHL award for “the player adjudged to have exhibited the best type of sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct combined with a high standard of playing ability.”

So, we are proud to present to Freight Train Laronde, the Killer Strawberries’ version of the Lady Bing award – for exhibiting the best type of sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct combined with a relatively good standard of playing ability and for always being willing to go for a post-game beer, the Lady Olsen Twins Award.

Awards Night Turns Into Love-In

On April 13, 2012, the Killer Strawberries Hockey and Gentlemen's Club held its umpteenth Annual Dubious Achievement Awards Night at the The Compound For Minor Vice. Very few fights broke out even though the event was heavily fueled by gallons of Offside Pale Ale and Body Czech Lager produced by the team's brewmasters specifically for the occasion.

Moose chili, moose pepperoni, smoked trout, smoked arctic char, smoked pickerel and many other delicacies were consumed with abandon. Many photos were taken but quickly deleted.

The Awards themselves were epitomes of eloquence and good taste. Much drying of tears was conducted openly. Below, is the text of the Award made by The Marquis DeSave to his pal P. Gumbington Pettigrew III, aka Gawdawful Gumby or Gawd as he likes to call himself. Gawd's Award for his goaler will be published soon in this space.


Dubious Achievement Award: Sir Gawdawful Gumby

The SIGNIFICANTLY USELESS CREATOR of KERFUFFLES, more commonly known as the “SUCK” award, is awarded to a much deserving player (defensemen usually, but was recently opened up to offensive players due to lil_wagner and Mayor Maynot circumstances.)



The recipient of this award possesses many unique qualities to say the least, many of which result in crisp, fast, intelligent and dazzling plays…..for the opposing team.



Perhaps this recipient morphs an interest in curling with his lacklustre hockey playing ability, thus resulting in the object of interest being shot up the middle of the ice carelessly. Or maybe, as his belief in SHANKY six-iron leads us to think – that this recipient relies on a supreme being to help him on the ice. Unfortunately, that supreme being knows “FUCK ALL” about hockey.



The grip of shame suited him like a spandex headband on the convenor’s forehead. Tight.



This recipient is Gumby.



Gumby is known for putting the ‘ass’ in pass, for putting the ‘aw’ in giveaway, and for putting the ‘ill’ in Killer Strawberries. His motto “same as it ever was” implies that, contrary to the folk tales the other people on this team tell of once fast, hardnosed, precise hockey, he was always gawdawful.



His receding ability in hockey is compared by spectators to that of his hairline: slow, painful, and irreversible.



His orange socks are not as much of a coincidence as they are a warning to teammates that they are working with a pylon on defence. The game film wholeheartedly agrees.



The motivational quotes on his stick are shot into the abyss with every possession, clutching onto the glimmer of hope that they will find someone who will put their phrases to use.



Without any further ado, please help me congratulate our friend and 2012 SUCK recipient, Sir GawdAwful Gumby.

Plop

Killer Strawberries 2 Turbo Beavers 5

Game Report

March 12, 2012

It’s too bad the Killer Strawberries did not call up Salty, the team’s blind, one –legged canine mascot to bolster its roster on Monday night. It would have been a marked improvement.

The squad started the game shorthanded. Freight Train Laronde was visiting Fidel and Raoul at an undisclosed, all-you-can drink resort somewhere in South Cuba. Reports from undisclosed sources state that much Marxist philosophy has been discussed over endless Cuba Libres and Habana Ron Viejo shooters. Raoul is almost convinced the country should have its own Killer Strawberries franchise to promote goodwill with Canada and heavy drinking among the Cubaneros.

Dash Hound was nowhere to be found at game time. No card. No phone call. No email. “We’re not his stinkin’ girlfriend” ranted an unnamed member of the Executive. “The Strawbs are all about communication: on-ice and off. If you have to go to the VD clinic, let us now. We can get you the team discount.”

