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Thursday, December 29th, 2011

The NHL Comeback: Who’s your Daddy, Pittsburgh?!

Pittsburgh, PA “Oh God!! What if I’m PREGNANT!?!?!” I cried, whined, and screamed as I slammed down my third empty glass of cherry flavoured Pepsi at a Kings location just off of the I-79 in Pennsylvania. “I can’t stop drinking this stuff! What if this is a CRAVING?! I DON’T EVEN LIKE CHERRY COKE!!!”

It was the tail end of the 08-09 NHL season, and I was heading home from my first (and extremely epic) Penguins hockey experience at the now abandoned Mellon Arena. I was your textbook panicky 23 year old/ball of paranoia after making a few too many “bad judgement calls” on a previous hockey roadie to see the Phoenix Coyotes take on the Anaheim Ducks in sunny Southern California. “Fuuuuuuck, Mal!! What am I going to do? What if I’ve been knocked up by a stupid douche bag guy and his stupid douche bag baby?!” I was sure of it. The cherry cola craving was the icing on a proverbial cake that was rife with other symptoms. I always knew that hockey would find a way of really screwing me over in the end, and, well, it seemed like the Apocalypse had finally arrived.

I won’t keep you in suspense, if you are, in fact, in suspense. I know you are probably well aware that I have not been toting a baby around over the past few hockey seasons. Yes, the pregnancy test was obviously a glorious single line of negativity and celebration, and so, as far as I know, my womb had not been compromised in Anaheim. As I would discover a few months later in Las Vegas, the Cherry Coke thing was indeed a craving, but it seems to be something my body craves when its in some sort of distress, such as extreme dehydration in the desert heat, or after a night of unintentionally sloppy intoxication on the streets of Pittsburgh. Why do I crave Cherry Coke specifically? I still have no idea.

Fast forward to the 2011-12 hockey season, and I found myself ordering breakfast from that very same Kings location after my first Pens game in the new and spiffy CONSOL Energy Center. I wasn’t hung over (or pregnant), but for old times’ sake I ordered a glass of cherry flavoured Pepsi to go with my food and Frownie. My friend and I (partners in crime since the 2001-02 OHL season) had both been back to Pittsburgh since our now legendary inaugural trip, but not together. “Oh man,” I remarked after a reminiscent sip of my cherry beverage, “Do you remember my pregnancy scare the last time we were here?” I laughed as I took another sip, but truthfully I had nearly forgotten the whole thing. It’s funny how time can make us forget the lethal consequences of our bad behaviour, and I’d definitely be lying if I said I actually learned my lesson (for long) back then.

“Oh, do I ever,” she said, as I suspected she would. You see, over the past 3 years she has been my only source of information for filling in the holes of our first night out in Pittsburgh. A night that involved epic hair disasters, obnoxious rink side manner, mysterious appearing and disappearing nachos, Sidney Crosby autographs, Britney Spears tour buses, and merciless post game attacks on the manhood of certain Penguins players while under the influence of A LOT of various types of alcohol. What’s funny is that 3 years later, I am still learning new things about that first game. This time around I learned that we had taken a cab both to and from the bar after my friend had acquired the much sought after Sid the Kid autograph. I only remember walking away from the gathering of Crosby fans, and stumbling out of the bar while yelling, “Go home, Teenstache!” so I had always just assumed that the bar must have been close to the Igloo, and that we had walked. Not the case, apparently. The bar is actually quite far away, and what I don’t remember from that night could probably fill the pages of a sassy best selling novel.

I wish I could tell you that my first game day experience at the CONSOL Energy Center was just as insane as my first at Mellon Arena, but I can’t. Asia to North America jet lag is a serious bitch. For those of you that have never ventured to the far East, try to imagine the jet lag you get from flying between New York and LA, or Toronto and Vancouver, and then multiple it by a zillion. I am tired ALL. THE. TIME. In fact it was an effort for me NOT to fall asleep during the third period of the Pens/Canes game that night. They say it takes the body one day for every one hour of time difference to adjust from the jet lag, which means that for the 14 hour difference between Toronto and Tokyo, I’ll be adjusted to Eastern Time just as I’m boarding my flight back to Japan on January 8th. Perfect.

