July, 2009

Thursday, July 30th, 2009

D-Listers and the hockey players who wear them.

Kellie Pickler has written the new theme song for scorned puck bunnies everywhere. Allegedly, Pickler trashes her former boyfriend, Nashville Predator Jordin Tootoo, in her song/music video, Best Days of Your Life. This song gives hope to all small-minded puck bunnies that automatically give up their pursuits when the hockey player of their dreams becomes romantically linked with a moderately famous individual. Of course, not all puck bunnies are this stupid. I’m mostly referring to the type that frequent the rumour sites and make comments like, “his new girlfriend actually has a career of her own which makes her better than all of us.” Apparently, careers are only worth something if it puts us in front of a camera. Apparently, we are bad people and failures as individuals if we have never wanted to be on T.V. Anyway, for those of us that know how to think, seeing through the D-lister/hockey player union is pretty easy. This entry will analyze some of the most notable shiny relationships around the NHL. I will be doing a surprising amount of name-dropping for someone who has never once purchased a gossip magazine in her entire life.

We’ll begin with our first set of implants, Kellie Pickler. According to Miss Pickler’s lyrics, Jordin Tootoo threw away the best days of his life by cheating on her. But how can this be?? How could a FAMOUS person get cheated on??? (Sorry, that was me playing the role of the moron-bunny). Here’s how. Is Kellie Pickler not a person? Perhaps you are forgetting that her claim to fame was not a pitiful run on American Idol, but rather an embarrassing stint on Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader, in which she announced that Europe was a country and that the capital of Hungary is France. Do you think that if you were this dumb, that your boyfriend wouldn’t cheat on you, let alone dump you? Plus, she doesn’t have the face for it to be OK to be a “dumb blonde.” Obviously, as most people would in this circumstance, Tootoo thought he could get away with it – and who knows how long he was actually getting away with it. What I find more disturbing was not so much that a “famous” person could be cheated on, but rather that one of the most notable NHL tough guys allegedly did this: *clears throat to start singing* “And does she know, know about the times you used to hold me, wrap me in your arms and how you told me I’d be the only one?” PUKE! Unfortunately, by writing this VERY original song, it is obvious that Kellie is not over the whole thing, and that her brief stint as a Preds girlfriend was actually the best days of HER life.

Moving on to the Alyssa Milano of the National Hockey League, Elisha Cuthbert. Elisha is a terrifying example of the Canadian puck bunny turned celebrity. Miss Cuthbert exerts her minor-league fame on what appears to be any and every NHL hockey player she can. You will notice that the common trend in the land of hockey player/celebrity relationships is that the celebs are typically of the D-List variety and that the hockey players are generally not superstars. Elisha Cuthbert has done so little as of late in the acting department, that she is becoming more known for her NHL exploits than anything else – not that she’s ever really contributed to anything worth a damn anyway. She has been romantically linked to Sean Avery, Mike Komisarek, Dion Phaneuf, and who knows how many others. Ok, so Dion Phaneuf is one of the best D-men in the league, but perhaps you are forgetting that he also looks like a mule. Luckily for Elisha, her shiny D-list status allows her to get around the NHL where the non-celebribunny would surely fail.

Before returning to our list of celebriwhores, we will pause a moment to honour Sean Avery. Avery is the poster child for the hockey player/D-lister relationship. Sean Avery is probably the most notable active NHLer in the world, as he often makes trashy mag headlines based solely on the minor celebs he nails. Playing for LA was the worst thing that could have happened to Sean because once he got a taste of what it feels like to date a celebrity, he couldn’t get enough. Avery goes from minor celeb to minor celeb, as this will make him a big name player where his mediocre hockey skills and poorly thought out on-ice antics could not. Arguably, Avery uses D-listers as a beard for both his hockey career and possible small penis. I can’t confirm this, but if the small penis buzzer is going to go off at any time during this entry, it’s right now. Come on, he even dated one of those creepy Olsen twin aliens.