Shiny Sean Brightly was somewhere in Florida, ostensibly looking at real estate. Wethinks he was looking at other stuff. After all, it is spring break in the U.S.

On ice, it was a disaster of biblical proportions. The Strawbs were down 3-0 before the ice had dried. Certainly, the Marquis DeSave could not be blamed, according to the Marquis himself. “The coaching staff should never have relied exclusively on Trout Lake Driftwood to patrol the blueline. Do the math: 1+1+1= minus 8 on the night. Small pylons would have been more useful.”
As it was, the Vice was gulping air through his lower sphincter, the Butcher was as effective as the rhythm method and Gawdawful Gumby put 3 goals into his own net.” I haven’t seen this much rubber since the 2006 Pride Parade” lamented the distraught Marquis.
Up front, things were a little better but not much. Sure, 5 posts were hit, but a good team doesn’t let adversity get it down. Lil Wagner, the fastest guy on the ice, continued to mistake the end boards for the back of the net. The Turbo goalie got so confident that Lil would shoot and miss, that he had tea served in his crease during any shift involving the Beer Store employee. Mayor Maynot, the second fastest guy on the ice, was content feeling the rush of cold air through his disheveled locks as he gamboled aimlessly about the frozen pond, visions of RRSP trailer fees dancing in his head.

Dr. Thelonius Thug could barely move. Both his knees were encased in 7 pounds of bubble wrap and surgical tape, his left clavicle lumbered under the weight of the four ice packs strapped to his shoulder, a constant river of phlegm poured from his esophagus and his eyes were crusted shut. He was the team’s second best player on the night, and knocked over several pieces of the goalie’s tea service.

And where was MagBoy? By the end of the first period, the human hurricane was downgraded to “scattered showers with a chance of choking.” Twice he was set up for an easy tap in. Twice, he couldn’t get it up.
Pyjama Man, cheered on by his co-home owner, the gorgeous Loans Jones, floated about with all the redundancy of a eunuch in New Orleans bordello. His one shot on goal came of a flaccid flicker by the Butcher which PJ Man inadvertently deflected with his helmet toward the Turbo net.
The only ray of sunshine came from the Ice Marshall. He scored the team’s first goal on a solo effort. By ragging the puck for 2 minutes and 32 seconds, he killed the Turbo Beavers 5 on 3 advantage and then, using his new longer hockey weapon, riled up all the Beavers with his amazing stick work, swept in on the surprised pipeguarder and promptly deposited the biscuit in the lower left hand corner of the net, smashing the tea service to smithereens in the process. Now that’s leadership!

After the game, the squad retreated to the dressing room, in the knowledge that they had played their last game of the year. The garbage can was sterilized and filled with Scotch. Dr. Thug added the unmelted ice from his shoulder poultice. Straws were distributed and the boys gulped away at the golden ambrosia like it was St. Paddy’s Day. Miss White Go Go Boots was called and she arrived in her chartreuse limo, driven by an unemployed gravedigger with a lisp. She arranged to have each Strawb deposited at the location of his choice. Everyone chose the Terminal Tavren.

At the Tavren, Miss White Go Go Boots was toasted (or was it fried?). In any event, the sting of the year end loss was soothed away and, after a rousing team cheer, the squad dedicated itself to a Championship in 2013.

A garbage pail full of 20 year old Glenfiddich Extra Lovely, 411 brews of various provenance and the intoxicating promise of a better year next year were consumed.

One That Slipped Away

Strawbs 3 Legends 5 (en)

Game Report

March 8, 2012

With the team's official reporter, Flash Factual, in Hawaii, covering The Miss Curvaceous Contours World Championships, there has been a dearth of information upon which to properly file a game report of last night's tussle between the first place Legends and the underdog Killer Strawberries. Nevertheless, here is an approximation of what occurred according to the team's dog and mascot, Salty.

Wooof.Woof, bark. BARK. WOOOOOF. Scratch me behind the ears. OOOH! Ya! That's it. OOh! Woof.

