Yes, it’s true! Bambi has decided to branch out and start her own blog. She felt that having to censor herself for the Psycho Lady Hockey community was too difficult (I know), and she plans to let it all hang on her new site, Bambi’s Locker. Don’t worry (or definitely worry), she will still be guest blogging on here from time to time. Bambi’s Locker, a self-proclaimed “puck bunny blog,” is essentially a place for Bambi and fans to gush and drool over ALL NHL players equally – Bambi never discriminates. She claims she was having technical difficulties building her site, so she hopes that Blogger will only be a temporary home for her posts. For future reference, you can find a link to her blog under Psycho Network in my sidebar. The Network has been launched as Carmen has also shown an interest in starting a blog, but she is still undecided about her subject matter. Stay tuned for details. Anyway, I’m not sure if Bambi has the longevity to sustain a blog, but we will soon find out! All I can say is that I absolutely love the pictures she has taped up in her Locker! Click here to check out Bambi’s Locker now!
Just when you thought Puck Bunny Month was over here we are again. It shouldn’t shock anyone at this point when I say that studying hockey subculture has been a passion of mine since high school. I wrote a book about puck bunnies when I was eighteen, which signed on with a New York based publishing house. I wrote several university papers about puck bunnies and hockey culture on topics ranging from the language of hockey players to the term ‘puck bunny’ and misogyny. And then, of course, I started this blog so that I could have a forum to further explore this culture.
Lately there has been much blogging going on about puck bunnies. I’d like to think that Puck Bunny Month might have had something to do with this, and I may have been rubbing off on some people. However, just a few moments ago I was sent a link to another blog post tearing puck bunnies apart and listing a new form of puck bunny plaguing the female fan. This was called the puck bunny/fan “hybrid;” a girl who knows everything there is to know about hockey, but easily reverts to puck bunny tendencies at the arena. Now I always love to hear new theories about puck bunnies, especially discoveries of new species (I discovered fifteen types when I wrote my book), however, in this particular situation, I got a little annoyed, and the end result is this post. This puck bunny hybrid isn’t a puck bunny at all – she’s a hockey fan. Let’s recap: she loves the game, knows everything about it, but also has a vagina, and likes boys. Sounds like a hockey fan that just happens to be a girl and doesn’t know how to magically turn biology off when she’s at the arena. Shame on her for noticing that the player that made that wicked check was also good looking.
The problem with ‘puck bunny’ as a term is that the definition changes from person to person even though the official Oxford definition is very basic. Officially a puck bunny is merely a female who follows hockey MORE for the players than the actual game. Do you notice how it says “more” and not “only” for the players? At no time does the dictionary say that these women aren’t fans, and no where does it say that they seek to perform sexual favours for the players. After all, there are men who are just as flirtatious around hockey players as women can be.
As someone who has devoted so much time and study to the logical examination of the puck bunny, I find posts like this disheartening. It’s almost like my message has fallen on deaf ears. Of course, I couldn’t tell you if these other authors have ever read my stuff, but still it makes me feel like I’m really fighting an uphill battle (when fighting wasn’t my intention) trying to play devil’s advocate and provide the only voice for the underdog. So, I decided to post a list of things to consider before attempting to write an article about puck bunnies.
1. Get your definition straight. True puck bunnies love the players more than the game. That’s what sets them apart (if anything). They do still love the game, but they really love the players. Puck bunnies are not women who screw the players. Yes, some do, but not all do. That’s like saying all women are whores. There are just as many non-hockey fans that are willing to throw themselves at a professional hockey player just because he is one. And I say non-fan in the sense that they actually don’t like, watch, or follow hockey, not in the catty, “hockey players like her so she must not be a real fan” sense. If she doesn’t follow hockey, can this groupie really be a “puck bunny?”