The hockey gods saw to it that I was properly welcomed back to the NHL by making me earn my seat at the rink only after conquering the extreme winter weather driving conditions they threw my way. I’m not going to lie, there were definitely some scary situations. We even saw a pick up truck spin out and go into the ditch. Surprisingly, despite being conditioned to cars built for driving on the opposite side of the road, I handled all challenges with, dare I say it, impressive ease. Unfortunately, the horrible weather resulted in a veto on a visit to the Primanti Bros. Strip location, and so, I was forced to get my Pittsburgher cheese steak fix at the rink that night instead. Sadly, it just wasn’t the same.

The post game experience also wasn’t even remotely epic, as a combination of jet lag and an incompetent driver that we swiped from the Marriott across the street from the Pittsburgh arenas by pretending to be guests. Take that, Penguins fans waiting in taxi stands like suckers! Instead of run ins with boys from the team (and obviously there was no babe-o-rama Hal Gill encounter this time either), or adult beverages of any kind, we wound up at your everyday, run of the mill McDonald’s. And if you really want to know, I ordered a caramel sundae as the caramel option is quite scarce in Japan. Exciting, I know.

Anyway, the morning after I was awake bright and early, as the jet lag sees to it that I don’t sleep when I’m supposed to, so I killed some time chewing on a Zagnut bar and manimal watching in the lobby of the same haunted hotel from my 09-10 season opener and double header extravaganza. I’m happy to report that nothing eerie happened this time around. There was one moment where we heard a strange noise that made our hair stand on end for a second, and the room was always a touch too cold, but who knows if that’s anything of importance. The important thing was that there was nothing flying around my hotel room this time!

The drive back to Leafs Nation that day was a little less stressful, and overall an invigorating experience. On my flight home from Narita, Japan on Christmas Eve, I felt like I had just awoken from a very bizarre dream. It was like I had never gone to Japan, and that the last 6+ months had been the product of a psychotic mind as she napped on her flight back from Tampa during the second round of last season’s playoffs. The problem was the reality of my imminent return to the other side of the planet hit me quite hard when I checked my emails from the comfort of my hotel bed the previous evening, and saw that I had a new prospective client back in Japan, and that soon I would return to that life for another 80 days at least.

I had actually been toying with the idea of staying in Japan for an extended period of time. Life over there can’t really be described as anything other than comfortable. It seemed like a waste not to try to make it work for a while, enjoy the world’s most authentic sushi, and learn all there is to know about the Asia League. However, SOME of you will be happy to know that after being back home, albeit for only a few days at this point, I’m not so sure that I can handle much more than the 80 days I have left on my prison sentence, I mean, contract. I think there is a very good chance that I will actually get on that flight on March 31st, and return to the NHL for the second time this season. Besides I feel like a terrible Canadian. After my Pens/Canes match up at CONSOL Energy Center, I have officially checked off ALL the US based NHL arenas from my hit list. How unpatriotic of me to have left Vancouver, Calgary, Edmonton, and Winnipeg (though I don’t feel so bad about that one since it’s new and all) until the very end. Rectifying this situation is now my sole priority! Look out, Western Canada!

Traditional Consumption Figures for Pittsburgh:

Rockstar Energy Drinks: 2
Slim Jims: 3
Overpriced Arena Beer: 1 (Blame the jet lag.)
Primanti Bros: 1

Tags: Carolina Hurricanes, NHL Comeback, Pittsburgh Penguins

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Tuesday, November 29th, 2011

The Return to Yokohama: I remember You…

Through the sleepless nights, and every endless day. I’d wanna hear you say, I remember you.

Yokohama, Japan Japanese mosquitos are a unique breed. They strike like ninjas in the night. You won’t know they’ve attacked until they have flown away to safety. Their bite is painless. You could watch them land on you, and go in for the kill, and still feel nothing. But don’t let that small nicety fool you; their bites swell like nothing you’ve seen before, and can blemish your skin for months after the cunt has likely laid her eggs and died. They are beasts. They are monsters. And they cannot be stopped! And their buzzing! Their incessant buzzing keeps me from any semblance of sleep I might be awarded in the night. The neon lights in my apartment fry my brain as I desperately attempt to hunt the vile succubus and hurl an exercise ball at her for a much more dramatic splat. The pitcher in me never misses, but the problem is tracking down the Blood Queen’s hiding place. This is a process that can sometimes take all night, and definitely not something you want to be doing the night before your 6AM departure to yet another Asia League game in Yokohama…

All the way to Yokohama I could think about only one thing – STARBUCKS! Asia brings out the coffee drinker in me, and, trust me, I’ve never been known to drink it at home – ever! But, boy, do I drink it here! I suppose it was inevitable that I would need to find a Rockstar replacement eventually, even though you can actually get Rockstars here. Unfortunately, they are the size of a Redbull, and are only available in the original flavour, though, so I’m not such a fan!