No further details were available at press time.

Strawbs Victorious

Killer Strawberries 2 Battalion 0

Game Report

March 5, 2012

This report has been compiled from reliable rumours, innuendo,and an afternoon interview with Miss White Go Go Boots. The team's reporter, Flash Factual, failed to file a playoff game summary. He is thought to be at the Aloha Baby Compound, nursing a hangover.

The Killer Strawberries scored twice. The Battalion did not score at all. The team's shook hands at the end of the game.

Whiplash

Whiplash

Killer Strawberries 2 Canadian Legends 4

Game Report
February 23, 2012
Season Record: 13-4-3

With the Strawbs still carrying an extra 612 pounds of Christmas Season lard, the Canadian Legends cruised to an easy victory last night. Several cases of whiplash were recorded as the Strawbs attempted to keep up with the equivalent of the Jamaican 100 metre relay team. Without success.

Luckily the Marquis brought his A game and stopped at least 17 three-on-ones in the first period alone. Yet, despite the lopsidedness in team speed, the Killer Strawberries had 4 great chances to tie the game with under 2 minutes left. They pulled their goalie in favour of an extra attacker. Shiny set up shop in the slot and repeatedly tried to drive the puck through the opponent pucksptopper’s chest… without success here as well. Maybe the fifth attempt would have worked.

The loss dropped the Strawbs to fourth place in the league from their second position at game start. The team has not seen a drop so precipitous since Gumby dropped his wallet onto the floor when it was time to buck up at the Bull on March 17, 2003. He stills owes this writer his share of the $423.24 bill for that day’s festivities. The cheque must have got lost in the mail.

Given the lateness of the game and the unsatisfactoriness of the result, all the players went right home to bed. A huge drop in the standings was consumed.

Battalion Boggled

Killer Strawberries 4 Battalion 1

Game Report

February 16, 2012

Record: 13-3-3

It is a perverse Strawberrian pleasure to see the disgruntled looks upon the pimpled visages of its opponents at the end of a game which has just concluded in the Strawbs’ favour. Sure, the veteran squad has its speedsters: the swift Mayor Maynot, the truculent Lil Wagner and the on-the-edge-of-chaos MagBoy. But a hockey team needs just the right combination of speed, raw talent and experience. Even if most of the experience is of the dubious variety, the Killer Strawberries have oodles of it and use it to advantage on almost every occasion. There are many indicators of this invaluable accumulated experience: tattered equipment handed down in the sixties to some current Strawbs and still worn with pride, bottoms of hockey bags littered with stubs of medical tape, a cornucopia of concussions, crappy tales oft-repeated, and more gray hair than the Elysian Fields Retirement Home.

Last night, the Battalion, a good hockey team currently holding down 4^th place, were the most recent victims of a Strawberry hockey beating. At 10 minutes to game time, things did not look promising. The team’s goaltender of the moment was somewhere in Nashville, strumming his pain with his fingers. The replacement goalie could not make bail. The replacement’s backup was having his nails done. MagBoy, banned from the net for 10 years, 8 years ago, (with the Executive holding an option for a further 10 years of banishment) was scratched as a forward and relegated to the pipes. Miracle of miracles. It was as if Jesse The Leak, the squad’s only previous goaltender to be inducted into the Butthole Bottomfeeders Hall of Fame, was in charge of puck stopping. Impossible stops were made, defensemen cursed at and a softie let in. It was déjà vu all over again.

At the other end of the rink, the Killer Strawberries were efficient, potting 4 goals in the first period and coasting (panting?) through the second, knowing its own net was impenetrable. This reporter is unable to recall the names of the goal scorers, as he was forced to sign autographs in the lobby for the full hour. While not wishing to brag, said reporter has been invited to the Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu, home to the Strawberries’ inscrutable Executive. There, a dinner will be held to honour him for his new book, A Tale of Two Shitties, a retrospective on the glorious careers of the team’s founders and spiritual leaders, Rob The Torch (aka The Vice) and Ice Marshal Walpole.

