Ahoy, Perverts!

Over the past three and a half years, I've gotten almost 420,000 hits on my silly blogsite. I don't mind telling you I am absolutely shocked by the number of people that have stopped by, and for some reason keep coming back. I hope that maybe I provide a laugh or two, and just maybe some of the other old farts that play hockey, or have eccentric kids like I do, can relate to some of the shit that I write.

I've also discovered that there is an entirely different element that frequents my site. That would be the degenerates and perverts. How do I know this, you ask? Well, if you take a look to the right of my articles, you'll see a feature called the "live traffic feed". It shows where my hits are coming from, and I'm very proud to say that I have readers from all around the world.

At the bottom of that box, there is another line that says "real time view". Click on that, and it will tell you not only where the hit originates, but also the phrase that they Googled in order to find me. That's where the perversion comes in.

Just this week, here is a sampling of the things that people all over planet Earth have Googled and ended up here:

Kristen Cavalleri's ass (get that one a lot)
Gay bulge
Ruptured testicle
Boner in shorts
Boner in short shorts
Boner in sweatpants
Middle school underwear
Conjoined twins sex
Jerking off
Jacking off
Teen sleepover
Dawgs vs Cocks
Dr. Jellyfinger
Midget hooker
Taint
Vagina Trophy
Big pussy
and my personal favorite:
How to make a dickhole bigger

Now, to be fair, I understand why some of these phrases lead to yours truly. During the hockey season, I normally write a fake game story about my beer league team's previous contest, and photoshop my teammates' heads on some of the nastiest pictures I can find, just to get a cheap laugh. And believe me, I go into some pretty dark places to find a lot of my photos.

Here are just a few examples:






That's just a sampling of the hundreds of pictures I've doctored over the past three years. Wait, that's not completely true. I have a partner in crime- my beautiful wife Annie, who does all my Photoshop work. I send her the idea, along with the pictures I want her to fuck with, and she sends them back to me minutes later. She knows she does a good job when she can hear me laugh all the way from a different part of the house. She's really good.

The boys seem to get a yuck out of it, especially my most frequent victim, the captain of the team and my best friend, Marty. He's in two of the three pictures above, which is about the usual percentage. Everyone on the team is a good sport, but Marty is a great sport.

I also tend to get a little creative with my phrasing when I write my game stories. If a player on another team is acting like a jerk, I'll use terms like "dickhole", or "cockmunch", or something very mature like that. So when a Google user plugs in "dickhole", many times they'll end up in my place.

I'm not exactly sure how Google works, but for some reason my blogsite comes up near the top when some of those phrases are entered. I stopped trying to figure out Google, and for that matter everything about the internet long ago.

Here's the part I laugh about: I imagine some naked fat guy in Bangladesh or New Zealand that's scanning the internet for whack-off material, and Googles a phrase like "Big pussy". He connects to my site, and finds this:



Or he'll put in "midget hooker", and get this:



Or he'll fire up "conjoined twins sex", squirt some Lubriderm in his hand in anticipation, and come up with this:



And I always crack up when I think of some poor bastard with his dick in his hand, when he Googles up "vagina trophy". He thinks he's going to see some erotic art, and he spots this instead:



I made up the Vagina Trophy a few years ago as a spoof on the Vezina Trophy that the best goalie wins in the NHL. I have to believe this isn't what a guy (or girl) has in mind when they plug that phrase in for a search. I wonder how many times, and in how many languages, has the question "What the fuck is this?" been uttered before they quickly click out of my blogsite.

But it still counts as a hit, so there.

I'd like to think that maybe some of these sick sons of bitches stick around to read an article or two, and maybe get a little chuckle before they venture back to SpankWorld. Probably not, but no matter what your motive is, you're always welcome to stop by. We don't have any room to judge around here- that's for sure.

Old Dawgs Repeat As Champs

Win Yet Another Title With 6-1 Victory

After barely crawling into the SDOHL summer championship game, the Old Dawgs put on a show in the final, rolling over a shorthanded Wasabi team, 6-1. The Dawgs have now won both league titles heading into the winter season, which begins in October.

Two veteran Dawg Nation players led their team in the championship contest. Tito Pijanowski continued to dominate the SDOHL playoff season, scoring his seventh and eighth goals, and team captain Marty Richardson, who came straight to the contest from Denver International Airport, banged in his second and third.

John Thielen chipped in with an important goal and assist, new Dawgs player Mario Lopez notched a goal, and Dawg Nation's most improved player Dan Cashman added two assists.
Goalie Al Sterner, after a less than stunning beginning, bravely fell in front of 11 shots to pick up his fourth league championship in a Dawgs uniform.

After pretty much dominating the SDOHL winter league, the Old Dawgs had struggled through much of the summer, finishing with just a 4-5 record. The playoffs were a round-robin affair, where all four teams in the league would play each other, and then the top two would play in the championship game. Despite going 1-1-1 in the three games, it was good enough for the Dawgs to make the final.

Wasabi played without some key players, including their leading scorer Matt McCoy, while the Old Dawgs, after playing much of the summer shorthanded themselves, finally had almost their entire lineup intact. A very important part of the Dawgs' equation was Richardson, who just arrived back in Denver before the game after spending the week attending a convention in San Francisco of the Financial Advisors Guild, or F.A.G. In fact, Richardson didn't even have time to change out of his work clothes before driving straight to the Foothills Ice Arena.


Richardson

Another very important member rejoined the team when defenseman Greg Clinard courageously battled back from a broken hand to play in the all important contest. Clinard, known to his teammates as the "Nard Dog", fractured his left hand in a tragic masturbation accident while his wife was out of town.


Frozen in that position


Wasabi scored the first goal of the title match after less than five minutes had elapsed. The puck was sent into the Dawgs zone, where goalkeeper Sterner gathered it and spotted Pijanowski breaking up the right side of the ice. Summoning all of his keen offensive skills, Sterner fired a perfect pass...right onto the stick of Wasabi forward and complete douche Kevin Baird, who happily deposited the puck into the empty Dawgs net for a 1-0 lead.

Sterner

Pijanowski got his team back level before the end of the period, when he converted a breakaway past Wasabi goalie Steve Bergman. So the period ended at 1-1, the Old Dawgs outshot their opponent by a 9-5 margin, and Sterner promised his team that he would never try to play another puck. Things looked fairly optimistic going into period number two.

It only took the Dawgs 1:41 to jump ahead in the middle frame, when Pijanowski nailed his second of the game off a nice feed from Dan Cashman. Then three minutes later, the lead was doubled when Greg Clinard, standing at his own goal line with the puck, spotted Richardson coming off the bench at the opposite blue line.

Ignoring the throbbing in his left hand, and the coinciding throbbing in his pants because he enjoys pain, Clinard threaded a beautiful long pass down the middle, catching Richardson in stride. The diminutive captain skated in alone on Bergman, and rifled a laser into the top corner to make it 3-1.

