February « 2009 « Psycho Lady Hockey

February, 2009

Friday, February 13th, 2009

This is why you don’t get into cars with strange boys.

Once more, in keeping with the spirit of Valentine’s Day, today’s entry will look at a tale of love gone wrong on the road.

My recent trip to Columbus was doomed from the start. After receiving a cancellation from my friend (who’s boss threatened to fire her for even dreaming of taking Boxing Day off), I was at a loss to find a replacement so last minute, and at the height of the holiday season. I’ve realized now that in a lot of the American markets, it is very difficult to sell extra tickets. It’s not like Toronto wherein the worst seats will still induce heated bidding wars! So, I decided to brainstorm the best way to make use of this extra seat. I was feeling amorous, so the most enticing idea was to find and lure a hot boy that would otherwise be way out of my league at home and take him to the game. I was on a mission!

And that mission was surprisingly easy! My biggest fear was that Columbus would be a bit of a dog park (like certain other destinations that shall remain nameless), but low and behold, my waiter at dinner was definite eye candy. He had one of those movie star smiles. So, I asked him out (in a roundabout way) to hang out after his shift. He told me his shift ended at midnight, and I agreed to meet him back there at that time. However, just as I was leaving he dropped a major bomb that I should have taken as a clue to walk away and not come back. He referred to himself as a student, which seemed fine at first, but then I realized that “students” everywhere but U of T are no older than 21! He was a baby!!

I went back to my room to check in on the Flyers/Blackhawks game that was in progress in Chicago and had a bit of a laugh over their travelling problems that day *tee hee* – welcome to my world, boys! Anyway, so the clock struck midnight and I went back to junior’s place of employment. He wasn’t alone now. His “ride” also known as his “housemate” was there (who was also cute). Apparently, this favourite bar of his was actually close to their house, which was not walking distance from there – I kept forgetting that four miles wasn’t the same as four kilometres!

So, now I’m getting into a car with two strange boys that I don’t know. You know those girls that turn up murdered because they were hitchhiking and got picked up by strange men. Yeah, that would be me. During this five minute car ride, both boys felt that they should partake in a couple beers and a bit of the wacky tobaccy! Yes, they couldn’t wait five minutes until they got home! Luckily, the window was open and my hair didn’t get ruined. My whole hockey life started to flash before my eyes. I knew all too well what would happen to me if these guys were to get pulled over!

I was out for dinner the night before one of the Flyers games in Toronto last season. There was this odd couple sitting next to us. The woman was one of those sweet-looking, closeted little things, and the guy was this big grotesque beast that was trying to splash his money around as a way to come off as a total high roller. His conversation turned to his love for New York City (big surprise), to which the woman began the harrowing story behind her inability to legally enter the States. Apparently, on a road trip with friends (by the way, the tables were really close together I wasn’t trying to eaves drop), a routine car search turned ugly when one of the passengers was revealed to be carrying a “thumbnail” size amount of hash. All of the passengers were banned from crossing the border. Much to the distress of her (clearly) lavalife date, he wouldn’t be able to further his big pimpin’ spree by offering to show her the bright lights of Broadway from the comfort of his private jet.

From the back seat of the only car I have ever seen dirtier than mine, this story began to play back in my mind over and over and over again. I wasn’t worried so much about prison; my major concern was the status of my passport! What would I, the psycho hockey addict, do if I couldn’t cross the border on a biweekly basis? I wouldn’t even be able to go to hockey games in Buffalo! I’d be limited to six regular season Flyers games a year! That’s just unacceptable. I would die a thousand slow painful deaths! I started examining the handles on the door of the car trying to formulate some type of escape tactic, but then the vehicle came to a halt and we were home safe. Well safe enough. I still had to deal with the two infants.

Their house was like every frat house I have ever seen (except Delta Upsilon –Toronto), and this alleged awesome bar was totally dead! After playing a couple courtesy rounds of pool (which revealed all kinds of horrific truths, such as, “I was born in 1987!” – he was a “hockey player” too, by the way), I made my escape. It wasn’t easy they were trying to lure me with promises of golfing (real golfing) the next day, and I got that extremely close lean in that guys do that is practically impossible to resist. Ahh! Hockey…must…think…hockey. I couldn’t run the risk of travelling around in a car with open booze and narcotics, so I got in my cab (after declining the offer to crash at their place where an inevitable gang bang would have ensued) and headed back to my hotel – alone.