Note: Dash Headlong failed to score.

After the game, the hockeyists rushed off to the Terminal Tavren to get their free copies of the Tale and to christen the publication with spilled beer and unrepeatable taunts.

4 Creemore, 2 Muskoka Cream Ale, 2 Bud, 16 Steamwhistle, 3 pounds of petrified poultry and fond memories of the team’s best ever goalie were consumed.

A Beau Tie

Killer Strawberries 2 Dirty Mike 2

Game Report

February 8, 2012

Record: 12-3-3

It was a start that would make Paunch Imlach roll over in his grave, had he not been cremated. Within the first 2 minutes of the first period, Dirty Mike and The Boys were already up 2-0. The Killer Somnabulents were in shock. Not since the early days of Jesse The Leak had they had such an inauspicious start. The D was discombobulated, the forwards disoriented and the Marquis DeSave caught up in some reverie involving the girl he met the night before at Fanny’s and a strange itching in his nether regions.

Fortunately, the Strawbs are made of stern stuff. After the wakeup call, they revved up the engine and began playing like they could. The first period ended 2-0. In the second, Shiny, taking a lovely drop pass from the streaking Ice Marshal, fired one from 40 feet and caught the corner of the net for the team’s first marker. A short time later, MagBoy, doing his best Freight Train imitation, used his whole body to ram the puck past a surprised Dirty Mike’s goalie.

To keep the opposition off balance, Lil Wagner thugged it like the Butcher would have had he shown up. Official excuse: early Valentine’s Day shopping or, as it really was, sniffing women’s lingerie at Sears. Lil Wagner chopped his way to 3 penalties in a single skirmish and was quickly relegated to the showers.

The team picked up the slack, played well then-on-in and gained a point in the standings.

Given the lateness of the hour, the squad forewent their usual pilgrimage to the Terminal Tavren in favour of a post game wrap in some stranger’s driveway across from Peter Palangio Arenas. The driveway’s owner, a lovely single woman of 26, who identified herself as Narcissa Nonsuch, joined the team in the impromptu celebration and contributed 12 Heineken and more than one highly appreciated tale of unsurpassed salaciousness. She was made honorary team captain. We are hoping to see more of her in the future.

24 Steamwhistle, 2 litres of MagBoysian homebrew and 12 Heineken were consumed.

STANDINGS (as of Feb 8/12)

CANADIAN LEGENDS ( 12 W; 0 L; 4 T; 16 GP; 110 GF; 48 GA; 28 Pts )
KILLER STRAWBERRIES ( 12 W; 3 L; 2 T; 17 GP; 83 GF; 47 GA; 26 Pts )
BARN MUCKERS (11 W; 3 L; 3 T; 17 GP; 97 GF; 60 GA; 25 Pts )
MIGHTY DUCKS ( 10 W; 4 L; 2 T; 16 GP; 102 GF; 66 GA; 22 Pts )
THE BATTALION ( 7 W; 6 L; 4 T; 17 GP; 50 GF; 52 GA; 18 Pts )
TURBO BEAVERS ( 6 W; 7 L; 4 T; 17 GP; 70 GF; 63 GA; 16 Pts )
SUNNYVALE CHARGERS ( 5 W; 7 L; 3 T; 16 GP; 55 GF; 67 GA; 13 Pts )
DIRTY MIKE ATB ( 3 W; 10 L; 3 T; 16 GP; 63 GF; 106 GA; 9 Pts )
CASEY'S CHIEFS ( 4 W; 12 L; 1 T; 17 GP; 46 GF; 86 GA; 9 Pts )
DRUNKEN MOOSES ( 3 W; 11 L; 2 T; 16 GP; 38 GF; 83 GA; 8 Pts )
AVIATION INVASION ( 3 W; 12 L; 2 T; 17 GP; 69 GF; 113 GA; 8 Pts )

Veterans Shine, Youth Lackluster

Killer Strawberries          4              Turbo Beavers   1

Game Report

February 6, 2012

Record: 12-3-2

Consistent championship teams, from Les Glorieux to the Gumby-led Boxing Day Roadhockey Reds, have all had this in common: a strategic mix of experience, youthful vitality and very good goaltending. The Strawbs, who like to include themselves in this august company, have invariably relied on this formula, much to its advantage.

