it’s Tuesday, we’re writing this while I make a succulent turkey meatloaf and stace sits eternally in the perpetuity of Seattle traffic, and like…DIDN’T WE JUST FUCKING DO THIS?
Safe to say we’re phoning it in today. I’m still trying to forget the last time these two Pacific Division rivals and subjects of a very niche blog written by best friends forever played each other, and now nature and Gary Bettman are trying to make me re-live my nightmares.
Granted, there are some things to feel good about this season:
This team, which pretty much has the same roster, eliminated the Kings from playoff contention last year 🙊 pic.twitter.com/uzl0KE093M
— SC (@stace_ofbase) December 9, 2015
But it’s been a bit of a slog. The game is starting soon, we’re busy, or we’re pretending to be busy, and really, I just didn’t want to do this today. I have angry letters to Santa to finish writing.
Fuck it, that seems as good a place as any to end this thing. No, I didn’t try at all. No I don’t care. No, you cannot write your own gameday. You are getting mitts for Christmas. And not even the nice ones.
Joe Thornton’s cock.