The next day, I sold my extra ticket to a scalper for a measly twenty bucks! I was told if I didn’t like that to “call my husband!” Anyway, after the Flyers had their asses handed to them by the Blue Jackets, I headed out for a walk down High Street. About three blocks away from the Arena District, High St. becomes really shady, like Market and 22nd (Philadelphia) shady. Every guy I passed was trying to pick me up in a way that came across as menacing. Finally I decided to turn around and head home before I started flipping off every car that stopped to talk to me. While I was waiting for the lights to change, another guy stopped because he wanted to take me out. (I’m sorry but do girls ever say yes to these guys?) I told him I wasn’t from there, and he said “Yeah, your accent sounds Russian or something.” Uhhh, you mean, Canadian?

Back at my hotel room I pranced around in my underwear feeling sorry for myself that I was the only one who got to see it. The next day I went home to start the countdown to my next adventure.

Posted in female hockey fans, mating game, road trips | 2 Comments »

Thursday, February 12th, 2009

Since when did, “I play hockey” become a pick up line?

Maybe it’s all in my head, but when I go out on the town, I seem to be a beacon for quote unquote “hockey players.” Now it’s not exactly my style to wear NHL paraphernalia while I am attempting to strut my stuff around the club district. So, visually there is no way for these men to know that I am a hockey addict (and truthfully my knowledge of the game has proven to completely annihilate their swagger at times). This means that the “hockey player” approach to scoring 101 is being used on any and every woman as a lazy attempt to get laid.

Remember the good old fashioned days when a guy would tell you he loved you and then never call you again? Remember how he tried to trick you into thinking that it was going to be all about you? Why can’t the mating process be romantic like that anymore? Now women have to deal with hot shot wannabes and Central leaguers marching up to them and saying, nay, demanding, “I play hockey! Blow me!” Like possessing a basic understanding of stick handling makes them entitled – ha! So, in the spirit of the upcoming holiday of love, I would like to take a look at a few of my favourite/worst pick up attempts from alleged hockey players.

I’d like to start by looking at the night of my twentieth birthday. I was wearing the infamous stripper shirt, and I was about five tequila shots beyond smashed. That was the night I grew out of the university drinking phase that all students go through to some degree. The hangover was so bad that I vowed I would NEVER drink again. I even went a whole year without drinking anything! And, for the most part, I have not consumed more than two or three drinks in one sitting since then. Except in Montreal this season, but that’s another story! Anyway, I was dancing (possibly on a pole), when a guy comes up to me claiming to be one of the Calgary Flames. Little did he know that I A) follow hockey, B) make good use of my Center Ice package, and C) know what this guy actually looks like. “Uhh, no you’re not.” Hahaha! He didn’t even say anything in response, he just ran away with his tail between his legs – good times.

NHL players seem to promote this kind of misrepresentation. Some of them provide their “buddies” back home with extra/old copies of their NHL cards, so that they can go around pretending to be them. Honestly, though, how stupid are some of the girls that fall for this? “Oh you play hockey in Nashville? Well, it makes total sense that you are in northern Alberta in the middle of February then!” *unbuttons shirt*

More recently, this past January, I was out with a couple of my girl friends when a group of “hockey players” approached us and helped themselves to the empty seats at our table. The ringleader was the stereotypical hockey wannabe. He was wearing a hockey lace around his wrist because it was from a “team I was on that made it really far in the playoffs – third, no, second in the country!” Make up your mind, junior! Of course, I had to respond with, “If you ain’t first, you’re last!” He didn’t appreciate this comment, though he did get the reference. He then went off spewing some bull about being drafted by the Toronto Maple Leafs in the seventh round and that he was playing on scholarship somewhere in the States. Not only was this guy NOT drafted by the Leafs, he didn’t even play for that school. If you’re going to lie about being a hockey player, then at least pretend that you play somewhere good, like buddy did at my birthday party!

The funny thing about this guy was that it seemed like he had this whole thing rehearsed with one of his wingmen. At one point the second guy chimed in with, “You were smarter than I was (for getting a scholarship), I shouldn’t have played in the O.” (OHL players cannot play in the NCAA). OK, I don’t even know where to begin with this self proclaimed major junior hockey star. The wingman can only be described as the nonthreatening type – a lover of poetry with a passion for crash diets, puppies, and MTV reality dramas. There was no way! There was just no way!