This year has been a good one for the Strawbs. Despite some serious injury problems, they have managed to lurk menacingly at the top of the league. Sure, Dr. Thug continues to self-concuss and frequently fall victim to nagging colds and dementia. Sure, the Vice keeps injuring his drinking arm in freak accidents. Sure, the Butcher keeps taking Cialis at the wrong times. Yet, it is not the veteran element which is (w)orrisome.

In last night’s tussle, MagBoy scored a beauty and used his truculence diplomatically and wisely. Pyjama Man played like Beliveau, in part to impress his fans but more because that is who he is (PJ Man not Beliveau). The Ice Marshal showed the leadership qualities for which he is paid the big bucks and set the scoring tone early with a truly Bossian effort.  Shiny was solid but too often ignored as he roared towards the opposition’s net in perfect position to convert the pass that never came. The Vice made only one errant pass, much to the chagrin of the puckstopper, the Marquis DeSave, who, till that point late in the game, was nursing a certain shutout. Gumby was present even though often absent from his expected position.

It is the young legs which will have to step up their games if another championship is to be copped. Dash Headlong, recruited to score 50+ goals has been stuck at 1 for too long. But he makes up for his lack of production by bearing dressing room gifts for his elders. Mayor Maynot stills whistles all over the ice surface yet has been short scoring finesse as of late. True, it is RRSP season. Nevertheless, work should be left at work. Lil Wagner leads the team in shots off goal and needs to drink fewer comped ales at his place of work before each game.

Even with the problems listed, the Strawbs won last night in strong fashion. Its goaltending continues to improve and it will need to keep improving as the playoffs loom.

After the match, 96.72% of the team, plus MagGirl sporting her new red squirrel overcoat and matching hand warmer, reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to plot its payoff run and to point out to each other how their games could be improved.

10 Kokanee, 2 Guinness, 7 Steamwhistle, 5 Coors Light, 4 Bud, an Appletini and many pounds of flaccid fowl flesh were consumed.

Slow Start, Strong Finish

Killer Strawberries           4              Mighty Ducks     1

Game Report

February 2, 2012

Record: 11-3-2

For the third game in a row, the hapless Strawbs’ defence corps (corpse?) put another marker behind their own goaltender. This time, it was within 5 minutes of the opening whistle which quickly put the team behind 1-0. The Marquis was apoplectic and refused to return to his cage until Shiny Shone Brightly made a public apology for yet another of his regular faux pas.

For the rest of the period, our goalie was on high alert for traitors in his midst. The squad has never seen such concentration on his part. The Strawbs were pretty much impotent for what was left of the initial frame. Only the Ice Marshal showed any signs of handsomeness, virility and life as he tallied his 37^th goal in 15 games to draw the score to even.

In the second frame, the team really went to work but were stymied repeatedly by a hot goaltender, something that has been lacking in their own end for quite a few weeks. Shot after shot was rung of the Ducks’ pipeman or the iron as he did a remarkable imitation of Patrick Roy in his prime. The Strawbs, tenacious and hungry, kept up the pressure and were rewarded with 3 more goals to finish off a 4-1 victory.

The Vice finally returned to the fold after a recuperation absence of about 3 weeks. He had so much extra padding on top of his already expanding idle bulk that he looked like the Michelin Man before the Man went on a diet.