Anyway, I had a game plan in my head all visualized for when I pulled up to the Skate Center for the second time this month. I knew exactly how many blocks away the Starbucks was, and how to get there. I went on foot, despite the pissing rain that had accompanied me on my entire drive down, which by the way, was a full on flood by the time the Free Blades/High1 game let out! I felt a strange sense of deja vu as I wandered past the big city buildings of Yokohama to the sanctity of my Gingerbread Latte, and it occurred to me that I could have been in Philadelphia or Chicago, and wouldn’t have even noticed the difference. I gasped when I realized that I actually had a pre-game routine again, and it felt pretty good, actually. I think my relationship with the Asia League just went to the next level!

A couple hits of caffeine later, and the puck was ready to drop in the Shin Yokohama Skate Center. High1 was Halla’s opposition at my first ever Asia League game last season in Korea, so I was greatly looking forward to seeing some good looking Korean men again! It’s true what they say – you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone! Of course, the downside of that was that the presence of the Koreans threw me right back into Korean-mode, which is something I’ve been struggling with for the last 5 and a half months. I think the reason I have a more difficult time picking up Japanese is because my natural response is to want to speak Korean, and in that split second that my brain needs to throw out the Korean word and try to remember the Japanese word, I lose all confidence in my delivery! Ahhh Shibal!! Oops… there I go again.

I also found myself reflecting on the two lives that I have led in both countries, and their differences. The two countries are like night and day, and my personal experiences in them equally polarized. I definitely had a lot more “fun” in Korea, but I was also miserable. In Japan I lead a very wholesome and mundane life, and yet I am contented – the car probably has something to do with that. Although I consider Japan a much more global country, Korea is definitely much more Americanized. At the game they even put their hand over their heart for their national anthem just like the Americans. I will say, though, that I wish I still lived in a country that didn’t make peanut butter an endangered commodity – for when the mood strikes, you know! And I wish my cab fares were still only $2!!!

The layout at the rink was different this time! The glass seats were gone (shucks!) and so was half the crowd. I guess they needed more seats to accommodate the “special event” crowd two weeks before. I was banished off to the side in the High1 end zone where I met a family of crazy New York Rangers fans. And get this, of all the players to get on the back of their jersey they picked Psycho Lady Hockey favourite, Sean Avery! Yes, Sean Avery!

It was kind of an interesting story about that jersey, too! It was purchased directly from the NYR mothership at Madison Square Garden during the couple’s honeymoon! Hmm NHL-themed honeymoon?!? Doesn’t sound like a bad idea. The little guy’s jersey was obviously purchased at another time, as a “web order” so I was told. I don’t know what it is about a Rangers jersey, but they make every kid look absolutely adorable, and that goes for Kitchener, too! I spent most of the second and third period helping him use the noise-maker-fan-thing they gave out at the game, “Wow! Sugoi! Good job!” Then he gave me some cookies.

Well, the Free Blades finally won a game in my presence, which meant that I wasn’t horribly shamed in my new Tohoku jersey! Reebok was sponsoring the event, and they had a booth set up and a ridiculous sale going! The jerseys were going for 3,900 yen reduced from 12,000!! I may have purchased more than one… Guess what you’re getting for Christmas, Uncle Rob!?

After the game the post game traditions took effect. I ran into the 7-Eleven next to the rink to take out cash in case the parking was even more ridiculous than it was two weeks before. Then I had my usual death ride back through Tokyo and the Roppongi district on a Saturday night to look forward to. By the time I reached Tokyo the storm had taken on typhoon like qualities. Broken umbrellas lay helpless all over the streets and sidewalks. During this treacherous commute through the big city, The Wombat’s Tokyo came on my iPod. I always love it when my music syncs up with my life.

Again, after I knew I had survived the concrete jungle that is Tokyo, I celebrated with the traditional Big and Hot in the back of the KFC parking lot. Relax, it’s not what you think (though I wish it was!!!!). It’s just some silly sandwich that I’m not even sure if I like all that much, but by the time my stomach has declared that it won’t wait for dinner any longer, the KFC is the first thing that shows up on my side of Route 6! It’s like clockwork!