2. Do NOT seek to blame an unknown woman (puck bunny) for the reason that you aren’t taken “seriously” as a hockey fan. The world of sport has always been male dominated. That’s a pretty obvious fact. Women may never be taken as “seriously” as the men in this business, and that is not the fault of any woman who pursues happiness in this realm. I worked for a pro hockey team and I encountered this at the office all the time; not just at the arena as a fan. I wish I had given myself this advice when I was writing my book. My motivation was to show the world what a puck bunny really was, and how I had been mistreated as one. The first draft of the book was a lot more aggressive than the edited version which I sent to publishers because of this. So, if you seek to write a logical paper about puck bunnies, then you need to sit back and remove yourself from the situation. A group of potentially mythical women are not responsible for your misrepresentation.
3. Understand that ‘puck bunny’ is only an offensive term SOME of the time. This may be a hard concept to grasp, but it’s true. Puck bunnies exist on a spectrum due to the fact that there are so many types that yield so many definitions. The two polar extremes consist of the most stereotypical manifestations known to the hockey community. At the one end we have the women who fall into the most common category – the sluts. This is the variety that actually seeks carnal knowledge of the players. On the other end we have the innocent puck bunnies; girls who love the players, perhaps even on an almost maternal level, who never miss a home game, but also like to bake cookies for the players, and fantasize about holding their hands. These ladies are also the rare breed that actually embrace the term and refers to themselves as such. When all is said and done, and the unofficial variables have been put aside, this variety may be the ONLY true form of the puck bunny out there, and their numbers are dwindling as you read in my Puck Bunny Month posts. I suppose, then, that I could make a sweeping statement by saying, if this is the only TRUE puck bunny, then ‘puck bunny’ is not a naturally offensive or derogatory word at all.
One thing is for sure in all of this, and that is that ‘puck bunny’ is no longer just the misogynistic tool used by insecure male fans to keep women out of this world, but rather it is used mainly as a weapon for women on women hate. If you have been mislabeled a puck bunny chances are you were spotted sitting too close to the ice and are likely a very beautiful girl. Congratulations. The ironic thing in all of this is that the she-beasts that spend $100 to go to an NHL game just to look for puck bunnies to hate on are the women that come through as the artificial fan/puck bunny. After all, what do you care that a certain player is staring at the brunette sitting behind the bench, it’s not like YOU want him, right?
When it comes down to it, being a fan of any sport is supposed to be fun! It’s supposed to be something that takes your mind off the low points of your actual life. It’s just a game. Sometimes I wonder what the players think of intense fans or the hockey blogging community. I wonder if they think it’s funny that regular people put so much stock into their lives and careers. But anyway, if you aren’t at the point where you can just ignore what the jealous she-pig, or the drunken idiot on his sixth pint of arena beer called you (without even knowing you), then I personally don’t think that you are secure enough in your hockey fandom to even attempt to tackle this controversial subject with a clear head. We are all hockey fans. Believe in yourself, and tell everyone else to fuck off – you don’t owe anyone an explanation.
Bird Sex: in reference to the single bump like mating strategies of birds; used to describe something very short or quick. Origin: Detroit Red Wings.
You’ve heard me bellyache over and over about the hardship of being a single, female, Canadian hockey fan trying to gain access to the land of twenty-four current NHL teams. Women are not real hockey fans, you see, so any hockey related excursions in the US are likely to be malicious drug runs. Thankfully, the US government wasn’t a thorn in my side on this trip to New York. In fact, the border guard I had was sharing stories about the families of NHL players that have passed by his booth, while I furiously tossed names at him trying to guess who they were. This time, however, I was lucky enough to find out what the Canadian government deems suspicious activity, as I was searched for the first time trying to reenter MY own country.