In this workmanlike victory, two other performances stood out. Lil Wagner continued his incomprehensible fascination with ringing the biscuit off the end glass. He had 22 shots on the night and the only time he laid one on net, he scored. He claims he has been trying to be too fine in his picking of corners. Gumby had to tell him there are no corners on the back glass. This was quite a perspicacious observation from a self-styled defenceman, who, having just purchased his first new stick since 1996, wanted to christen it with a goal. In order to accomplish his impossible task, the Gumbster repeatedly abandoned his defensive post to place himself in rebound position in front of the opposition’s net: to no avail. After failing time after time, he would grumpily saunter back towards the center line where his defensive prowess is always at its maximum. Result: 0 goals, 0 assists, 0 contribution. It was suggested he go back to old stick. At least that way, he would spend a little more time defending his own end rather than embarking upon his quixotic vision of becoming a goal scorer.

After the game, nobody went out to the Terminal Tavren, given the lateness of the hour and what was perceived to be too little time to properly quaff post-match ales, lagers and poultry parts. The team plans to make up for its unusual abstinence after the next game.

Clouds Over Sunnivale

Killer Strawberries 2 Sunnivale Chargers 0

Game Report January 26, 2012 Record: 10-3-2

Despite having more than 200 years of top flight hockey experience on the disabled list, the Killer Strawberries, bolstered by some fine goaltending by the Marquis DeSave, managed to pull out a 2-0 win over a confused squad of Sunnivale Chargers. Butcher Brophey (ACL, right medial lobe, foreskin), Dr. Thug (chilblains and rickets), Freight Train (hip, lip and grip) and Rob The Torch Greenfield (Glenfiddichitis) were unable or unwilling to suit up for the tussle. Management is detecting a pattern of abnormal absenteeism on evenings when Miss White Go Go Boots is entertaining the troops at Naughty Nina’s on old highway 63 (she is the hostess). Come on boys, we all know she is beautiful and alluring but hockey must be your first priority.

On defence, Pyjama Man once again showed why he is a perennial all-star in the Canadore Intramural Hockey League. It is not his accustomed position. (He is usually on his knees begging for forgiveness). Yet he patrolled the blueline with aplomb and with other attributes than can only be described with French words. Shiny was a workhorse, logging over 30 minutes, most of them on the ice. Gumby, not to be outdone, was outdone, yet put in, what was for him, a superior performance.

Up front, the play was a little scrambly. Much of this scrambliness was due to the fact that the team spent just over half the game making small talk with the scorekeeper, a cute little brunette with a weakness for sweaty retards. Lil Wagner was particularly offensive, taking 2 penalties early on. Three penalties and it’s the showers for you sucker. Lil W. was on his better behavior from then on in. MagBoy was a buzzsaw, Dash Headlong, a whirling dervish with visions of post-game Creemore dancing in his head. Mayor Maynot, fresh from giving a sermon at the local Lesbyterian church, was inspired and athletically effusive. The Ice Marshall was august and modularly post-coital. His broken leg did not in the least lessen his performance on the ice.

After several cold showers (the hot water was not working), the team reconvened at the Terminal Tavren to plot its playoff run and to discuss whether it should try to play a 40 minute short-handed game next time, just to see if it can be done. 12 Creemore of various ilks, 2 Guinness, 3 Steamwhistle, 1 Blue, 6 pounds of protean protein and talk of drafting some younger players were consumed.

PS: The Vice's bench bossing was stellar.

Strawbs in Action or the Ice Marshal Still Plays with a Stick Too Short

Strawbs Penalty Shot

Workmanlike Win

Killer Strawberries 6 Sunnivale 2

Game Report
Record 9-3-2
January 23, 2012

With Butcher Brophey out with a lacerated ACL, the Vice nursing a wonky elbow and Gumby studying up for his Doctor of Divinity with the Universal Church of Secondary Sin, the Strawbs still went on to defeat a demoralized Sunnivale Charger squad by a score of 6-2.