By the time I made it home, it wasn’t all that late, but I was dying for sleep. As a former hockey road trip junky and insomniac, sleep has become something I’ve learned to appreciate. However, living next to a train station, near an air force base, and in a country where decent sized earthquakes hit by the hour, sleep is not something that can be taken for granted. Of course, by the time I turned the lights out, and my weary head hit the pillow, a blood-thirsty whore began buzzing in my ear. She is now a menacing red smear on my wall, which I have decided to leave there to send a message to the others.

Countdown to the NHL Comeback: 24 days!

Tags: Asia League, Chuncheon High1, Tohoku Free Blades, Yokohama

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Wednesday, November 16th, 2011

Asia League weekend extravaganza in Yokohama.

Yokohama, Japan Going a month without any hockey road trips may not seem like very long to you, but to a girl like me it was a very, very, very long month of abstinence. However, when game day finally arrived, I experienced a lot of mixed feelings again. I was headed down past the danger zone a.k.a. Tokyo towards beautiful Yokohama for a 1PM puck drop. Now this drive can take around 5 hours on a good day, but on a Saturday I feared I’d be in traffic for hours and miss the first game of the double header at the Shin Yokohama Skate Center that afternoon, which made for a very stressful commute. I was out the front door at 6AM that morning hoping that the hockey gods would help me get to the rink on time… and in one piece, too.

Oh, I should also add that I had been fighting off illness and mosquitoes the night before, too! I must have drank 5 litres of that Vitamin C.C. Lemon stuff to keep the potential flu at bay before puck drop. It’s weird, but for some reason I never get sick here even though I will periodically feel like I’m about to come down with something. I’m lucky, I guess, or perhaps it’s just the power of 210 lemons worth of vitamin C in every bottle! And as for those pesky mosquitos, all I have to say is this…. It’s November! Why aren’t you dead yet!?! You should see the state of my neck. It looks like some overzealous Twihard went to town in anticipation of opening night.

Anyway, around 11:30 that morning Paul Kariya (the vehicle) and I (somehow) pulled up to the tiny rink hidden away in the same neighbourhood as the gigantic Yokohama Arena, which actually appears to be purely for “symphonies” and other high calibre “cultural” experiences. You can bet your ass I found that out the hard way, too! Luckily there was a security guard there that was able to say, “ice hockaaay” with his hands in an X configuration, so I’d know to move along and try again somewhere else.

Once the real location of the hockey tournament-ish thing was locked down, and the 4,000 yen (roughly $52) parking fee was paid (I know, even the Leafs aren’t THAT brutal), I was in line with the rest of the fans that were ogling the talent (the boys were warming up on the street), and making their game plans for securing their seat of choice. It’s usually a free for all. You pay to sit at a certain price level, but no actual seat number is assigned. Little did I know that I had actually paid to sit behind one of the benches. I didn’t do it on purpose – honest I didn’t!

It was a good thing I had bench seats because, once again, there was only so much non-puck-in-play entertainment I could gather from the fans. It was another local crowd, which actually really surprised me because I thought being close to Tokyo there’d be more Canadians willing to embrace our sport by actually showing up, but nooooo. I think I saw two Charisma Men, and a possible third from across the ice, but I couldn’t confirm that, and I was too lazy to go over and investigate. Of course, there were some familiar die hards there, too! The Nikko Rowdies, as I have officially called them, came equipped with drums, fury, and even that El Orange banner they love so much. Oh, and I should mention that I did see a guy wearing not one, but TWO Flyers jerseys! You could see a faint Richards #18 bleeding through from underneath his top layer! Poor Michael.

Since I didn’t have any Canadians to stalk, I had the benches to amuse me. I found myself guilty of paying more attention to what language the players and coaches were communicating in than the actual game. I’m sorry, I have a degree in Linguistic Anthropology, wanna fight about it? I noticed that the “import” member of the coaching staff would communicate in English to everyone on the team, albeit somewhat slowly. I loved listening to the lectures and watching the faces of the non-import players pretending to understand. Obviously as soon as the pep talk was over, they’d turn to the “non-import” coach with the standard Japanese I-don’t-understand, “EEUUUUUHHH?!?!” (It drives me NUTS when my students do that, by the way! You know what, “Hello” means, dammit!), so the non-import coach can translate everything the other guy just said. Man… I wish they sold popcorn at the Skate Center!

