If you call me now I'd come a running.

A quick note y'all before I explode from work again.

The old blog is now the new blog. Whereas the old blog will forever sit as a dusty archive of my wide eyed optimism of Habs sucking.

Overall, I've tried both. I just feel more comfortable with the vox than I ever will with blogger. Plus blogger can be a whore.

I'll make my links sidebar. I just can't be bothered to.

#161 - the Habs UFA signings, the REAL story.

Bob Gainey couldn't stop shaking the feeling that he forgot to do something reaaallly important.

Intense rantpost later.

#160 - The real Capslove post. (aka thank God for Word)

It’s been a while since I talked hockey. Maybe because it’s the offseason I just want to pretend that I don’t have any problems and hard thinking. Even talking about my favourite boys has become somewhat of a chore; I’ve become reluctant of living hockey or else I become jealous of what I don’t get which the rest of all hockey fans tend to be able to get.

Additionally, it seems that I must complete this Caps post lest I piss off Capschick any further. It’s not that I hate the Caps (see: Flames); I’m going to blame my lack of motivation and hectic schedule for this. But I know I’m sitting here watching a crappy episode of Survivor (gag) or Supernatural.

I’ve been reading Stewart O’Nan and Stephen King’s BoSox book Faithful, I know there’s something retarded to my logic of reading a book which contains the many details to MLB and the Sox despite having very minimal knowledge about it. A little bit like reading a restaurant menu and reviewing it just from that. I won’t critically analyse this book or anything fancy like that. Though I’ve been reading it while I work (usually knitting my latest item: an awful looking Oilers scarf) and it’s an interesting read. Stephen King is a great narrator, with an exceptional voice in communicating his feelings as a fan of these Sox. At the same time, there’s the constant of how, as a fan of a certain team, you’ve adopted a certain lifestyle.

On why the former paragraph has a certain importance, I’ve been doing the whole zen-like bullshit of how I fit in the jigsaw puzzle as a fan. It sounds elegant enough, but really it deteriorates into a sudden self-loathing pity party. Because I am a fucking Habs fan. And the kicker is, I CHOSE to be a Habs fan. There’s this certain suicidal quality that attracted me (the Oilers fan) to dabbling into getting a mistress to my hockey marriage (for the time being, the Oilers are like my husband [or husbands if you must be exact], the Habs are a kind of thing that you’d cheat on your current partner with – so bad for your sanity and health but so good).

The Canadiens population as a whole are a very seedy bunch; we have very little high points. We can’t openly celebrate too much because we almost have to be cautious about how low that high can get. We can talk about the former glory, the great days and the many “I told you so” moments of the Habs franchise. But most importantly, we’re very eager to become that bitter cynical fan. We don’t overrate or buy into hypes; we claim that because we always demand excellence from our players. Saku Koivu folds too easily, our d-men are too flawed.

Hear us roar, we’re Habs fans and we want – nay – deserve to be heard.

We cry, we literally cry about the state of the team. We can’t be excited about the new team, because we always have some emotional damage we’re still recovering from. There is or was a measuring stick we hold firmly, because players must play to their maximum potential and nothing less. When we see our team take to the ice and dominate, it’s like a well-oiled machine that pleases us by achieving its purpose.

And we rarely get that, because we become forgetful of how good it was. No one pipes in with “was it really all that good then?” because everyone shouts “yes of course it was, we were winning Cups then”. We’re no longer fucking trying anymore; we’re just rolling over and dying. We claim to show fighting spirits but in truth we believe in little of what we say.

And this is Rebecca’s Caps love post; I hope she can forgive me for blabbing on about the Canadiens. She does have an affinity for them so I can only hope that it’s something she approves of. But why do I like the Caps? Honestly, it’s because of this same gut wrenching catharsis that I hold for the Canadiens. By watching the Caps fans, I find a mirror in a very strange way. It’s a cracked mirror but the translation of the anguish is so easy to understand.

I can almost pretend that I’ve found a comrade in Caps fans, they mean well but like a problematic father-son relationship, they’ve often failed to get the complete message across. We, (Including the Caps fans – no longer just me and those Canadiens geeks) put our heart on our sleeve every time. There is always a dream that we strive for and at one point, anxiously hope for – only to find our hopes to be dashed again. We blame our coaches, our players; ultimately we blame ourselves for falling again for it. Who said that we were a good team? Ourselves. Why won’t other sides of the Hockey world acknowledge us or even see the talent we have? We want to say it’s because we really are untalented (especially in those gut wrenching moments of the season where all hope is lost and even your players take to the ice knowing it).

For this reason, I have become quite friendly to the Caps. I hate 50% of all NHL teams; there is a very high chance that I hate your team before I even know what it is. But the Caps, they’re different. They don’t come with the illustrious hockey history of the Habs but they get hockey, moreso than other successful teams. We have come to align ourselves with this power struggle of whether we control hockey or hockey controls us. You come with lacklustre ambience, an ill-matched roster and belief that the Hockey Gods have a plan for you. But it’s your ambience, your faulty roster and your belief. The same way the Habs fan experience is so different to the Caps fan experience, but sometimes it tells you that things are so similar.

Or, maybe, surely, definitely, or, I have spent the past 1000 words grasping at feeble straws, believing in a bad cliché or stereotype. We all know that the drowning feeling of being a fan is universal, but I would like to say that the Habs suicide parade ranks as one of the “Top Suicide Parades You Must See Before You Hang Yourself”. The Caps have successfully duplicated a similar sensation to how crappy it is to be a fan at this time. We must get together, pop open a beer (or a glass of wodka) and be cautiously optimistic together. Us cautiously optimistic fans have got to stick together eh?

#159?

NOOOOOOOOOO!

Squee!

#158 - I like Caps (Part 1 of the series)

I'm always rushing around doing something.

So uh, here's part 1 of why Jordi loves the Caps:

#157 - Habs fans!

I'm in a bit of a rush today (rush, holy crap. I sound like a busy bee) so I'll be quick.

• Habs fans! Squee! Complete and utter squee for new blood in the Habs fold. We shall continue to prematurely panic and cry over our Canadiens.
• I am not responsible for any damages caused during or from my blog. Seriously.
• Tomorrow is Friday. You know what happens on Friday!? At a party!? If all you every single one of youse (and you, you, you and you) never hear from me again, you know what happened to me.
• HLOG writing convention? I smell a spinoff blog...
• Free Agency! Yay! Habs! Oilers! Jussi fucking Markkanen. If he gets signed, that jersey is as good as mine.
  

Caps? What caps?

I like the Caps.

Okay I'll fix it later.