Then four minutes later, while on a power play because Wasabi's Kevin Baird received a four minute penalty (two for roughing, two for being a jackoff), the Old Dawgs extended their lead to three. Forward John Thielen banged in a rebound from a Richardson shot, and the Old Dawgs were looking great heading to the third period.

Matters were pretty much settled just over two minutes into the final stanza, when center Mario Lopez skated in alone and fired a low shot past Bergman, who was so faked out that he never moved to make a save. 5-1, game over, and thanks for coming. Have a safe drive home.


Lopez

The Old Dawgs managed one more goal before the end of the game, and they saved their best for last. Working a five on three power play, the boys moved the puck deftly around the zone, before Cashman again found Richardson in front of the net. Richardson one-timed a honey again into the top corner, and that was the icing on the cake.

6-1, and repeat champions.

The statistics showed how dominating a performance it was by the Old Dawgs. They outshot Wasabi by a massive 29-12 difference, and the only real scoring chance the regular season champs had was when Sterner gifted their only goal. Along with Clinard and Pijanowski, defensemen Jimmy Tiernan and Nigel Richardson were both very solid in holding Wasabi to their lowest shot total of the season.

They might have been missing some players, but it still would have been very tough to beat the Old Dawgs- playing at their best in a title game.

In other Old Dawgs news:

Thursday night, Old Dawgs forward Mike "Sully" Sullivan officially became the oldest man ever to win a league championship at the age of 68. He had no idea he won until his wife told him on Saturday. He thought he was at the Copa Cabana catching the midnight show with Tony Bennett.


Sully, confused and in the middle

After the championship game, Wasabi filed a formal protest to have the result overturned. They didn't believe the Old Dawgs were using illegal players, they were angry because the Dawgs played without Eddie Cribbs, who sucks just enough to possibly tilt the game the other direction.


Cribbs, left, out with strained pussy

Old Dawgs forward Dan Cashman insisted on wearing his helmet and mouthguard for the team photo. It was later discovered that doctors have ordered Cashman to do that whenever he puts on skates, whether he is on the ice or not, for fear that he might hurt himself.


No, that's not weird or anything

As stated earlier, defenseman Greg Clinard spent an extended amount of time away from his wife. That may explain why he had a shit eating grin on his face the entire game.




Jesus, how fuckin' happy can a guy be?

Team captain Marty Richardson helped his team celebrate victory this week by making his favorite appetizers for after the game.

Family Night and Miss USA III

So last Sunday night, the family and I gathered for the third straight year to watch the Miss USA beauty pageant. Along with the National Spelling Bee, beauty pageants are our favorite things to watch as a group, because we spend two hours making fun of the contestants.

Since we began this family tradition (archive back to 5/2010 and 4/2009 if you want to see the old ones), I've noticed a trend. As the kids have gotten older, the content has become a lot dirtier. Funny how that works, huh? But this year, the smut rose to an entirely new level, as you'll see in the next few minutes as you read my annual diary for the evening.

As you follow our journey, you'll probably wonder why I'm okay with my teenage kids making inappropriate comments, and using bad language. It's a fair question. Here's my thinking: as much as you might think that your kid doesn't swear...he or she really does. I did when I was that age, and so did you. So to think that they don't is being naive.

And as much as I paint a picture of them being deviants, we really have great kids. They all do great in school, they're respectful to adults, and they know when and when not to use bad language. So I let them speak like adults because they've earned it. And adults swear. So if that makes me a bad parent, well... then fuck it.

So without any other stipulations, buckle up, and let's get to the 2011 Miss USA Pageant!

8:00- Welcome back to the basement fortress! Tonight, we've once again put together the usual cast of characters, including my beautiful wife Annie, plus my sons Mike (16), Sam (15), and Ben (11). I'll be the chubby little fella sitting in my easy chair, scratching notes as fast as I can, and trying not to pass out while laughing at my kids.

Tonight, Annie has introduced a special deal to all of the boys down in the old fortress. She has offered to take all the reins off when it comes to inappropriate comments, which is a first for her. She usually tries (most of the time unsuccessfully) to at least keep the nastiest comments to a minimum. But tonight, anything goes, if....the boys can go the entire two hours without farting out loud.

The boys put their heads together, think about it for a moment, and take the deal. I personally don't think they can make it, because together they have more gas than the fuckin' Hindenburg, but let's give it a shot.

The pageant is back at the Planet Hollywood Casino in Las Vegas, and this year will be hosted by the annoying Giuliana Rancic from E!, and Andy Cohen from Bravo, a network that doesn't deserve an exclamation point. Sam and Mike yell "Goo!", when Cohen is introduced. I ask what the hell that means. They say that's what you call a gay Jew. Annie immediately regrets the deal she made a few minutes ago. First DVR pause of the evening while I bust up for a minute.

The first thing they do is have all the contestants introduce themselves- it gives us a chance to evaluate everybody, and try to select the winner out the original 51. Mike actually plucked Miss Michigan out of the group last year, and she ended up winning, which was very impressive.

They go through the girls so fast, it's hard to get a good look, but we stop the DVR when we see something interesting:

Miss Alaska- Mike steals a line from South Park, and yells out, "Goddamn polar gook!". Annie hadn't heard that one- actually cracks her up, which doesn't happen often.

Georgia- She obviously bleaches her hair, and Annie is all over that. She's our expert on dye jobs, and fake boobs. Mike says, "I wonder if she bleaches her vag? I'll bet she has a snow beaver". But he says it so it sounds like "beav-uh".

DVR pause- we're not two minutes in, and I'm crying already. New record.

Louisiana- Typical pageant big hair, but she looks like she's around 45. Sam says "She's a MILF, though."

Minnesota- Bad makeup choice- she looks like a raccoon. Mike- "Holy shit, my weiner just retreated. My name is Brittany, I'm 24, and I like scraps!"

Nevada- Our first contestant of the night that might be a dude. She needs to give Gary Busey his teeth back. Sam- "I'll bet she's the master of tucking".

New Hampshire- Tiny head- looks like Bert from Sesame Street.

Ohio- Big old girl- kind of like Brooke Hogan, except even bigger than that. Mike yells out in a really deep voice, "ME...HAVE...COCK!!!"

We are now only four fucking minutes in, and I'm laughing so hard, I'm almost exhausted. Both sleeves of my shirt are wet from wiping away tears. No way I make two hours of this. I need a moment to get my shit together. Extended DVR pause, please...

8:10- Okay, we're back. They cut down straightaway to the top 15 after the original parade of states, but first we need to meet our analysts for the evening. One of them is Susie Castillo, who was Miss USA once, but the years haven't been kind since. Ben sums up the other one, when he says, "Who's the fat dude on the left?"

Turns out it's Kelly Osbourne. But congrats to Ben for getting a comment in for the first time. He'll be as sick as the other two little bastards in no time. Kelly's lost weight recently, but she's still icky, especially with the tats all over her arms. Nice call on that, Princess of Darkness.