Back to the D-list. Hilary Duff is another prime example of the failing celebrity desperate for publicity. With a Disney career that is almost always short-lived and doomed by adulthood, Duff discovered that she won’t be able to play a high school student in a G-rated TV series forever. Likely she became poverty stricken the day that Billy Ray Cyrus met with the Disney execs for the first time. Duff grabbed onto the first NHL player, Mike Comrie, who didn’t have a problem dating a teenager despite the fact that he was in his late twenties at the time – creepy much? Yeah, it is. Since then, Hilary has contributed little to the entertainment industry, and instead prefers to bask in the glory of the Wives’ Lounge. Furthermore, Comrie fits the description of the hockey player seeking D-lister notoriety because he is unhappy with himself for not becoming a household name on his own. He is known to lavish expensive gifts, such as, new cars on his D-list queen, and probably jets her off to beaches around the world whenever he can – seems like he feels that he needs to keep up with her lifestyle. Silly boy, real women will still love you even if you give them homemade love coupons. Do you hear something? Sounds like the small penis buzzer is going off again.

Next up we have our list’s only B-lister. Carrie Underwood is currently in the prime of her career, and has bagged the handsome Mike Fisher to boot. Unfortunately, we can’t forget that Underwood also comes from blue collar American Idol origins, and is already known to have dated other athletes. Multi-sport celebribunny? Technically, where southern country music fans are concerned, Carrie downgraded when she went from an all American football star, Tony Romo, to a Canadian hockey player in Ottawa. She is currently known as the poor man’s Jessica Simpson.

Of course, on occasion, the league’s crème de la crème also bag celebriwives of their own. Yet, even the Great One can’t seem to use his hockey fame to land anything more than the star of home workout videos. However, Mike Modano’s wife, Willa Ford, is practically a non-Lister. Willa’s claim to fame was her one hit wonder, I Wanna Be Bad, which was digitally altered to the point that she could have been mistaken for one of The Chipmunks. Unfortunately for Willa, her hit song came slightly premature of the slut movement of 2002. At the time that Mrs. Modano was being bad, her superiors (Britney and Christina) were still playing the virgin card. Since then, Willa has flashed her implants around any sleazy men’s magazine that would have her. Sadly, Willa is only 28 years old, yet she resembles a 48 year old that has had far too much plastic surgery. You really have to feel for Mike Modano. By the time his wife actually turns 40, he would have paid for so much plastic surgery only to be screwing this every night: What, too soon? Let that be a lesson to all of you that think that tanning is good for you.

Other Non-listers and further examples of low-intellect hockey players prizing body over substance are the Playboy Bunnies and female sportscasters. Both parties are women consumed with what they look like, and surely have the same Willa-fate as mentioned above. Both girls dream of being models and admired for their appearance. Unfortunately, their raunchy/stubby exterior and implants keep them from ever being considered by a serious modeling agency. Sportscasters are the variety that couldn’t cut it in Playboy, and had to turn to small-time T.V. broadcasting to land a notable hubby. Female sportscasters are always featured in the sidelines giving interviews because they don’t actually know enough about sports to make it onto the panel. These women are notorious for dating athletes, however, the relationships don’t often become public news because the relationships can’t really work and are usually just @#$%ing. For the hockey players sad enough about their careers to actually date a sportscaster, the details of the relationship will be all over the internet, as this bunny will actually have people write articles about the relationship, and will Twitter their every move as a couple to the point that you wish someone would stab her in the eye and mutilate her tweeting hand. It’s amazing what effects silicone and a bottle of peroxide will have on those of dim wit.

Play me out, Kellie.

Saturday, July 25th, 2009

Mating Game 101: Hockey for every situation.

Maybe it’s the anthropology student in me, but I am absolutely fascinated by two social groups of the non-hockey variety: metal heads and groupies of any kind. Last night I got to hang out with the amateur band groupie at a metal show – eeeee!