First of all, I knew how suspicious it would look flying to New York City for all of seven hours instead of spending the night. I just didn’t FEEL like spending the night. I’m going to be back there on the 26th anyway! Second of all, the Canadian side of the Queenstown-Lewiston Bridge had all of ONE guard on duty…and it was a chick. You know how I feel about female border guards especially ones with weight control issues and glasses. If you are so insecure about being taken seriously in life and in your job, then get another job/life. But, anyway, it wasn’t just me she was being a snarling, angry, virginal beast to; she was sending every car over for inspection. Everyone was a suspect and all of us were Canadian! Not sure why the Canadians always put the aggressive females on the night shift. Remember the, “WHY ARE YOUR EYES SO GLASSY!” chick last season when I was coming back from Boston? Actually, I do know why, no one else wants to work with them so they get the graveyard shift.
So, why did I opt to go to New York City for all of seven hours? The JetBlue $10 Birthday Sale, of course! On Monday, for one day only, JetBlue was selling select flights in and out of JFK for only $10!! If I was really crazy I would have flown into JFK for $10 then continued on to Florida for another $10, but I wasn’t in the mood for that surprisingly. The $10 flights were only good for travel on March 9th and 10th, so it was a spur of the moment decision. On the plane headed to JFK, the pilot got on the intercom and formerly congratulated everyone who was able to secure a seat at $10. You could tell, however, by the scattered uproar of cheers, that there were several who were not so lucky.
By the time I made it into Manhattan, I only had about an hour and a half to spend roaming around before my dinner reservations at Havana NY. I spent this time divided between the best cheesecake I’ve ever eaten from Magnolia Bakery, a quick jaunt through Central Park, and perusals of both the NHL and NBA stores. Bambi was the one who wanted to go into the NBA store. She had imagined that they would sell a “skanky jersey dress,” and she definitely wanted one of those. As it turns out, said dress only existed in the scandalous recesses of her mind. I actually think she might be switching sports on us. She’s developing an unhealthy preoccupation with Chris Bosh!
Dinner was great! Definitely the best Cuban food I’ve ever had; not like the “Americanized” crap they try to feed you at the all inclusive buffets at the resorts in Cuba! By the way, the last time I was in Cuba, Gretzky was staying at the resort next to mine, and was out playing road hockey from time to time. Anyway, I even had a passion fruit mojito. I’m not a big mojito fan usually, but Michelle insisted they had the best ones around. She was right! I should also say that I was honoured to have been the one to facilitate the meeting between Nick and Michelle for the first time – now my two NYC partners in crime have met at last. Oh, the trouble that will likely ensue!
During dinner, I was still “pouty” because I wanted to go to Warren 77 and the clock was ticking before I needed to get back on a plane! We decided to get the bill and cab it over to Sean Avery’s bar and squeeze in a drink before I needed to leave. We had more shit disturbing-esque reasons for going, but no drama found us there that night – SAD!
Warren 77 is…interesting. Physically it is probably the tiniest bar I have ever seen, and I’m not even sure what to make of the décor. Avery went for the vintage look, which can be cool, if you know how to do it right. I always marvel when I see people walking down the street in wacky thrift clothes that were put together so well that they successfully achieved the iconic look that is so hot right now. It’s hard to do; I definitely can’t pull it off. You can’t just throw a bunch of crap together and hope it works – there’s an art to it. Warren 77 looked kind of like a bunch of crap was dumped inside the place. At one point I wasn’t sure if this look was intended or if they just never bothered to renovate the place. Given how polished and extravagant Sean Avery’s off ice (physical) image is, I guess one wouldn’t expect to find this in his bar.