8:15- Okay, we're down to 15. I won't list them all, because this article is already going to be as long as War and Peace. We all made our picks after the intros- Mike took California, Sam had North Carolina, and Ben nabbed Utah. I had to negotiate with Annie- we both had New York, but I backed off and picked Indiana, because I'm just that good of a human being. That, and she promised to give me the old "rub and tug" later on. Okay, not really.

The only one of our picks that didn't make the top 15 was North Carolina, and Sam yelled, "My penis betrayed me!" It won't be the last time, son...

8:25- Alrighty, it's our favorite time of the evening- the swimsuit competition! Mike says, "Look, I've already got a quarter chub!" I don't look.

They'll all be strutting their stuff to the song Blow, by Ke$ha. The boys' eyes light up like kids in a candy store. I have a feeling they may be changing some of the lyrics. In fact, I'm absolutely positive they'll be changing the lyrics. Annie is secretly wishing one of them will fart so she can put the censorship button back on.

The "Snow Beavuh" from Georgia makes it to the top 15, but she's just okay in a swimsuit. Tennessee is really good, and Missouri looks great in a blue bikini. Mike says, "Wow, her suit and my balls are the same color right now". Goddammit- DVR pause again...

Meanwhile, Sam's in the background, singing My dick's about to blowwww....oh,oh oh oh oh oh, oh...(if you've heard the song, you know the part I'm talking about).

Annie, Ben and I make a startling discovery while the older boys continue to alter the way I'll ever listen to the Ke$ha song for the rest of my life. Our picks (New York, Utah, and Indiana, respectively) all have one thing in common. To quote my dad..."They gots no boobs". Uh-oh...nobody wins a Donald Trump pageant without lots of sweater meat. We couldn't tell during the original parade of states, but now we all know we're fucked.

Sam still isn't letting up on the song: Go insane, go insane, wrap your lips around my brain...now put it in your hands, hands; put it in your hands....

Honest to God, I might have a fuckin' conniption before this thing is over. I feel numbness and tingling down my left arm- is that a bad sign?

Florida comes out, and she's way, way skinny, except for the boobage. Annie calls fake boob alert right away, and we notice she has stretch marks by her hip bones, which we see because she has her suit riding way too low. Mike says, "She must have gotten her vag lowered".

Hawaii is next, and she is of Asian descent. Mike chimes in again- "I wonder if she plays the gook-ulele?" Holy shit, that was spontaneously quick. I'm sorry- I know I'm a bad parent, but I can't help but be impressed.

Here comes California, who is Mike's pick. We didn't notice during the original parade, but she has reddish hair, which is usually a deal breaker for both the older kids. Sam yells, "Mike, she's a ginger!" Mike yells back, "Ah, goddammit!" Then Sam steals a line from Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and says, "I wonder if the drapes match the pubes".

Annie begs for someone...anyone... to fart right now so she can get this thing under control. She'll receive no help from me- I'm pretty much a quivering mass of Jello in the easy chair rght now.

8:45- Okay, they're ready to cut from 15 to eight, which is strange because they usually trim to ten. As we expected, Indiana, New York, and Utah got bounced, along with the "snow beavuh" from Georgia. The only one of our original picks left is Mike's ginger from California.

When the eight are introduced, they quickly put up some biographical info as they come forward. Here's a tidbit that sticks out- Miss Alabama would like to "have lunch with Helen Keller". The boys go straight to the Kelen Keller jokes, including falling off a cliff and masturbating. Where do they hear all this shit? And I know what you're thinking. It wasn't from me...up yours.

We then discover that California is naturally blonde, but dyes her hair auburn. Mike feels a little bit better, but still regrets backing a "daywalker". Whatever the fuck that is.

After all the eight are introduced, they go to Kelly Osbourne for her analysis. Here lipstick is really a strange color. We all try to decide what shade it is.

Me: "Hot pink?"

Annie: "I don't know, but it's ugly."

Mike- "Labia?"

Sam- "Vagina lips?"

Mike- "Sam, you idiot. That's what a labia is."

Sam- "I didn't know that. I thought 'labia' was the country where that Gaddafi guy lives. Screw you, Mike".

9:05- I'm not sure what happened for the last 10 minutes. I think I had that conniption I was talking about a few minutes ago when I heard that labia conversation from the boys, and everything went black for a bit. I honestly don't give a flying fuck about the pageant anymore. I'm 52, and I don't think I've ever laughed this much in my life. And I thought watching the spelling bee with these boners was funny.

9:10- It's time for the evening gown competition, which none of us likes very much, except Annie. Tonight, as they walk down the runway, they'll be accompanied by none other than Tinie Tempah, and his song "Million Miles Away". He's joined by someone named Eric Turner, who's wearing a hat that makes him look like a Jewish Inspector Gadget.

Writer's note: Why don't hip-hop guys have real names? Pit Bull, Ne-Yo, Soulja Boy, etc. The only one I can think of right off hand is Chris Brown, who should change his name to Bitch Puncha, or something like that. I'm just saying...

I guess it goes all right, but like I said a few minutes ago, I'm in regroup mode right now. Maryland scores the best, and Mike's California ginger did great as well. South Carolina looked like she should have been in Gone With the Wind, and Alabama's got a big ol' butt.

Kelly Osbourne is saying something, but I can't look at her any more. She'll be the "talking labia" forever- I can't do anything about it now- it's out of my hands.

9:30- Now they're cutting down to four, which is again different than the usual five. Mike's girl is still in, along with Tennessee, who is great looking, Texas, who ain't, and Alabama. It is actually five, if you include Alabama's big ol' butt.

9:35- They always have commercials for feminine products during pageants, and we're watching one for something called a "Nuvaring". Without getting real graphic (because, gee, I'd never want to offend anyone), it's a device that's inserted once a month, and does a 99% job of birth control for women.

Mike- "Wait... you have to put that thing in your gooch for a whole month?"

Me- "Did you just say 'gooch'?"

Sam- "Jesus! That's gross!"

For some reason, they show it after it's taken out.

Mike- "Holy shit! It looks like a baked apple!"

Fuck me...I physically can't laugh any more. Please, sweet tap dancin' Jahovah, make it stop...

9:45- Now comes the most important part of the evening-the final question for the last four contestants:

California- Asked about medical marijuana- says it's okay as long as there is a physical need for it. I play hockey with several guys that got their card- told the doctor they have a bad back or some bullshit. What a racket that is. Anyway, she did okay- pretty safe answer.

Texas- Says it's not okay to burn the flag (they'd never let her back home if she said anything different). She also says it would be bad to burn the Muslim Koran, so I guess that makes her an "equal opportunity redneck". Whatever- she's not very attractive...

Tennessee- Asked about politicians that Twitter pictures of their dick to girls. Nice job on that, Congressman Weiner. She gives a good answer- she has a great chance to win.