Another amusing bench drama was the one going on between me and every single one of the import players on all four of the teams playing in the extravaganza that day. As I’ve mentioned, other than the odd Charisma Man, I am the extent of the foreign population that goes to these Asia League games in Japan it seems. You could tell that they hadn’t seen a non-Asian girl at one of their games in a very, very, very long time. And if the fact that I was wearing an honest-to-God cat hood (what… it’s a very practical hat, scarf, and pair of mittens all rolled into one!) wasn’t enough to keep them from looking away out of fear that my crazy might rub off on them, then I don’t know what is! I should note that both teams I was sitting behind LOST that day by scores of 6-2 and 5-2 – ouch! Do I smell several potential take downs?! Only time will tell…. hahaha just kidding! I’ve been in Japan so long, I’m practically a virgin. I will say, though, that I think I really have been in Japan for too long because all the import players are starting to look the same to me – WEIRD!

After the horn sounded to end the second of the two games on day one of whatever it is this thing was supposed to be, and the players had all bowed to the fans, I was homeward bound with a nice drive through Tokyo on a Saturday night to look forward to (sarcasm). The Asia League holds special events like this all season long. This time only the four Japanese members of the League participated in the event: the Eagles, IceBucks, Paper Cranes, and Free Blades. It was a two day event, and each team played two games, so it wasn’t a proper tournament. If anything this event was a way to showcase the game of hockey to other parts of the country. The next Asia League extravaganza I have my eye on is next month in Tokyo. The two Korean teams will be participating, and if I know those Halla fans, they are definitely Psycho enough to grab a flight from Incheon just in time for puck drop!

Countdown to my (temporary?) NHL return: 38 days!

Tags: Asia League, Nikko IceBucks, Nippon Paper Cranes, Oji Eagles, Tohoku Free Blades

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Thursday, November 10th, 2011

A brief note on the pedestal of the sports figure…

Somewhere on the Eastern shore of Japan I think I need to take a LONG Twitter vacation because I swear every time I go on there something new disturbs me, or rather something old disturbs me in a new and exciting way. The last few days I’ve been following this whole Penn State scandal, and I’ve nearly made some very aggressive tweets on the matter several times, but chose to stay out of it due to the fact that I have no business commenting on anything related to an inferior sport like CAAAALLAAAAGE football. However, I was quite put off when I noted that a frightening number of people seemed to be outraged, not because Coach Paterno had turned a blind eye to sexual abuse, but rather because he was being punished for it.

Of course, I’m the last person to ever say the politically correct thing, but I have always found it quite repulsive that sports figures tend to be given a free pass with their social, and, evidently, legal ethics. These are two very different things, but my personal (and on going) defense of the “puck bunny” has stemmed from this very problem. I can’t stand the fact that these women can be abused and mistreated to the degree that a lot of them are, and get blamed and labelled for it like they had somehow asked for it, and deserved it, and, moreover, that the players that abuse them come out completely unstained. Fans, and even society as a whole, it seems, put hockey players, and other sports icons on a proverbial pedestal that is so high that all blemishes are completely invisible to the naked eye.

We saw this recently in our own sport over the past couple of weeks, as well, with the Neepawa Natives story. After enduring a very sexually abusive hockey hazing ritual, a vile percentage of the community demanded that the victim apologize for essentially bringing his team and town under the microscope by speaking out against the heinous act. What. The. @#$%?!

I suppose, for me, it’s not just a matter of what is right versus what is wrong, so much as not being able to grasp why fans are STILL just so… ridiculous. I can’t understand why fans put so much stock into the character of the sports figure, especially considering most of them haven’t the slightest clue what any of them are really like when TV cameras and autograph tables aren’t present. All these ridiculous PSU fans tweeting about how “devastated” they are because of what happened make me want to vomit because, for the most part, they are only devastated to be losing a winning coach. Again, I’m the last person to dictate what the “normal” etiquette should be because abnormal is my middle name, but it seems to me that if something similar happened to one of my hockey teams, I wouldn’t be “devastated.” I might be shocked, but, bottom line, I’d be quite grateful that those individuals had been removed from my team, and hopefully, my town. I can also say that I sure as Hell wouldn’t be trying to make a victim out of the man that shut his eyes while boys were being raped for the past decade.