Warren 77, which I should note, has a very amusing name to me. I was disappointed to learn that Warren 77 is simply the address, as “warren” is the correct term to use when describing a cluster of bunnies (or their puck biting equivalent). Unfortunately, not even seventy-seven puck bunnies could fit down that hole, but that’s not to say that puck bunnies and jock sniffers alike do not flock to it. Warren 77 had the bitchiest wait staff on hand that night. Imagine the most aggressive puck bunny or angry hockey girlfriend you’ve ever seen and put her in a Sean Avery t-shirt. These girls didn’t care about anything other than touch flirting with any guy that walked in wearing a suit. Wonder if Sean hand selected these women himself. As for the patrons of the bar, you got the sense that there were a lot of the player wannabe types in there. These were guys that actually managed to look the part of a hockey player, and likely try to convince unsuspecting females of their hockey occupation while doing the Saturday night bar circuit. If you thought hockey players were bad, wait until you see the front office equivalent. From what I’ve seen, the guys that are generally attracted to a career in sports are the guys who couldn’t handle not making it to the pros or not being athletic, and want all the dirty perks that come with the territory of a career playing for the NHL. These are guys that try to have as many hoes in different area codes as the players do, then end up feeling insecure when the puck bunnies use them to get to the REAL players. Guys who end up single until they are forty, and then decide that they would be willing to settle down with a twenty-two year old simply because the hunt became too difficult. Trust me there is nothing worse than the hockey player wannabe, and that was the vibe I was getting from most of the guys there that night. No thanks.
Sadly, my night ended at Warren 77. I will have to give the place another go when I have more time. The food is apparently really good! Luckily, I had my boarding pass with me already because I had all of seven minutes to spare before getting on the plane. I love airports at night. No one is there to get in your way and make you want to crosscheck the Hell out of them. The plane was pretty empty too, but I was fortunate enough to have the obnoxious unpolished nineteen year old sitting across the aisle from me. How about not taking your shoes off after walking around in leather and no socks all day? I hope she gets a fungus.
On my way out the door that morning, I ransacked my bookshelf looking for something to read on the plane. I came across Bridget Jones’s Diary, a book I received for Christmas the same year the movie came out, and I never bothered to read. I figured it was a nice, light thing to read on a plane, plus, even I like the movie, and I am so anti chick flicks it’s not even funny. During my two fifty minute flights, I managed to plow through more than half of the book. The book reminded me of what I once held as my ideal life. Long before the Arizona Prophecy, and the discovery that my life would be empty without constant adventure, I, too, had that nice notion that being a business woman was the way to go.
Walking down the streets of Manhattan, I was startled by all the good looking young business types with their suits accentuating their “I go jogging before work” physiques. I wasn’t simply startled because there were so many good looking guys (though, living in dog park Toronto that was also a factor), I was startled because they were staring at me! I tried not to look like an idiot looking around to see if there was anyone else around me that they could have been looking at. Of course, then I remembered my last trip to New York for the Coyotes game, and how I was getting marriage proposals on every street corner. It makes me wonder.
Could more than one life path make someone truly happy? Will my adventures end up catching up to me, and causing my star to burn out faster than most? On a shallow and superficial level, it was not hard to picture myself with pretty much any one of those man-things giving me the eyes on 6th Avenue. Though, I should admit that the warm weather was likely a factor – I tend to think a lot more men are good looking in the springtime! Hmm, biology? Anyway, it was easy to see that more conventional life; the career at a successful ad agency, the wine fridge in the condo, and the mundane, “How was work?” dinner conversation. I used to see posters of cartoon yuppies in their black outfits, and sixties inspired hair, and I often wondered if that was what my life was supposed to be like.
As I was leaving my aunt’s house on Monday night, my five year old cousin said in an almost whining tone, “Mommy, Katrina always goes to so many places!” My aunt replied with, “Yes, she has a very fabulous life.” My life, fabulous? Who knew?
Roll the credits…
(Bet you thought I was going with Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind! No, I think you’ve heard that song enough!)
Yay! Another weekly regular feature on Psycho Lady Hockey, who’s excited? Friday Fan Mail will be a weekly mock fan letter written to a member of the hockey community. It should be fun, or totally insane. Anyway, I was going to write a letter to Pierre McGuire this week, but in light of the Lapierre hit in San Jose last night, Bambi has begged me to let her write the inaugural (love?) letter this week. Not to fear, I have a feeling I will be writing several letters to McGuire over the lifespan of this new feature. Enjoy!
Take it away, Bambi!