Alabama- She thinks bullies should be prosecuted when their victims kill themselves. She repeats herself several times, and stammers through most of her answer. She should have let her big ol' butt answer the question.

We're almost finished. And then I can recover for a few hours- I'm not shittin' you- my stomach hurts.

Right before they go to commercial, they show all the four finalists one more time. Mike says, "Hey, dad?".

Uh-oh. "Yeah, Mike?"

"I don't know about you, but I can't imagine any of those girls taking a big old runny shit. You know, the 'Canadian squirts'? How about you?" Wasn't expecting that one- I've literally run out of tears at this point.

I get it now. That little fucker is trying to kill me, because he thinks I'm heavily insured, and he might get a car. The bad part is, there's about a 50/50 chance based on the last two hours. Devious little bastard...

9:50- Thank Vishnu, we're almost done. Here are the results:

4th place- Texas: I thought she finished a lot higher than she should have.

3rd place- Alabama: She really overachieved- she was Christina Aguilera thick.

2nd place- Tennessee: Dammit, I was rooting for her ever since Indiana lost because she had no knockers.

That means...yes, Miss California wins. And that also means that for the second year in a row, Mike picks the winner from the original 51. You know how they use a divining rod to find water? I think Mike points his dick at the screen at the start of the pageant and finds the winner that way. No other way to explain it.

So, boys and girls, that's another year for me and the family watching the Miss USA pageant. I'm sorry if the content got a little out of hand, but that's really what happens during these shows in our basement.

I'm just warning you right now, Miss Universe is in September, and it might actually be worse, because you're mixing in foreign girls, so that opens up a whole other kettle of fish. So when you see "Family Night and Miss Universe", just proceed at your own risk.

Just between you and I, I know you'll read it just to see what the kids say. See you then.

If You Don't Love Soccer Now, You Have No Pulse

Kids, I've been watching sports seriously since I was around seven, when my first hero Johnny Unitas played quarterback for the old Baltimore Colts. That means I've been obsessed with various games for the past 45 years. And yeah, I know I'm fuckin' old. Shut up.

In that time, I've seen some unbelievable shit. Of course, the top of the list is when Team USA won the hockey gold medal in the 1980 Olympics. And there have been other amazing things, like Kirk Gibson hitting a game winning home run for the Dodgers in the 1988 World Series with two bad legs, and Jack Nicklaus winning the 1986 Masters at age 46. Those are on the top of my list, but there have been hundreds of things that have defied belief over the years.

But this morning, my kids and I sat down and watched the U.S. women's soccer team play Brazil in the quarter finals of the World Cup in Germany. And the drama that happened in those two and a half hours was better than almost anything I've ever seen. I'll never be able to do it justice, but I'll try to describe what happened.

Before I start, let me just say that even though I write mostly about hockey, we're pretty much a soccer family. In fact, around our house, we call it football like the rest of the world does. I played for 25 years, and three of my kids play now. It gets a bad name in America, but when it's played right, like in the English Premier League, it's just beautiful to watch.

Anyway, these were the two best teams still left in the tournament, and they were only playing in the quarters because the U.S. fucked up their last preliminary game Wednesday against Sweden. The big favorites, Germany, lost yesterday at home to Japan in the "World War II Losers Match", so the winner of this game was pretty much in the driver's seat for the World Cup.

America received a gift early, when after only one minute, a Brazilian player accidentally knocked the ball into her own net (called an own goal), and the good guys were up one. The rest of the half was pretty ugly, with neither team getting very many good chances, so we were ahead 1-0 at the break.

The second half was a whole other story. About 18 minutes in, the best player in the world, Marta from Brazil (not sure why all Brazilian players only use one name, but they do), made a terrific move around 10 yards from goal, and was fouled by the American Rachel Buehler.

Writer's note: I'm going to stop for just a moment so you guys can get this out of your system (think of Ben Stein's voice):

Buehler?

Buehler?

Buehler?

Anyone?

Okay, we're back. Because the foul took away a good scoring chance, Buehler was red carded, and given the rest of the day off (See what I did there? Thank you-I'm here all week). For those of you out there that know jack-shit about soccer (and that's just about all of you), that meant that USA would have to play a woman short for the rest of the game. Borderline call by the Australian referee, but I understood why she sent her off.

So on the ensuing penalty kick, the U.S. goalie, Hope Solo, made a giant save (penalties are saved maybe two out of ten times usually), and it looked like we were still ahead by one. But no, the ref determined that Solo left her line too early before the kick was taken, and Brazil got another chance. This time they made it, and the match was level at one.

The replay showed that Solo was nowhere near coming off her line before the kick, and this would begin possibly the worst stretch of officiating I've ever seen in an organized sport. We'll get back to that in a bit.

There was still over 20 minutes left in regulation, but the Americans held on without giving up another goal (Solo was fuckin' brilliant). So they went to extra time, which is an additional 30 minutes, without sudden death. That meant that our women played almost half the game shorthanded. You hockey players out there, imagine being on a penalty kill for half the game. Not an easy task, right?

Just two minutes into the extra frame, Brazil scored when Marta flicked in a terrific shot off the inside of the post. But the replay showed that the original pass was offside, but not whistled down. Un-fucking-believable. 2-1, but there were still 28 minutes left. Thank God for no sudden death.

USA spent those 28 minutes doing everything they could to get the equalizer. And Brazil was doing everything they could to delay the game, so time would run out. And the referee was letting them get away with it, while missing a menagerie of calls, mostly on who touched the ball last before it went out of bounds. She was clearly in over her head, and the whole world was watching this Australian skank fuck up a pretty good game. The kids and I were just going bat-shit down in the basement while we watched.

The worst came with about three minutes left in overtime. America was putting on a ton of pressure in the Brazil goal area, when all of a sudden, one of their defenders (Erika, #13) grabbed her back and just dropped to the ground like she'd been shot. She rolled around on the ground, and had to be stretchered off, after laying there for around three minutes.

The stretcher went about twenty feet, when this bitch jumped off of it and ran back onto the field, showing zero signs of the injury. Worst case of time wasting I've ever seen. This is why Americans hate soccer. Soccer players, especially from the Latin countries, will cheat their asses off to win a game, and have no problem faking an injury to waste time in a close match, or flopping to get a foul call when they're not even touched. It's embarrassing, and it's a black mark on a beautiful sport. They need to put a stop to it, and right fucking now.

But there was a silver lining to all that nonsense. The German crowd, who already sensed that the Americans were getting gang banged by the refs, completely turned on the Brazilians, booing and whistling every time they touched the ball. And, believe it or not, the whole crowd started chanting "USA!!!USA!!!USA!!!". I doubt that has ever happened in Europe, and it just had to fire up our women.

So the 30 minutes ran out, but the officials actually added on another three, because of all the time wasting tactics (probably should have been more like five or six, but three wasn't too bad from that bunch of dipshits). The U.S. needed to score a goal, or they were heading home.