At one point, my friend heard the ringleader say to his friends, “I want to take these broads upstairs!” OK, Junior Hockey Bible, what exactly did you think you would accomplish on the upper level of the bar? Apparently, he thought there was a “d-floor” (dance floor) up there and he wanted us to “hit” it. Uh, no, I’m afraid this Olde English pub is lacking the standard disco ball and strobe lights – that’s a shame. Moving on.

So, I probably seem like a total bitch that shoots down any guy that comes near me, and that’s just not true. Along the way there have been real hockey players /non-liars that I don’t ridicule because they are who they claim to be. Even if some of their attempts were also lame, it’s just not as interesting because they aren’t posing. The fact that this constant posing exists, and, moreover, that it works, is just more proof of the magnitude of hockey culture. And for the record, I did let one guy get passed (eventually – I’m not some bar hussy). He was not a hockey player by my definition; meaning he didn’t play in a league that paid him enough money to not require off season employment. But he was lip bitingly gorgeous – a combination of Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Paul Walker only way hotter. I even blurted out “WOW, YOU’RE CUTE!” when he first came over to talk to me. Oh, boy.

Anyway, back to the posing. I have also seen this occur in non-scoring situations. While I was working for Maple Leaf Sports, I was assisting the Promo Team at a sales event they were doing in Oakville, ON. An eighteen year old kid peacocks his way over to us claiming that he’s too good to play in the AHL and that he’s going straight to the NHL. Did I mention he was eighteen, and the draft was seriously THAT day! I started drilling him on certain things, and the stuttering began. He claimed to play for the Ottawa 67s, and when I asked him his name he hesitated and ran away. I don’t need to tell you that he wasn’t anywhere to be found in the Hockey DB! He kept walking by all weekend waving at us like he was the hottest shizzz that ever lived. So hilarious, but not the first time I’ve witnessed this either.

Fake hockey players are popping up all over internet communities like Facebook and MySpace. Of course, I’ve come across several of these, but there are three that really stand out. The first was a guy who was drafted in the low rounds of the OHL Priority Selection. He never made the team and was actually playing junior C during the season. On top of sucking at hockey, he was also not attractive. So, instead of using his own pictures, he was using pictures of a renowned OHL ladies’ man – creepy, I know.

The second was a goalie who claimed to be in the Washington system, but playing in Europe. He claimed that he knew that next season he’d be playing in Washington (don’t ask me how he knew that), and that he was just in Europe for the year. By the way, this was not during the Lock Out. Anyway, he was fully trying to put me on; claiming that he was a huge football fan, and that he had seasons tickets to the Patriots, and that he flies in for the games (from Europe) if he doesn’t have a game – essentially, living the high life. Once again, not in the DB!

The third was an American Hockey League player (that’s nothing to sneeze at), that didn’t bother posting his picture online, but told the girls he was trying to cheat on his girlfriend with to “google” him! And it worked! He also was the first to lie to the girls claiming that he played for the big club, when, in actuality, he is STILL waiting for his first NHL game. *sigh* Silly boys. What would I do without you?

*The picture is of Boston Bruins forward, Blake Wheeler. Get it? Wheeler?

Posted in Hockey Players, mating game, puck bunnies | 4 Comments »

Monday, February 9th, 2009

The problem with America: cheerleading in Original Six barns.

Cheerleaders don’t belong in hockey period. And I’m not saying this from an insecure female stand-point; I’m saying this from a strong foundation of authentic hockey fandom. Even male die hards will support my argument one hundred and ten percent. It’s the fair-weather fans that tend to be of the attitude that beer and trashy bikini models posing as sports authorities are the major draw, but these people are morons and their opinions shall not be considered at this juncture.

Cheerleading is really a warm climate activity. The women are meant to wear skimpy outfits without running the risk of pneumonia. Hockey arenas are cold (burrrrrrrr) even in the warmer months and in the southern climates, so who came up with the genius idea to stick a bunch of chicks in miniskirts and tube tops in there? Even in the winter, NFL cheerleaders are often wearing huge bulky winter coats, which suggest that sex isn’t really what they are about. Cheerleaders are part of the history of THAT game; however they are completely absent from the pages of the hockey history books. Last time I checked the Hockey Hall of Fame didn’t have an induction category for spirit fingers.