At the last minute I decided to accompany my friend and her fellow “band aide” to a show at the Bovine Sex Club in Toronto. The show was intense. I love metal heads. They are diehard about the music. I love watching the head banging. Typically, I don’t like that in non-metal heads. People that are one-dimensional about a specific genre of music or a specific band – you know the type. The type of people that judge you if you haven’t heard about such and such indie group or if you admit to enjoying a Top 40 hit. And while we’re on the subject of music, what’s up with those fake girls that pretend to like whatever music their boyfriend or crush does? Seriously, are they so insecure that they think their relationships can’t work if they don’t listen to the same music ALL THE TIME? You never see guys do this, “I’m really into this girl so I went out and bought her favourite Britney album so I can peer into her soul and have something in common with her.” Right. Probably the same broads that get implants and “work done” in their early twenties. Anyway, although metal heads are very intense about the music, it is a common mistake made by the groupies (it seems) that these guys are all music all the time – as I found out last night.

The girls developed crushes on the drummer and guitarist of one of those scary screaming metal bands we saw that night. As my friend began her mating game with the drummer, my wingwoman senses perked up as I heard their conversation become exhausted after the, “What are your favourite bands?” approach. He was getting away so I had to intercept with my “dazzling” conversational skills haha. I tend to distract people with bizarre choices for conversation topics like, why bad movies are actually good, how serial killers become sexy, and a stand up routine I like to call, My Spanish Grandmother. As our conversation turned to sports injuries of our childhood, he mentioned taking a slap shot to neck. This inevitably turned to the hockey discussion and team affiliations:

So what’s your favourite team then?
Drums: *fan pride* BUFFALO SAAAAAABRES!!
Me: Hmm I can live with Buffalo.
Drums: Haha I fuuuuckinnnnn HATE the Leafs!!!
Me: Me too! I used to work for them!
Drums: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! *grabs both my hands like an excited little girl* (seriously, that happened).

After that we talked about various showdowns between the Flyers and the Sabres. And just like that I got my chicklets invited to hang out with the band after the show thing. I promised my friend I would take her to a couple games this season so she could learn a thing or two, so hockey can save her in practically every pick up situation…even in the dark underground bowels of the gothic metal scene (apparently). There were people at this club with fangs painted on their faces – awesome! Anyway, I guess it shouldn’t come as a complete shock that metal heads and hockey would go hand and hand. After all, apart from Guns N’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle, the most common song played at hockey rinks across the continent is Metallica’s Enter Sandman.

This is off the topic of hockey, but still worth mentioning. Later that night, while we were all waiting to leave, I had to come to the rescue of the other girl who was in the presence of the guitar player of her current fantasy. She was shy. I remember having to steer the conversation back in the day when my bunny friends were crashing and burning before the “hockey gods.” This time, however, NASCAR was the secret. I noticed the guitar player holding a pair of #8 sandals.

Me: Eww who’s the Junior fan?
Guitar: Not me, I fuuuuuckinnnnnnn hate Junior.
Me: That’s good. I grew up in a Jeff Gordon house.
Guitar: I have a pair of #24 sandals in the van, want to see?
Me: Uhh sure.
Guitar: Hold my hand while we skip over to the van. *Grabs my hand and starts skipping* Sure enough he dug them out of the van and showed me the sandals, but I was concerned as to why he had them, as he did not possess the #8 sandals for wholesome reasons (they were the footwear of a blow up sex doll).
Me: OK do you have these because you actually like Gordon?
Guitar: No, I don’t give a shit about Jeff Gordon. He’s like the Wayne Gretzky (hockey again) of NASCAR.
Me: Hmm…I guess he is, but he wasn’t back in the day when I was in grade nothing.
Guitar: Yeah, for sure, it meant something to be a fan back then.
Me: Mmm hmm and who do you like? Let me guess, “*mocking girly voice*Ooh Kayce Kahne. He’s sooooo dreamy! I’d like to pit lizard it up all over him.”
Guitar: NO!!! I fuckin hate Kayce Kahne! I like *fan pride* JIMMIE JOHNSON!

Sure he does.

Anyway, had I decided to succumb to ways of the band aide, I would have pursued the handsome lead singer. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to talk to him while the girls were torn between drums and guitar. However, he did hold on to my hand rather tightly while I was attempting to rescue him from a crowd surfing incident gone horribly wrong. Come to think of it, there was a lot of hand holding going on that night – how sweet.

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