They only needed two minutes. Abby Wambach, the oldest, most experienced, and probably least attractive of the American players, got on the end of a delicious long crossing ball from Megan Rapinoe, and headed in a beauty from about six yards out. Tell you what- she got a lot better looking to the boys and I when that ball hit the back of the net.


Maybe this is why the Germans loved us. Imagine her with a tiny moustache. She looks a little bit like Hitler, right?

Well, we went fuckin' nuts down in the basement. Scoring a late goal almost never happens, and it just came out of nowhere. So now, we were going to penalty kicks to decide the game. Best of five moved on to the semifinals. All the Brazilians had a stunned look on their faces. The funny part was that if Erika hadn't faked her fucking back injury, they never would have added three minutes, and Brazil would have won.

Karma, baby...

Usually one save is good enough to win a shootout, and we liked our chances because Hope Solo is so damned good. To me, she's women soccer's version of Patrick Roy- kind of a bitch, but absolutely the person you want between the pipes. Plus, she's as close as anyone on the whole U.S. squad that's decent looking.



Both teams banged in their first few shots, but then on the third Brazilian shooter (same girl that scored the own goal early), Hope dove to her right, got a couple of fingers on the ball, and deflected it past the post. It was beautiful. This time the moron ref let the save stand- I'd bet the house that Solo would have strangled her if she would have called it back.

The U.S. hit their first four penalties, so it was all up to defender Ali Krieger, who just happens to play professionally in Germany. If she made hers, the game would be over. The boys and I were on the edge of our seats. She stepped up, and calmly passed the ball right into the lower left corner of the net. Game over. And of course, we jumped around the basement for a few minutes.

It was one of the best games I've ever seen- easily top five. The quality of play was great, there were great villains with the Brazilians and the refs, and the game was really important. Combine a thunderbolt of a goal in the last minute with winning in a shootout, and you have yourself a memory that will last a long time. If you didn't see it, look for it on ESPN Classic. I'll bet they show it soon, and you won't be disappointed.

I've Got Man-Crushes, and I Don't Care Who Knows

Okay kids, I have to get something off my chest. I'm happily married, I have four kids, and I'd like to think I'm very comfortable with my sexuality. Having said that, I've got a man-crush on three dudes, and it's time I told both of you who read this shit.

1. Arnold Palmer- This is not a new thing- I've loved Mr. Palmer for a lot of years. I've always said that if I ever get the chance, I'm going to have him sign my man-cleavage in permanent marker. I'm not kidding.

There was a time when I was a halfway decent golfer before little league sports completely dominated my free time (had the handicap down to six, which ain't too shabby for an old fat guy), and he was the guy I wanted to emulate.

And it wasn't because of his golf. I started playing seriously around 1980, and by that time he was pretty much at the end of his PGA career, and had moved on to the Senior Tour. It was the way he handled himself, on and off the course, that made me want to be like him.

The man signs every autograph, poses for every picture, and never takes his fans for granted. He has more money than God, but you'd never know it by the way he acts. If you look up the word class in the dictionary, you'll see a picture of Arnold Palmer. He's 81 years old now (same age as my dad, by the way), and my greatest wish is to shake his hand before he goes to the big 19th hole in the sky.




2. Justin Timberlake- Yeah, I know, I'm a rump ranger. But hear me out on this, okay? I don't give three shits about his music, although Rock Your Body is a pretty kicky song. What I like about him is that he isn't afraid to make fun of himself, which is absolutely the best quality a celebrity can have. Or anyone, for that matter.

If you've seen any of his appearances on Saturday Night Live, you know exactly what I mean. He has no shame- he'll dress in a turkey costume, an old lady outfit- he even put on a leotard and high heels to back up Beyonce during a skit where they were shooting a video.

But the highlight for Timberlake had to be where he goofed on his In Sync roots, and shot a video with Andy Samberg called Dick In a Box. If you haven't seen it- where the hell have you been? Get over to Hulu as soon as you can- it's really funny, along with the two sequel videos they made later.



He's humble, he's funnier than shit, and he got to drop the hammer on Jessica Beal for a couple of years, so there. Anybody that gets to do that is aces in my book.

3. Timmy Thomas- I've liked him for a long time, but he made my man-crush list this year. And there are a variety of reasons.

First, we have a little bit of a physical resemblance. We're both short, bearded, old and chubby. Also, we have similar styles of play, in that we both scramble and flop around on the ice a lot. Now, he flops because he has the ability to stand right back up and get himself back into play. I flop around because once I go down, I'm like a turtle on it's back. I just kick my little legs until one of my defensmen turns me over on my belly.

In an era where most of the goalkeepers are 6'3" or better, this guy is a throwback to a different time. He's listed at 5'11", but I'd bet the house that he isn't over 5'9". As proof, just scroll down my blog to where he fought Carey Price earlier this season. Price is listed at 6'3", and just towers over Thomas.

Second, Timmy is the absolute model of perseverance. After a decent college career, the guy bounced around the minor leagues and in Finland because he couldn't land a job in the NHL. He finally started playing regularly for the Bruins when he was 32 years old. That's a hell of a long time to wait for your shot, but he wanted it that bad.

Then two seasons ago, after winning the Vezina Trophy for being the NHL's top goalie, he hurt his hip and lost his starting job to a sieve named Tuukka Rask, who promptly choked away a three game lead against Philadelphia in the playoffs. Thomas was 36, and it looked pretty much like the end of the line for being a starter. Instead of accepting that role as a backup, he had surgery on his hip and worked his ass off to regain that number one spot.

Then this season, after taking just a few games to put Rask's ass back on the bench, Timmy set a record for save percentage in a season, and absolutely carried his team on his back to a Stanley Cup over a more talented Vancouver squad. He gave up eight lousy goals in seven games. He won another Vezina, and was the oldest player ever to win to the Conn Smythe Award (playoff MVP), at 37.



So we're similar in stature (not so much, talent-wise), and I can't help but admire the shit out of how hard he's worked for his success. But that isn't really why I love Timmy Thomas. For me, it's the way he conducts himself on the ice, and with his teammates.

If you looked closely during the Stanley Cup Finals, he always had a smile on his face. It didn't matter if he was winning or losing- you could see that shit eating grin on his bearded grill the whole time. He just looked like he was enjoying the experience so much, the game situation was almost secondary.

Plus, he's the perfect teammate. He constantly pumps up the guys in front of him, and encourages them when they make a mistake. As a result, they fuckin' love the guy. They'll throw themselves in front of pucks to block shots, and if anyone from the other team touches Timmy after the whistle, there are about three guys up his ass.

And even at the broken down old age of 52, that is the kind of teammate I'm striving to be. I've gone through periods, because I'm so goddamn competitive, where I've barked at my friends on the team when they've made mistakes, and lost sleep when I've fucked up. And I'm not proud of it at all. I wish I had a do-over on a lot of that shit.

