First of all, it's been close to a week since we posted, and I have to apologize for that. Thanks to a combination of near-comical technical mishaps and the after-effects of a bona fide chiropractic emergency, this blog has taken a bit of a backseat. But we're back now, and there is hockey to be analyzed.
The last two games were at least as ugly as Ian Laperriere's face. The Wings came out this weekend with one of a possible four points, so I guess it could have been a lot worse, but... no, I guess it couldn't actually have been a lot worse. Not without someone getting injured. (Injured so they'd be out the rest of the season. Someone did get injured, it was Darren Helm, and it was in his delicate, boyish face. I hope his mother has Laperriere's phone number, and I hope she leaves him an angry voicemail. And I hope, having once been voted Denver's Father of the Year, that it tears at his cold, cold heart.)
In other news...
On Friday I got a very exciting package in the mail. At first I thought nothing of it because I've developed a minor addiction to staying up way too late and ordering free crap off the internet without remembering it in the morning, so I assumed it was just a new pen or a Newfoundland tour guide (did you know they have an island literally called "Random Island"? It's apparently a nice place to visit). Then I realized that it was from CafePress and practically ran yelling "HERM TO HOCKEYTOWN!" into our house. I opened the envelope and expected to find the three tiny H2H buttons we ordered, but instead found this:
Somewhere, there is a very confused (and very pregnant) woman who is trying to figure out what the hell H2H stands for. I wish her luck.