Ugh.

Not that this post was going to be pretty in the first place, but I'm up two hours earlier than desired because my moms car is possessed. 

Anyways.

I can guarantee my second born child (my first one was lost in a bet about Dany Heatley being traded) that the specific player who is, in my tired eyes, entirely responsible for last night will not get blamed. Instead, everyone else will. You know...a defenseman, several defensemen, Tim Connolly, Patty Lalime, Michael Peca. 

However, it may be very hard to blame Jason Pominville until they locate his body- what with the Pacific Ocean so close by. I'm not sure who Miller rooms with on the road, I think it's Yo Yo, and I'm sure he's prepared with something along the lines of ' oh, no officer, Ryan was with me all night.'

Early on, I was mostly angry with Mr. Butler for his leading to Patty sitting on the bench (where he should be warming up a spot for Jason). And, not that it should be a surprise on this team, even in such a high scoring game, goaltending was again not a problem- for either of them. Clarkie was kind enough to defend Patty right away:

MacArthur was not happy to see Lalime depart.

"Guys were [mad]," he said. "We let Patty down. He's doing his job every day and we give up some real high-quality chances early on."

As I just discovered on the Sabres site, even Patty had something to say while SITTING ON THE BENCH:

"Lindy told us that we had a chance to come back," Lalime said. "We were already on a power play, so he said 'Let's get one here, because you never know what can happen.' We showed a lot of character after being down 4-0, so you have to look at the positives. Everyone in this room never gave up and kept playing hard."

Is anyone going to talk to Jason? Probably. And he'll blame the system, and the idea that we just couldn't tie it will live on.

This is why Team USA doesn't want you either, jerk. 

TCT Does The Whiney Awards!

It's a bad sign when I have to sign in to post. It shows that I simply do not post enough. With RHB, I NEVER had to sign in...I'm not even sure what the password was. Same with this blog, actually. I had to make a retarded password to make sure that no one, including myself, could get it. 

Anywho!

I shamelessly used my press pass from mybuffalo.com (go there! go there now!) to go the Whiney Awards Tuesday night. Luckily, with such an event, I am not the only one doing anything shameless. People were dressed all fancy, and Corey (Shelby's brother, who I was delighted to cat with, and is basically the best thing when Shelby cannot be there) swore that none of them actually listened to the station. 

Furthermore, it wasn't an awards show. But, most of that stuff can and is covered in my recap that I'll post at the end. 

About an hour after I got there, I learned that I would be sitting at the alumni table. I panicked, and I'm not sure why. Old guys and Tamara, gasoline and matches...whatever. 

I was the only girl, not like that was a shock. The only person I recognized at my table was Mike Robitaille (when he introduced himself, I wanted to be like ' no shit' but nicer than it would have been with Adam Mair). Nevertheless, everyone was very nice. All were interested in the internship that always sounds more exciting than it is, and the fact that I'm from Montreal (that always seems to come up). 

At one point, the lovely gentleman who sat between myself and Roby left, and the first thing he says to me was ' you're very quiet tonight.' Yes, Mike, if online blogging has taught me anything it's that trouble is best avoided if I don't talk and play show tunes in my head. I asked why he wasn't roasting Rob Ray, and he said he was asked to but didn't think he'd be good at it. We both agreed he was best doing it on air during games. 

The roasting itself was very graphic. Frankly, since it's Rob Ray none of the disgusting stories really surprised me. Get Chris Butler up there and have Nate Gerbe tell a story about how they accidently killed a stripper with a wooden chair then hid the body in the trunk of Tim Kennedys(or Tyler Myers) car before throwing up  Craigory's pool (I pick him only because I know he has a pool) naked THEN...I might cringe. 

It would help if the stripper was male. 

Who knows, maybe Drew Stafford in leopard print pants really raises your standards on what fear is. 

Speaking of Drew, and the rest of the crew (hehe, rhyme), the boys headed out for roughly 13 days, sans leopard pants (we hope). Other than the backwards Atlanta and Islanders trip, it's all western teams on the schedule. The real kind of western, not like Columbus or Detroit. I mean California, Feenicks, and Vancouver...which could very well cause this blog to self destruct should a certain French Canadian be in goal and a certain Michigan boy score a goal.

 But we'll get to that later...

Oh yeah, and shameless self promoting:

http://www.mybuffalo.com/_No-Complaints-from-Whiney-Awards/blog/1715088/85283.html