It's taken a long time, but I'm finally getting to the point, as I get near the end of the career, where I'm really enjoying the experience, and having a bunch of fun with my buddies. I can't remember the last time I yelled at a teammate, and I'm going out of my way to tap a guy on the ass with my stick when he makes a good play. And even better, I'm going out of my way to tap a guy on the ass when he messes up, which is when he needs it more.

So there may be hope for my wrinkled old ass after all. I really believe a more positive outlook has improved my game, and I'm almost certain I'm more enjoyable to be around. If an old, short fat goalie in the NHL can be a great teammate, then an old, short fat goalie in the beer league can be one as well.

Family Night and the Spelling Bee IV

So last Thursday night the family all gathered in our basement fortress to celebrate what has become a favorite family tradition. The school year has ended, we've gotten through the Memorial Day weekend, and now it's time to enjoy the annual Scripps-Howard National Spelling Bee.

Honest to God, this night is right up there with Christmas and Thanksgiving in our household. It is the one evening of the year where we can get together, and further our education, while expanding our vocabularies.

Okay, that's bullshit. We actually spend three hours making fun of the mutants that are the contestants in this spectacle. This is what the military guys call a "target rich environment" for dorks, and Sweet Jahovah, do the jokes fly around the room like SCUD missiles during the contest. This is our fourth year doing this, and I always keep a running diary to try and capture how much fun we have.

(Writers note: If you want to see the other three articles, you can archive back to July/2010, June/2009, and May/2008. If you happen to have had a kid that was one of the contestants, I apologize in advance. Not really.)

As always, before I begin please let me reiterate that I'm fully aware that we're indeed a bunch of assholes that need to find something more constructive to do than make fun of doinks. But again, when was the last time you spent a night with your entire family, all laughing your asses off? It's been awhile, right? I think I can live with the guilt. So for the fourth year in a row, bite me.

(One more writer's note: You guys must not be too indignant- I get more good feedback on the spelling bee and pageant articles than anything else. I think I chased off all the tight-asses a long time ago, except there were some that were really pissed about me cracking basketball players vs. hockey players recently. But like my Dad always says: Joke 'em if they can't take a fuck.)

And now, put on your thinking caps, boys and girls, it's time for The Running of the Dorks. Here we go:

6:30- Good evening, everybody, and welcome to back to the fortress! Tonight I am joined by my lovely wife Annie, along with my boys Mike (16), Sam (15), and Ben (11). My daughter Lauren (7), also known as "The Girl", will be in and out of the room all night. We'll try, and most likely fail, to keep the bad language down while she's around.

We're greeted by our hosts for the evening, Sage Steele from ESPN, and 1990 champion Paul Loeffler, whom we're certain has still retained his virginity since last year. We're already extremely happy, because Tom Bergeron isn't anywhere in sight. Goddamn, I hate Tom Bergeron...

As always, the words will be given tonight be Denver's Dr. Jacques Bailly, who isn't exactly a fireball of personality. He fits right in with the rest of this group.

6:35- Okay, here comes our favorite part of the evening- let's meet tonight's finalists! If you haven't read the other three articles, I always give the contestants nicknames, because I don't want to have to spell their real names all night. You'll see why in a second.

There are only two tonight that were here last year. They are:

Laura Newcombe- Laura is a very pleasant young lady from Canada, who has an Asian mom, and a very, very white dad. We quickly throw around some mail-order bride jokes- the best being "You love me long time, eh?" We're just getting warmed up. Laura will again be called, "Can-Asian".

Joanna Ye- Joanna's from Scranton, PA, which makes us believe she has a future working for Dunder-Mifflin. She's grown up since last year, and her hair looks like one of the Jonus Brothers. She'll again be "Ye-Haw".

Now let's meet the eleven that are new this year:

Samual Estep- Samual looks like a mini version of Steve Carell, including the very large nose, and doesn't move his mouth when he speaks. We'll call him "The 11 Year Old Virgin".

Prakash Mishra- Prakash is the first of whole shitload of Indians that will be on the stage tonight. He's wearing a cricket jersey that has the number of what must be a famous player back in the homeland. I know more about sports than most guys, but the only thing I know about cricket is that it takes days to play, and it sucks. Sam comes up with his nickname, which is "Oshkosh Prakash".

Lily Jordan- Lily is from Maine, which helps explain why she might be the whitest girl I've ever seen. I have to believe the sun comes out every once in awhile in Maine, but I don't think Lily has ever seen it. She'll be "Albino Lily".

Mashad Arora- Another Indian kid, and we discover that he is from Brownsville, Texas. Mike says, "Isn't everywhere he goes Brownsville?" Hey, we made it almost eight minutes before tonight's first entry for "Most Inappropriate Comment of the Evening". We now have to call him "Brownsville".

Nabeel Rahman- Nabeel is from Buffalo, loves the Rubik's Cube, and was recently in the Math Olympiad. Gee, no shit. He'll be "Top Rahman". You know, like the noodles? Try to keep up.

Arvind Mahankali- Arvind is from New York City, is 11 years old, and weighs approximately 35 pounds. That is one tiny little Indian bastard. We quickly label him, "Starvin' Arvind".

Dhivya Senthil Murugam- See what I mean about having to spell the names? Holy shit. Dhivya is from our very own Denver, is the youngest finalist at 10 years old, has a raspy voice, and looks a lot like Dora the Explorer. Because of the voice, we call her "Sexy Dora".

Dakota Jones- Dakota is from Las Vegas, has a mouthful of braces, glasses, and plays the viola. He has not one chance in hell of ever getting laid. We all think that Dakota Jones should be the name of a black porn star. We're going to call him "Not Black Dakota Jones".

Veronica Penny- Veronica is from Toronto, and clearly does not want to be here tonight. All the other kids are smiling and waving to the camera, and Veronica is doing this:



This picture doesn't even do justice to how bad the look on here face is. She cried when she was spelling a word in the semifinals this afternoon, because she thought she missed it. Wow, she must get cigarettes put out on her arms at home when she fucks up. This is an easy one- we're calling her "Suicide Girl".

Sriram Hathwar- Sriram is yet another tiny little Indian kid, and his voice is a dead ringer for Linus in the Peanuts cartoons. When they pan over to him during the introductions, he has both hands down the front of his pants. Swear to God. From now on, he's "Pocket Pool Linus".

Sukanya Roy- Holy...Mother...of...God. Every year there is one kid that takes the title of Queen of the Mutants, and your 2011 champ is Sukanya. She's 14, has an oblong head, and easily the longest neck I've ever seen on a human being. I couldn't find a profile picture, but this should give you some idea:



This doesn't begin to do justice to exactly how long her neck is. The kids and I all gasped at the same time, and then happiness descended upon us like a giant cloud of nitrous oxide. Goddamn, we love the spelling bee. She just has to stay in for a long time tonight-there are just too many jokes waiting. She'll be "Indian Cherry Picker".