The decision to invent hockey cheerleaders is a sad one at that. Hockey cheerleaders or “ice girls” do not serve any real purpose. The sidelines are physically absent in hockey, so these women do not have an active role welcoming the team, or even cheering for that matter. The Philadelphia Flyers have a “dance team” which I am pretty sure I have NEVER seen dance. (That duty is reserved for a big guy in an orange shirt that sits above the Flyers end zone). No, hockey cheerleaders are around for one reason and one reason only – to sell tickets.

Sales managers for financially struggling teams across the league seem to have the same naïve marketing mantra that “sex sells.” While that may be true for beer commercials and ads for gag inducing spray on deodorant, it is, in my opinion, actually detrimental to franchise attendance rates. First and foremost, this move isolates the female fan demographic. Most women would rather avoid having a bleach blonde bimbo shimmy shaking her assets in her face. And they would most likely want to avoid said bimbo doing said shimmy in the faces of their spouses or significant others – so there goes date night right off the bat.

Also, hockey is typically marketed as a FAMILY sport, specifically in the minor and junior leagues (where ice girls have also been popping up). So, once again, while the men in the sales departments are trying to promote to other men, they are neglecting to acknowledge the head of the nuclear family – the mother. The mother that has to get on her husband’s back to spend more time with the kids. The mother that would like to have one night to herself once in awhile. The mother that WOULD have suggested that her man take the kids to a hockey game had the tramps not been a part of the show.

Many teams continue to struggle even after bringing cheerleaders on board – surprise! So, the sex isn’t selling obviously. However, my beef with hockey cheerleaders has nothing to do with poor marketing tactics or bleach blonde/fake tan envy, it has to do with a deep sadness that hockey has been reduced to a cheap prostitute to make ends meet. Sure, there are some hockey markets that are well known to be doing badly, and I think, because of that, it is expected that they pull out every trick in the book to get asses in those seats. But when I see that an Original Six club has been reduced to spandex and glitter eye makeup, then I get upset.

Original Six teams are the most storied active franchises in the National Hockey League. They should be considered the elite and the closest thing the show has to an Ivy League equivalent – and the fans should know it and respect it. Why were there cheerleaders/ice girls in Boston? Better still why aren’t the Bruins drawing a full house every night? Especially now that they are leading the NHL standings! In the very least, where are the bandwagon fans?

Part of me died a little inside to see empty seats and barbies running around at TD BankNorth Garden. Of course, Boston isn’t the only Original Six club that’s having problems. I’ve already discussed the problems with Detroit. Maybe I’m naïve, but I feel that the Original Six barns should be the last place to see cheap gimmicks like Strippers on Ice. But, of course, that’s actually just a poor attempt at a solution – the real PROBLEM is that Americans living in certain Original Six cities AREN’T supporting their teams! SACRILEGE! So PLEASE, get off your behinds, Chicago, Boston, Detroit, and New York, and get down to the hockey rink post haste – don’t make me tell you twice!

*By the way, I am aware that Chicago has been leading the league in attendance since the new year started – good for you!

Posted in National Hockey League, cheerleaders, original six | 2 Comments »

Sunday, February 8th, 2009

The Bean Pot is not a cook off & other adventures in Boston.

Picture: Making my NESN debut!

Boston was not an overly eventful trip, but if you’ve been reading my blog, then you’ll know that this is a good thing. I originally decided to head to Boston while I was trying to kill my boredom by playing around on Expedia. The flights were really, really, really cheap, like $185 Canadian after tax and return cheap! So, I decided to give Boston a go. This was my first game and first time in Boston – it’s a pretty place! I’m proud to say that I have now been to games at all of the Northeast Division rinks!

I was flying out of Buffalo, which is normally my airport of choice. I prefer the ease of a domestic flight over dealing with the a-holes at immigration, and the smallness of Buffalo Niagara to the vast expanse that is Pearson International. However, Friday morning, the seventy minute commute to Buffalo proved to be a setback. My flight was at 10:21 AM, which meant that I had to exit Toronto at 6:30AM (ahhh!) to avoid rush hour (which in Toronto is actually four hours!). Of course, I had hardly slept at all last week. (I’m an insomniac now, in case you didn’t know). I was up early Thursday morning to get all of my last minute errands out of the way and I didn’t even get to bed until 3:30AM (I hadn’t slept the night before either.) So, basically I had a nap before I left.