Dear Stallion,
I’m not sure if you remember me, but we met for the first in Philadelphia during the playoffs a couple years ago. You kept coming over to the bench and doing that ballerina stretch mmmm! You were obviously trying to get my attention, and, well, you got it, big boy! Now I know you weren’t the only guy playing there who was trying to seduce me with the groin stretching that night, but I want you to know that I liked you the best WINK!
I heard about your four game suspension for that sexy hit on poor Scottie Nichol. You’ve been a baaaaaaaad boooooooooy! Don’t worry; I’ve been defending your honour to all of those self-righteous haters out there, *ahem* Ray Ferraro. I understand you. You’re the tall, dark, and mysterious type with so much underlying passion that you can’t possibly keep it under control all the time. You’re like a time bomb of manliness just waiting to explode – the clock just happened to run down in San Jose. It must be so hard for you to have to carry the burden of all this emotional turmoil all by yourself. I think I know a way to help you keep your passion under control…wink wink… What do ya say? You don’t have anything to do until March 13th anyway!
Sexily yours,
Xx Bambi
P.S. I’ve enclosed a picture of what our future son, Bax (Bambi + Max), will look like *trills.* Cute huh? He’s too precious to play hockey; I hope you don’t mind.
The Arizona Prophecy is probably the strangest thing to ever grace the archives of this blog, or ANY hockey related blog for that matter. It’s the one event that seemed to really divide my readers between “fans” and haters. Seeing as this is MY blog, I feel like I can write about MY life anyway that I see fit, but I do realize that the subject matter of this overarching subplot was not for everyone. Anyway, seeing as today is the NHL Trade Deadline, it is also the one year anniversary of the Arizona Prophecy and my launching into what you have now come to know as my Carmen Sandiego-like adventures around the hockey world. So, perhaps for the last time, we look at whatever became of the prophecy, and what I did or did not learn along the way.
Here’s a brief summary for those who are not familiar with the Arizona Prophecy. For about two years leading up to the 2009 Trade Deadline, multiple psychics told me that the man I was “meant to be with” had a connection to Arizona. I should probably clarify that I don’t normally take this stuff seriously, but I do attend a couple psychic fairs a year for fun with friends, etc. It struck me as odd that this Arizona Prophecy was coming up over and over again with different psychics. Anyway, around early November 2008, I started having my own unshakable feelings that this prophecy was about to become a reality.
Seeing as I was always a crazy traveling hockey fan, I knew that I wouldn’t be drawn to Arizona unless it was for hockey. But the Coyotes! Really? (Remember they were CRAPPY then!) Even I thought it was an unlikely move for me to make without the right prompting. However, by November that year I started planning my switch to Phoenix if the pieces fell into place the way I was told they would. Less than four months later, they did.
On March 4th, 2009 the stars aligned and the cards fell exactly as the prophecy foretold. I found myself with a major personal decision to make. Should I ignore this massive thing (sign, manifestation?) that was staring me in the face, and go back to my normal life? Or should I do the ballsy thing and feed my own curiosity, and find out what may or may not be waiting for me in the desert? I had nothing to lose. No matter what, I was going to be following one hockey team or another, so I decided to jump the Coyotes bandwagon and see what came of it. I don’t regret making my decision.
One year later, it is not clear if I found “the one” after spending all the time that I did in the Coyotes camp. Of course, I can’t be sure that I haven’t found him either. Like I said, the Arizona Prophecy is one of the major things that contributed to Psycho Lady Hockey becoming what it is today. I have met a lot of great people and have had a lot of opportunities presented to me because of this success. You can never be sure where your connections will lead you – that’s life. The whole experience felt magical, and I’m really not of the belief that the last year was a complete waste. I’m sure things will reveal themselves in due time, but I will admit that, given the electricity of the situation, it was mildly disappointing that this “mystery man” was not just waiting with open arms the moment I touched down at Sky Harbour or arrived at the rink for my first Coyotes game.