6:45- Alrighty, all the preliminary bullshit is out of the way, and we can get down to spelling some words. Last year sucked, because they elimated half the contestants in the first round, and the show ended about an hour earlier than normal. We had so many more jokes to tell, and it was all done before we knew it.

7:00- Either the words were easier, or the kids were smarter, but all 13 made it through the first round. Nothing major happened, except that Albino Lily has two chubby younger brothers that held hands while she spelled her word. They looked like they were around 10, so it just seemed a little off that they were holding hands.

Also, Suicide Girl takes the entire 2:30 that they're allowed to spell a word, and then goes really slowly, and makes a face like a bomb is going to go off if she gives the wrong letter. This poor girl has some problems. We decide as a group that we truly don't give a shit.

7:15- Uh-oh, we just lost our first contestant. 11 Year Old Virgin misses bondieuserie, which is shoddy religious art. Is there religious art that isn't shoddy? So Sam Estep is gone. As he's walking off the stage, I yell, "I... need... some... poon!"

(Writers note-If you don't get that last reference, then you must not have seen The 40 Year Old Virgin. If that's the case, I have no use for you. Just get out of my blogsite right now, go rent the movie, and then you can come back. I mean it. Off you go.)

7:20- CanAsian gets the word attaca (pronounced uh-tock-uh) , which is some kind of musical movement. When she asks for it in a sentence, Sam says, "My wife has a hairy attaca", and Mike follows quickly with "I really like the pink attaca". First DVR pause of the night, while I laugh like a little girl for a few minutes.

7:25- They show a chart after a commercial, and Colorado has had seven champions over the years. Guess how many my home state of Wyoming has had? Yeah, that would be a big donut. We don't grow 'em real smart up there. Hell, they skipped me past first grade because I could put two sentences together without shitting my pants. Honest to God, I skipped first grade. Now I'm a fuckin' goalie, and I make dick jokes as a hobby. I peaked at age seven...fuck me. Let's just move on...

7:30- Suicide Girl is up again, and they show a graphic that says she's home schooled. Wow, no shit. Then they show Suicide Mom, and we can see where Veronica gets all her good looks. The lady puts a revolver in her mouth until the word is spelled correctly. This is going to be like The Deer Hunter before the night's over. And if you get that reference, you're old.

7:35- Oops- Albino Lily is out on phanerogam, which is a flowering plant. Now her brothers can stop holding hands, and I can stop being creeped out. And Lily, check out that big yellow thing in the sky once in awhile, won't you please? Even Nicole Kidman thinks you're too pale.


Jesus...

7:40- There goes Top Rahman- he just missed dockmackie (North American shrub). Of course you know what happens next. We all do our Mr. Mackie impressions from South Park. "Drugs are bad, um-kay?" "Which one of you boys made a fudge dragon in the urinal, um-kay?" Goddamn, this is fun so far...

7:45- They're starting to drop faster now- Oshkosh Prakash is gone on susurrus (babbling stream). On his graphic, it shows that he was this year's champion of Mega Math Madness, which must be just a terrific place to score some pussy. Good thing his wife was selected for him ten years ago. Bye, Oshkosh...

7:55- Oh, shit. Everybody better hide all the sharp utensils, Suicide Girl flames out on rougeot, which is a grape disease. I say I had a disease in my rougeots once, but I got a penicillin shot, and it cleared right up. Nobody laughs. Tough room.

So Suicide Girl walks in tears to the other side of the stage, and sits down next to Suicide Mom, who just stares forward. Doesn't clap, doesn't try to comfort her daughter...nothing. I'll bet her whole fucking world revolved around her daughter winning this thing tonight. I'm thinking of the perfect word to describe this bitch, but it's one of the few words I never write. I'll give you a hint, though- it rhymes with "bunt".

8:00- You know who's doing just great tonight? Indian Cherry Picker. She's just bombing right through the words like she's reading them off of a card. We all decide that the reason she's doing so well is that she can extend her neck far enough to see the words on Dr. Bailly's sheet. Shit, I'll bet her breakfast hasn't made it all the way down to her stomach yet. We're talkin' long neck here.

8:05- Sexy Dora's history- she misses ephelides (freckles). She bursts into tears as she gets to her parents, and they actually comfort her. At least both Mike and Sam are very empathetic.

Sam- "She's crying tears of curry and failure".

Mike (in pretty good Indian voice)- "Oh, Vishnu, you have disappointed me yet again".

DVR pause again- that one got me. Goddamn, I love my kids...

8:10- Dammit, there goes Pocket Pool Linus. He crashed on polotouche (flying squirrel). In my best Bullwinkle voice, I say, "Hey polotouche! Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!" Because, you know, Rocky was a flying squirrel? What I forgot when I made that joke was that none of the kids had ever seen Rocky and Bullwinkle, and they all looked at me like I shit in their hat. Fuck, I have to update my material.

8:15- YeHaw correctly spells teppanyaki, which is some kind of Japanese food. Sage Steele says, "I guess it's good to eat out once in awhile". Mike excitedly says, "Dad, I heard the rules for 'eating out', but I can't say it out loud because Mom will yell at me". Annie agrees, and tells him to keep it to himself. She's trying to keep things from getting too out of hand.

30 seconds later, my cell phone beeps, and it's a text message from Mike. Uh-oh. I open it up, and it says:

The eating out rule: If it tastes like chicken, keep on lickin'. If it tastes like trout, get the fuck out.

8:25- It's been 10 minutes, and I'm just now collecting myself. I've been crying like Sexy Dora while the rest of the family has been getting a snack and taking a piss. Every year, one of those little bastards says something that just kills me, and it was Mike's turn this year. I think they take real pride in busting me up.

8:30- Brownsville is a goner- he misses samiel, which is a hot wind. All my kids would have spelled that word correctly, because they are the masters of the hot wind. I have never been around a group of people that have so much fuckin' gas. If there's ever a Scripps-Howard National Farting Bee, I'll have trophies all over this house.

Anyway, Brownsville sits between his parents, and pushes them both away as they try to make him feel better. He has a severe case of the red-ass right now; he's really pissed. Must be because he realizes he has to go home now. I've been to Brownsville- it's a total hunk of shit.

8:40- Okay, kids, we're down to five. CanAsian and YeHaw have been very strong- I think they're the favorites right now. Starvin' Arvind is still here, along with Not Black Dakota Jones. And my girl Indian Cherry Picker is hangin' in there- she went outside and ate some leaves from the tall trees, so she should be good for the rest of the competition. Did I mention she has a long neck?

9:00- They've gone through three more rounds, and they can't get rid of anybody. The highlight in the last few minutes was when Not Black Dakota Jones had to spell pustza (pronounced puss-taw), which is a treeless plain. Can anyone besides me see the next joke coming right down Broadway?

Mike- "I love a treeless pustza." Yep, that's my special boy right there, ladies and gentlemen. I don't think he's ever even seen a pustza, but now I'm not so sure. Conversation for another time.