Even with Lil Wagner gooning it up with various opponents and spending time in the sin bin, the victory turned out to be an easy one. Pyjama Man, Shiny and Freight Train were solid on the blueline. The forwards were workmanlike and efficient, scoring when they had to, backchecking only when necessary.

The Marquis was not greatly tested between the pipes but did manage a few saves of note (but not noted here any further).

The Strawbs could have won this game with 6 Gumbys. Thank Gawd there’s no chance of that ever happening.

Those still awake at game’s end went out to the Terminal Tavren to get some real exercise. Four glasses of water and a grape knee high were consumed.

Trout Lake Driftwood lost on the snowy beaches

Killer Strawberries 6 Drunken Moose’s 0


Game Report


January 19, 2012


Record: 8-3-2


Players were missing from both ends of the age spectrum and the TroutLake Driftwood foursome were missing likely disoriented and wandering the lake during a freak snow squall.  Did someone say there was a case of scotch buried beneath the ice?  Alternatively they were supposed to meet in the middle of trout lake and discuss tonight’s game but like navigating the ice rink there was too much whiteness. They likely ended up on the boards, I mean shoreline.  If they exceed my expectations and survive to read this blog then note: Your attendance at the next game is optional.  Gumby please drop off the water bottles by 745. That is all.

During the warm up the opposing team skated about with over confidence as they stared across the red line at a squad of 6 who weren’t even bothering to warm up.  It was actually a treat to skip the pre-game line up lecture typically delivered in a communistic like fashion.

What the opposing Moose didn’t realize is that they ought to have sobered up before their grunts of assumed victory.  By the time the first period was over the strawbs line +1 was filling the net like a commercial fishing vessel on a Tuna run.  The Drunken Moose-es-says scrambled to crack the tireless defensive duo of Freight Train and Shinny by calling out the play that the leading forward should make upon crossing our blue line.  That may have worked if we were deaf.

The Mayor dipped and dunked, stole the puck from the Drunk’d.  Lill Wagner, Pyjama Man and MagBoy hardly let the puck cross our blue line except when we were setting up for the flying V.  Even the Zebra’s tried to crack the short benched Strawbs by calling questionable penalties including a 5 minute on Shinny who was later sent to the dressing room early, leaving the Strawbs with 4 on the ice and 1 in the box.   If it wasn’t for Marquis DeSave filling in for the missing defenseman and scoring a shorthanded hat-trick we wouldn’t have walked away with a 6-0 victory.

Half the team showed up to Terminal Tavren. By that I mean 3 players thus the highest post game attendance ratio to date.

4 Steam whistle, a glass of water, some simulated meat "on a bone" morsels and the effectiveness of a short bench win were consumed.

A Double Loss

A Double Loss

Killer Strawberries 2 Barn Muckers 3

Game Report

January 16, 2012

Record: 7-3-2

With Pyjama Man unavailable due to injuries suffered in a home-manscaping gone bad, and with Gumby out for counseling, and with the Vice out of Scotch, the Killer Strawberries managed to put in a spirited performance against a strong squad of Barn Muckers.

The game was close throughout as the Marquis finally put in an effort worthy of Strawberrydom. The forwards and defence were stellar, including Dash Headlong, just freshly returned from a month of unrestrained Saturnalia in his hometown: Langorous Rapids, Manitoba.

Unfortunately, with 12 seconds left in the game and the score tied at 2-2, the Ice Marshal had some kind of cosmic brain fart and coughed up the puck at his own blueline. The opportunistic Muckers seized the chance to pot the winning goal. “ I played like a burrito crossed with a toothless comb” moaned the team leader. “I am demoting myself to the Bottomfeeders until I feel better”. The Executive concurred with him, and he will spend the next week spreading his not-unsubstantial charm in the boondocks.

Following the debacle, the squad braved a snowstorm to get to the Terminal Tavren to lick the wounds of a victory lost and to lament the loss of their spiritual leader and moneylender.