The annoying thing about the Arizona Prophecy, which was also the biggest factor in causing me to back off of it in the long run, was the conclusions that jealous anti-fans and obsessive gentlemen jumped to over my “real reason” for switching teams to Phoenix – trying to land a hockey player via stalking. The Arizona Prophecy was never about marrying a hockey player. It was about letting myself move with the universe, fate, destiny or whatever it is, and go with the flow and see what came of it. I was never even of the attitude that love was what I was meant to find even though that’s what I was told was there. I was open to anything. I suppose the confusing thing was that I determined that the Coyotes played into it somehow. It wasn’t necessarily that I was supposed to find one of the players, I just figured that since I was a traveling hockey writer, this person may appear in the process of me writing about my Coyotes adventures. The accusations finally became too bothersome to put up with; I was tired of having to explain and defend myself to strangers. However, my decision to leave the Coyotes only succeeded in facilitating even more rumours of the same variety.
The positive thing about the Arizona Prophecy was that I learned a lot about myself in the process. I learned about what I was capable of as a person and what I wanted in life. A lot of the flack I get is from misguided individuals who assume I’m a puck bunny because I look a certain way. Because of my history studying these types of fans, I am comfortable with myself as a fan and don’t feel the need to try to convince people I’m not this thing that they don’t even fully understand in the first place. The thing is that I have dated hockey players, which could make me a puck bunny in the eyes of the uneducated. But the thing is that I have been very involved with hockey almost all my life, which means that I would be hard pressed to find anyone to date if I automatically wrote off any guy who ever played hockey in my social circle. I think I know maybe two guys who don’t!
Contrary to popular belief, however, the NHL hockey wife lifestyle is extremely unattractive to me. It’s not something I want for myself. One of the things I’ve learned on this journey was that I am an adventuress. I think I will always be looking for my next adventure. The Arizona Prophecy even helped me to get myself on my career path after I finished school. I realized what I needed in my life to be happy: mystery, travel, excitement, drama, change, unpredictability, and danger. I became very sure of myself and where I needed to go. Now, I would never NOT date someone I liked because of what he did for a living (well…maybe a gynecologist…not sure how I feel about that one), but I think about hockey wives/girlfriends laying by their pools all day with their biggest worries being that their implants are starting to sag and that they haven’t tweeted in the last couple hours to confirm to the world that they are still with their hockey playing golden ticket, and I can’t even imagine my life that way. I can’t imagine exploring the world by its shopping districts and spas alone. It’s a shallow existence to be so concerned with your image. I personally can’t even fathom a life this boring, but then again I’m not the materialistic type. So, I don’t really understand the joy someone might get from splashing money around and trying to act like a “rock star.” They obviously get something from it I would imagine.
Like I said, I learned a lot about myself roaming the proverbial deserts of the Arizona Prophecy. I now know that adventure and experiences are the most valuable and meaningful things I think I can spend my life and breath on. That’s not to say that I want a life without ambition. I’m just saying I will be unhappy if I haven’t seen and done everything that I want to in my lifetime. I need constant movement for my sanity. It’s taking everything I have in me right now to keep me from jumping in the car and driving for days with no specific destination in mind.
The funniest thing about the Arizona Prophecy and that whole soul mate business is that, until all the pieces fell into place and I was faced with the opportunity to find this important person, I was never really preoccupied with love. I usually found that dating just kind of got in the way, so it was really an amazing thing that I even opted to give into the predictions and just charge forward looking for someone that I didn’t even know existed. I guess that meant I was finally ready to consider sharing my adventures with another person. However, after twelve months of NHL suites, Ritz Carltons, and front row hockey tickets, I realized that what I really wanted in terms of love was what I started to refer to as the “shack in the woods” element. Essentially, I want the love of my life to be free of the phony superficial bullshit. I want someone who wants me for me ONLY, not what I have or what I do for a living (and vice versa). Someone who doesn’t have to keep up the sham of our relationship by taking me shopping and buying me shoes. But perhaps that’s a bit of a pipe dream. It seems everyone subscribes to these Paris Hilton-type values these days. Sigh.