9:30- The kids have spelled 23 consecutive words right- this is fuckin' amazing. If this keeps up, we're going to be here until the next Rapture Day. By the way, did anyone else other than me just hesitate for a moment at midnight on May 21st and then say, "Still here? Cool. Let's watch Sportscenter". That rapture guy's a fuckin' lunatic jagoff.

9:40- Finally, we've eliminated somebody! Not Black Dakota Jones misses zanja, which believe it or not, is a Mexican drainage ditch. So NBDJ's hopes and dreams have gone straight down the zanja for this year. Indian Cherry Picker stands and claps as he leaves the stage. I swear to God, her head should be on Easter Island right now.

So we're down to four, and all the white kids are history. They lasted much longer than I thought they would. Well, if nothing else, we still have hockey.

9:45- There goes the last boy- Starvin' Arvind bombs on jugendstil (decorative style). When he gets to the other side of the stage, his dad shakes his hand. Gee, that is a tender moment, Pop. What a penis.

Three girls are still here. Well, two girls and Indian Cherry Picker. Still not quite certain she is of our species.

9:55- Whoa, here's an upset- YeHaw is gone on galoubet, which is a small flute played with the left hand. Come on-are you kidding me? This is the easiest softball we've been thrown all night. I go first:

"I only play with my small flute with my right hand."

Sam- "I'm a southpaw".

Mike- "Joke's on you- I'm ambidextrous. I double date."

One more DVR pause. My stomach muscles are cramping- happens every time we watch this.

10:00- We're down to two. CanAsian has been flawless, and ICP has been just as good. Right before they start giving the final words, she turns sideways, and looks just like a Pez dispenser. I'm not kidding.


No shit- this is pretty close

10:05- CanAsian is the first to stumble- she misses sorites (collection of items). ICP steps up and nails periscii (polar circle), so all she has to do is get one more word right, and she will be the champ.

The word is cymotrichous (wavy hair). ICP does all the regular shit, like asking for language of origin, and then rattles it off perfectly. We have us a winner! They're way over the time allotment, so Dr. Bailly quickly hands over the big trophy, and around $40,000 in cash and prizes. Maybe now she can have that surgery to remove three or four feet of her neck.

Mike sums up the evening for us perfectly, when he jumps off the couch, and rips a giant fart on his way up the stairs. I guess that's "good night" in his language. Sam and I bust up one more time, and Annie shoots me a crusty look. She's pretty much over the farting thing- can't say I blame her that much. But like Dennis Miller says, "You know why kids think farts are the funniest thing in the world? Because they are the funniest thing in the world".

So there you go, boys and girls. One more year with my group of misfits, and this was a fun year. We don't have much time to regroup- the Miss USA pageant is this Sunday, and that is almost as fun as the spelling bee. I'll have a pen in my hand as usual- stop back by again soon, okay?

Old Dawgs Start Summer With 6-1 Win

The Old Dawgs, who last month won the first SDOHL Trophy given to the winter league champions, picked up right where they left off last Thursday night. Featuring a mix of the core group from last season and several solid new additions, the team looked like they never skipped a beat, skating away with a 6-1 victory over B&K Supply.

Last year's league leading scorer Tito Pijanowski, who plays defense like old people screw (badly and not very often), started his summer campaign in fine style, netting a three goal hat trick. Eddie Cribbs, who moved from defense to forward this summer, and new Dawg Greg Clinard each scored a goal and added an assist.

And defenseman Nigel Richardson got his first goal of the summer, capitalizing on one of his patented end to end rushes in the third period, proving yet again that he is the best Richardson on the team.

Goalie Al Sterner, who somehow found a way to stop a slapshot with his eye a few weeks ago in practice, used various other parts of his huskiness to make 20 saves and pick up the win. If he continues his success, he may eventually justify Dawgs captain Marty Richardson's brave decision to go out on a limb and select him in the 12th round of this year's SDOHL draft.


In case you were wondering- yeah, that hurt like a bitch

The Dawgs, much like they did most of last season, got on the board first Thursday night, when Eddie Cribbs converted a pass from Clinard, and shot the puck past B&K goalie Mike Broad. That lead lasted only about six minutes, before B&K's Keith Sobel gathered a loose puck in front of the Dawgs' net, and fired one through Sterner's giant five hole to equalize.

Then at the 15 minute mark of the first, Pijanowski received a pass from Cribbs, and found the back of the net for what would be the game winning goal.


The Polish Prince

The game stayed at 2-1 for much of the second period, and then Pijanowski doubled the Old Dawgs lead at the 12 minute mark, cashing in after skating the length of the ice. He made his standard move, cutting across the net, and then wristed a shot through Broad's pads.

Three minutes later, Greg Clinard skated into the B&K zone after receiving a pass from yet another new Dawg Mario Lopez.


No, not that Mario Lopez. Ours craps bigger than this guy...

Clinard skated across the blue line, found some space to wind up for a slapshot, and blasted a laser into the top corner past a stunned Broad, who never even moved to make a save. It appears that Clinard could end up having the hardest shot in the SDOHL this season, which is a little like being the smartest Polack. It doesn't take that much.


Case in point...

The Dawgs extended their lead to 5-1 five minutes into the third, when Nigel Richardson, summoning the energy usually reserved for his lovely girlfriend Kelly, took the puck from his own blue line, and dashed into the B&K zone. He skated past the last defenseman, and tucked a beauty past Broad to essentially put the game away.


Nope...not his daughter

Pijanowski completed his hatty just a few minutes before the end, and the Old Dawgs were off and running for the new summer season. Although they were outshot by a 21-18 margin, the good guys had the majority of the quality scoring chances, and capitalized on most of them.

The Old Dawgs will try to extend to 2-0 this Thursday night, when they take on the Wasabi team, which also won it's first game. Game time is 8:45.

In other Old Dawgs news:

This week, the Old Dawgs welcomed 68 year old Mike "Sully" Sullivan to the team. A Viet Nam veteran, Sully has now played hockey in six different decades, and looks a little like former AWA wrestling champion The Crusher.


Welcome to Dawg Nation, Sully...

This week, Touchstone Imaging goalie Timmy Kmetz, who also plays for Dawg Nation at The Edge, complained of a possible groin strain, resulting from having too large of a penis. Further investigation uncovered Kmetz protective cup, which casts doubts on whether this is a true story.

Both testicles fit in there as well...

This week Old Dawgs captain and former spooge collector Marty Richardson missed the team's first game. He was showing off his new Dawgs tattoo, and accidentally gave himself a sleeper hold, rendering him unconscious before the contest.


Biceps measurement: 3.75 inches

Having not had sex for many years, this week Old Dawgs forward Eddie Cribbs stood next to Dawgs II forward Danny Packard, and quietly imagined that turned sideways, Packard's face would make a perfect vagina. Except for, you know, the teeth.


"I'll bet the carpet matches the drapes..."