Border security asked me who was paying for my trip, a comment I had (originally) thought to be both odd and hilarious. To me it sounded like this woman thought I was some princess/trophy wife type that needed men to pay for my things. However, my re-entry into Canada proved to be much stranger. This girl was a raging “c” (rhymes with runt). She asked me if I wore contacts, to which I said, “no.” She then snapped at me with, “THEN WHY ARE YOUR EYES SO GLOSSY?!” Gee, maybe because it’s after midnight and I’ve been travelling for eight hours, you dry, brainless snatch – tee hee! She continued to give me cut-eye, but inevitably did nothing.

The parking lot at Buffalo Niagara International Airport was covered in snow and ice. I pulled into a spot behind a truck and headed for check in. Unfortunately, this wasn’t actually a spot! Due to the poor snow removal efforts, there was an entire column of cars that were ticketed for not being in real spaces. By the time I arrived back in Buffalo, the warm weather had melted all the snow, so we were all in trouble. I guess flying didn’t help me avoid getting a ticket this time after all – oh well!

The Philadelphia Flyers were staying at the same hotel as I was in Boston – which was great for my work. The hotel was constantly surrounded by fans and ebay entrepreneurs alike trying to get autographs from the players! The people-watching was truly top notch! Maybe too good! I was so fascinated that I killed time loading up on fun drinks in the piano bar, which inevitably led to a very dizzy bubble bath later that night! To my disadvantage the Flyers/Bruins were playing a matinee game, so I couldn’t stay in bed and nurse my surprisingly mild hang over. I ordered the very same breakfast I had when I was badly hung in Montreal back in November: grease, salt, carbs, and a V8 – yum. That always kills the hangover instantly! Never order the orange juice, kids – the sugar will only hurt you more.

Once again, there were a great many Flyers fans that had made the trip to Boston. It seemed my entire section at TD BankNorth Garden was orange and black. I had sold my extra ticket on ebay, so I carefully contemplated whether or not it was creepy to share that info with the guy when he showed up – I did tell him in the end. (Hi, Joe!) Funny enough he was from Philadelphia, but going to school in Boston. We were sitting right on the glass behind Coach DILF…I mean, the Flyers’ bench, and he was getting text messages from both his friends at home and in town because they could see us…a lot! I guess CSN and NESN were loving on us!

I have to pause and take a moment to acknowledge the talent in Boston. I have been halfheartedly searching for a new hockey team, and I have to say that Boston was looking damn gooooooood! And I don’t mean gooooooood in the first-place-in-the-standings way, I mean it in the sexy humina-humina-humina gooooooood way. The opening video was awfully pretty! I am strongly considering making my return the next time the Flyers are in town (March).

Anyway, the Flyers won the game in OT, despite the fact that the team continues to be plagued by the flu bug. Seems to me that the players might not relapse as much if their immune systems were up to par. I guess that’s what happens when you date sex tape making Chlamydia with implants…hmm?

After the game I grabbed some sushi and headed back to Logan International to begin my long journey home. Hopefully my next trip will be a little more noteworthy and interesting to read – you can’t always force these things, you know. Ta ta for now!

P.S. The Bean Pot is a hockey tournament between the four major Boston universities, not a baked bean cook off like I originally thought! – the more you know.

Posted in Boston, Boston Bruins, Philadelphia Flyers, The Bean Pot | 2 Comments »

Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009

Hockey fan or puck bunny? The answer is skin deep.

Every female hockey fan has been mislabeled with this epithet at some point or another. Many find themselves wrestling with the term for the majority of their young lives. So why are some women regarded as puck bunnies while others are not? I have personally been on a mission to get to the bottom of this conundrum for the last eight years of my life. Finally, at eighteen, I produced a book which I had hoped would answer the question, but even now I feel that it has only begun to crack the surface of the puck bunny realm. In university, I went on to write linguistic and semiotic anthropology papers on the use of ‘puck bunny’ in language. This process shifted my focus from the what, the why, and the who, to the how. How are puck bunnies identified and perceived in the public sphere? Today I will try, once again, to shed new light on the subject.