I don’t want to get into another one of those drawn out rants that I am prone to doing, so in closing I will play Devil’s advocate (slightly) in defense of some of the more moronic tweeters out there. Yes, you are absolutely correct that a scandal like this does not change the career Joe Paterno had. I mean, IF Wayne Gretzky committed a murder, would he not still be the best hockey player of all time? Of course he would be. However, in the case of Mr. Paterno, now is not the time to be preaching about such things.

P.S. This also applies to the dumbasses that tweet in blind support of a scum sports figure after (s)he tweets similar misguided opinions. Although, I will admit that I find the backtracking after said tweets to be quite amusing. Like the individuals that delete their tweets in support of Coach Paterno, then feign on and on about how their “heart hurts.” Oh, please. The fakeness makes me want to stab myself in the eye. Do yourself (AND THE WORLD) a favour, and shut up already.

Tags: jock sniffers, ridiculous fans

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Wednesday, November 2nd, 2011

The Art of the Hockey Dick Pic

Gentlemen take polaroids…

Somewhere on the Eastern shore of Japan It is by pure coincidence that Psycho Bambi, in her infinite bitchdom, made an unprovoked rant on poor Mike Zigomanis a few weeks ago, wherein she spewed, ‘Besides, who knows what diseases come along with a guy that basically walks around with his dick out, while asking the world, “Who’s hungry?” Gross.’ Who knew that “walking around with his dick out” was something Mr. Zigomanis was actually quite fond of doing?! I know I sure didn’t…

Hockey fans in Toronto and all over the internet were given an extra fright on the days leading up to Halloween when dick pics allegedly belonging to Mike Zigomanis surfaced online. I say allegedly because, as you can see, his face is conveniently [Psycho Bambi: and thankfully!!!] absent from the photos, but if you want my *uninformed* opinion, those effeminate yoga pants are very incriminating. Sadly, or rather, hilariously, this is the second incident in recent years that Toronto hockey fans were overexposed to some of the Leafs’ part time players. Poor things. I’m sure your eyesight was still recovering from the Jiri Tlusty incident before the Zigomanis penis likely made you blind for life.

Anyway, before I actually comment on the hockey species’ apparent love for taking disturbing iPhone photos of their mini sticks/stripper poles, I would just like to ask the world who these total bitch-whores are that leak these photos in the first place?! Seriously, how mean are you? I mean, I am a TOTAL CUNT with a mean streak longer than 50 Zigomanis penises. But that being said, even I can’t imagine fucking someone over this badly. Besides, who is dumb enough to upload a private picture when that person will know exactly that you were the recipient, and, therefore, the culprit? In theory, of course. After all, some guys probably have a standard go-to shot that they send to all of their prospective lays.

Back to the hockey players. Guys, what’s wrong with you? Perhaps the fact that you haven’t made the TSN highlight reel in, well, ever, or that you didn’t get your name in the paper for the GWG you definitely didn‘t score has made you forget that you are still a member of a professional hockey organization, and that your risque behaviour reflects badly on your employer and teammates. So, get your head, or rather camera, out of your ass! Next time you get that familiar urge to give an unsuspecting puck bunny a peepshow she won’t soon forget, ask yourselves these questions:

1) Am I still (or ever have been) a member of a multimillion dollar hockey organization?

2) Did I just meet the puck bunny I’m about to flash, and do I barely know her?

3) Am I planning to fuck over the puck bunny I’m attempting to lure with my candid cock shot by either using and abusing, and/or fucking and chucking her?

4) Will I be embarrassed or on thin ice if my mother or wife/girlfriend was to discover this picture?

If you answered YES to any of these questions, then step away from the camera for the love of God! It’s not rocket surgery!

In the case of Mike Zigomanis, I have to wonder, given his Tweet feed, if he actually leaked his own dick pics as an attempt to get laid. You have to admit, it kind of fits. I guess the world will never know. Now, as for the rest of you camera loving hockey players out there, remember these wise words the next time Mr. Happy is ready for his close up:

If you have to resort to taking a picture of your penis in order to get a date, then obviously you ain’t all that above the waist, and, more importantly, on the ice.

There. That should make Mr. Happy one sad panda.

Tags: Dick pics, Jiri Tlusty, Mike Zigomanis

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