As for the future of the Arizona Prophecy, I’m not sure that I want to give up on it entirely. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I’m entertaining the idea of taking another sojourn in Arizona (for non-hockey reasons this time) and giving the whole thing one final chance to manifest. Of course, I did consider that maybe all the prophecy was were predictions that just happened to come true; maybe they meant nothing at all. Regardless, I’m feeling that call to adventure and exploration very strongly again. I found out that there is a good chance that I will be moving far, far, far north for work, and I’m really excited about it if I do get this assignment. So, before I disappear into the isolation of the Arctic wilderness, perhaps one last sweep of the desert is in order, sooner than later, before it becomes more than a destination of inconvenience, and my alleged soul mate is lost to the sands forever.
Roll the credits…
(I still can’t listen to Muse without being reminded of driving around Arizona with the top down at night)
Currently on assignment in Japan until the 2012-13 hockey season.
NHL Rinks Stalked
[47] Air Canada Centre
[08] Wells Fargo Center
[06] First Niagara Center
[05] Scotiabank Place
[05] Joe Louis Arena
[04] Prudential Center
[03] TD Banknorth Garden
[03] Honda Center
[02] Xcel Energy Center
[02] Tampa Bay Times Forum
[02] Pepsi Center
[02] Nassau Coliseum
[02] Bell Centre
[01] Verizon Center
[01] United Center
[01] Staples Center
[01] Scottrade Center
[01] PNC Arena
[01] Nationwide Arena
[01] Madison Square Garden
[01] Jobing.com Arena
[01] HP Pavilion
[01] CONSOL Energy Center
[01] Bridgestone Arena
[01] BankAtlantic Center
[01] American Airlines Center
[02] Mellon Arena*
[01] Maple Leaf Gardens*
*Indicates Inactive Facility
OHL Rinks Stalked
[28] Kitchener Auditorium
[10] Hershey Centre
[09] Gatorade Complex
[08] Sleeman Centre
[03] John Labatt Centre
[02] Powerade Centre
[02] GM Centre
[01] Yardmen Arena
[01] WFCU Centre
[01] RBC Centre
[01] K-Rock Centre
[01] J. Benson Cartage Centre
[01] Bayshore Arena
[01] Barrie Molson Centre
[41] St. Michael's Arena*
[01] London Ice House*
*Indicates Inactive Facility
@FleurDeMar You knew there'd have to be a flaw somewhere LOL At least it's in his throat and not in his... you know... pants... ;) #Gasp9 hours ago
Just heard David Beckham's voice for the first time... Noooooooo!!! That killed it!! :( Oh well! At least he doesn't laugh like Spezza... +1 9 hours ago
Bipedal organisms were not built to scrub Japanese bathtubs... There! I've said it! #TubIsLove10 hours ago
New Book
Hey, hockey fans! I am writing a new book and looking for American and Canadian hockey fans to send me a quick email telling me why they go crazy for hockey. Email me! I look forward to hearing from you!
Down the Rabbit Hole: A Guide to Puck Bunnies (2004)
Yes, it’s true! Bambi has decided to branch out and start her own blog. She felt that having to censor herself for the Psycho Lady Hockey community was too difficult (I know), and she plans to let it all hang on her new site, Bambi’s Locker. Don’t worry (or definitely worry), she will still be guest blogging on here from time to time. Bambi’s Locker, a self-proclaimed “puck bunny blog,” is essentially a place for Bambi and fans to gush and drool over ALL NHL players equally – Bambi never discriminates. She claims she was having technical difficulties building her site, so she hopes that Blogger will only be a temporary home for her posts. For future reference, you can find a link to her blog under Psycho Network in my sidebar. The Network has been launched as Carmen has also shown an interest in starting a blog, but she is still undecided about her subject matter. Stay tuned for details. Anyway, I’m not sure if Bambi has the longevity to sustain a blog, but we will soon find out! All I can say is that I absolutely love the pictures she has taped up in her Locker! Click here to check out Bambi’s Locker now! 