One of the first problematic variables in deciphering this equation is the fact that a black and white definition of ‘puck bunny’ just doesn’t exist. To the vast majority of society, a puck bunny is simply a girl who is not interested in the game of hockey, but follows it, regardless, for less admirable reasons. The assumption is not necessarily that this puck bunny gets involved with the players, but that she does not have the capacity to understand sports and is, thus, at the arena because she either A)wants to look like she knows sports to be more appealing to men, or B) thinks the players are cute. It is a commonly held sexist viewpoint that women don’t know sports. “Don’t know” meaning “can’t know.” I don’t know how many times men have tried to talk over my head about sports to my male companions who were completely sports illiterate. It is infuriating! I’m also sure part of this misogyny is rooted in jealousy that women have the chance to experience hockey players on a more intimate level. Of course, then there are those that assume ‘puck bunny’ is the girl that “gets with” the players, or, in the very least, tries.

Self-proclaimed puck bunnies have different standards outlined in their definitions. While I was researching my book, I discovered that ‘puck bunny’ didn’t really exist as a singular entity. I uncovered nearly twenty different varieties of puck bunnies – some were guys! I now regard ‘puck bunny’ as a spectrum with two very definite extremes. The first extreme can only be described as (commonly) young girls that follow the game intensely because they have innocent crushes on the players. It is unfair to say that any puck bunny is not a sincere fan of the game. Chances are they spend more time, money and energy on the game than the average man-fan. Anyway, besides the odd attempt to get their pictures taken with the players of their choosing, these bunnies do not seriously seek a greater relationship with them.

The other extreme is home to the dirty puck bunnies. Once again, this is an EXTREME, not a set definition. These are the women that seek sexual relationships with any and every player. Although, you might be looking for these girls at the rink, truthfully they do the most damage away from the game. These are the “party girls” that go to the same bars and clubs as all the players with the hopes of getting free drinks and the chance to check another player off of their hit list. While this puck bunny claims that she is a wild child and that she can do the deed with no strings attached, she is quite often scorned when her physical relationships do not turn romantic. Essentially, these are the girls that daddy didn’t love.

Both extremes deny the authenticity of the other. The “nice” extreme claims that puck bunnies are girls that just admire the players from afar. They describe the other group as a “bunch of whores.” The “angry” extreme claims that one can’t be a real puck bunny without a track record to back it up. They often chastise the other end of the spectrum for being “little girls.”

So this is all well and good on an inner level, but on an external level all bets are off. Self-proclaimed puck bunnies and non-puck bunnies have the same difficulty with misrepresentation. Puck bunnyness has superficial tags associated with the title. These tags extend well beyond the simplistic, such as the presence or the absence of a hockey jersey or big floppy ears. ‘Puck bunny’ carries with it assumptions of age, gender, race, weight, and physical attractiveness. If I asked you to picture an NHL level puck bunny chances are you’ve immediately imagined a thin, attractive, woman in her early twenties. In your mental image, is the woman blonde? Chances are she is. Let me ask you another question, is she white? Part of this psychological association has to do with the use of ‘bunny.’ Immediately, one associates ‘bunny’ with the Playboy Corporation, and so, bleach blonde stripper-esque models are the poster children for the entirety of this group.

So unattractive puck bunnies are able to maneuver around the hockey rink without being detected, while attractive hockey fans are being ridiculed – doesn’t seem fair, does it? Often stupidity is associated with physical beauty, and so women, who already have a disadvantage at being taken seriously in sports, jobs, society in general, are burdened even more by being aesthetically appealing.

A friend of mine, who is also a hockey player, had joined a facebook hate group against women that didn’t wear hockey gear at hockey games. This group, which was run by a pair of overweight, glittery make up wearing teens, claimed that female hockey fans weren’t real fans if they wore a “nice shirt” and, essentially, if they weren’t ugly. Tell that to all the corporate clientele that pass through the Air Canada Centre. If women aren’t allowed to wear “nice shirts,” then certainly men should be forbidden to wear suits! Naturally, I had to ream my friend out for joining that group. I gave him the standard, “so I have to put a bag over my head, get fat, and spill mustard all over myself before I step foot in a hockey rink?” He left the group immediately.

Which brings me to the last question, “What do hockey players think of puck bunnies?” What I have come to understand is that hockey players generally regard puck bunnies as a bad thing. Even though, it takes two to tango, if you get my drift. Hockey players only reserve the term for women that have fallen out of favour with them. As long as he wants you, you’re not a puck bunny. Hockey players in general are idiots about women. They date women that “don’t like hockey” because they believe that women that do like it are just using them for their money – because hockey fans are the only people that know how much hockey players make, right? Too many pucks to the head.

Posted in female hockey fans, puck bunnies, puck bunny | 3 Comments »

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