4 Muskoka Cream Ale, 6 Guinness, 7 Bud Light, a glass of water and the temporary loss of the captain they admire were consumed.

20 Good Elbows

Killer Strawberries 7 Aviation Invasion 1

Game Report

January 12, 2012

Record-Revised 7-2-2

There are usually many reasons for victory (and usually many, many more for defeat). Let’s start with the obvious ones for victory: the injuries and the no-shows.
The Vice was absent due to a recurring drinking injury involving his left elbow. This past Christmas season has been especially hard on him, what with never-ending visits by the likes Jim Is-so and by The Gumby and his ilk. It did not help either that the Vice lives in way-too-close proximity to the Ice Marshal’s liquor cabinet. Fortunately, The Vice has fashioned a rather advanced machine to aid him with his heavy lifting. His calls this aid (aide?) Marsha.

Dash Headlong failed to appear as well. Apparently, he is still being feted with a two month long revelry in his hometown, which revelry is commemorating his first goal as a Strawb, scored sometime around December 6, 2011. Come back, Sir, the team needs you. Bring beer.

To round out the missing, let’s not forget Dr. Butcher Brophey who is the only human ever to have circumcised himself with a hockey stick just to know how it must feel to be his opponent in an unsupervised corner. According to the team’s spies and procurers, the good doctor was delivering some kind of sermon or address to his local church on the topic of Self-Forgiveness. Wethinks he may have been in over his head. According to his paramour, the lovely and talented Miss White Go-Go Boots, a frequent overnight guest at his dacha on One Mile Drive (a gross misnomer), he could not make the game because he had burst like an overstuffed horsehair couch after Christmas dinner. The team’s upholsterer expects the Butcher to be soon recovered.

Now to the game itself. The line of Mayor Maynot, Lil Wagner and the Ice Marshal were devastating. Their passes were smoother and more frequent that the White House Clintons and they scored more often. On one shift early in the game, they pounded in three markers in under two minutes before removing themselves to the bench for a well-deserved breather. They scored many more times and could have had even more goals had Lil Wagner not repeatedly mistaken the back boards for the back of the net.

The line of Dr. Thug, Pyjama Man and MagBoy were almost as good as the top line. Enough said about them. No use dwelling on second best.

On defence, a neutral observer would have thought the squad had been involved in some kind of holiday blockbuster trade to bolster its blueline. The observer would have been correct in his observation but wrong in his rationale. The D did step up to previously unseen heights. Freight Train Laronde was a mountain of solidity and flawless execution at both ends of the rink. Shiny Shone Brightly, eager to add to his offensiveness, was often in on the play, just missing a few solid chances but capitalizing on others. His second goal was a thing of beauty. He rang the rubber biscuit off the interior upper middle post so hard that the ringing can still be heard in Butthole, Alaska. What a beauty!

The Gumby not only Gumbied, he meta-Gumbied by completing his first ever “Gumby Hat Trick”: a real goal, a questionable penalty and well-played unsportsmanlike misconduct. Bravo Sir Gumby, your pitiful life now has some meaning.

Between the pipes, the Marquis DeSave displayed his routine adequacy. He may have faced only one shot but he did get his glove on a bit of it before the puck trickled into his cage with all the energy of a drunken co-ed peeing her pants on New Year’s Day morning.

After the match, 20 good elbows braved the snow filled roads to be insulted by their favourite perky barmaid at the Terminal Tavren. Poppy Creeme greeted her Thursday night men with cold suds and a warm heart, always at the ready with a few bon mots and a gentle gibe to keep the conversation lively.

3 Steamwhistle, 2 Muskoka Cream Ale, 7 Guinness, 3 gallons of unfiltered water, and most-assuredly-not-the last retelling of the Gumby Hat Trick Caper were consumed.

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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!

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.

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.

A New Low

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Killer Strawberries 1st game of the 2011-2012 season TONIGHT at 10pm!!!

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.

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.

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 - check

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!!

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.