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	<title>Psycho Lady Hockey &#187; Carmen</title>
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	<description>Stalking a hockey rink near you. Oh my!</description>
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		<title>Coyotes@Red Wings 24 Style – Bambi Does MotorCity.</title>
		<link>http://www.psycholadyhockey.com/coyotesred-wings-24-style-%e2%80%93-bambi-does-motorcity/</link>
		<comments>http://www.psycholadyhockey.com/coyotesred-wings-24-style-%e2%80%93-bambi-does-motorcity/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 28 Jan 2010 18:44:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Psycho Lady</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bambi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Carmen]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Detroit Red Wings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[hockey addicts]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[hockey fans]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Phoenix Coyotes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[puck bunnies]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[road trips]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[


 Since January 26th was the first birthday of Psycho Lady Hockey, it seemed only fitting that I celebrate the occasion with a hockey game. (Did you know that it was Wayne Gretzky’s birthday that day, too? I feel special!)  I wasn’t feeling too adventurous, so I figured a game close to home would [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Since January 26th was the first birthday of Psycho Lady Hockey, it seemed only fitting that I celebrate the occasion with a hockey game. (Did you know that it was Wayne Gretzky’s birthday that day, too? I feel special!)  I wasn’t feeling too adventurous, so I figured a game close to home would be the best. I’ve been to Detroit several times for games, including Phoenix games. It’s a usual haunt for me. So, anyone who may have “questioned” why I would have gone there would clearly have just been looking for a pointless excuse to open communication with me – I figure. </p>
<p>Anyway, a few days before the game, Bambi begged and pleaded with me to let her go to the game in my stead. I was pretty leery about this given Bambi has a terrible track record at hockey arenas. And I’m not talking in the sense that she is bad luck for one team or the other, but rather, sometimes, she takes the puck bunny behaviour a little too far.  The last time Bambi was at a game, she was so taken with the fact that one of the players kept smiling at her (and I have to admit, he was a total babe), that, upon him scoring in the remaining five minutes of the game, she ripped her top off and started waving it around her head like a lasso. I should also point out that she neglected to wear a bra to this event.  And I should also-also point out that this was a minor league game! It has been years since I have let her go to another game with good reason. </p>
<p>For those of you who don’t know Bambi, she is a raging puck bunny who embraces the term and the lifestyle.  But don’t be fooled by that fact, she still knows a shitload about hockey. She is a bleach blonde, fake tanned, wannabe Barbie doll stripper, and that’s why we love her. She can be a bit self-centred, bitchy, and in many ways evil, but I think that’s all part of her appeal. To get to know Bambi, make sure you <strong><a href="http://twitter.com/psycho_bambi">click here to follow her on Twitter</a>. </strong>Don’t forget to <strong><a href="http://twitter.com/psycho_carmen">follow Carmen as well</a>,</strong> so the poor girl doesn’t get a complex that nobody likes a daywalker… I mean…red head.  </p>
<p>Take it away, Bambi.</p>
<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HQn33YHkI/AAAAAAAAAyo/47fHQDf9Tw0/s1600-h/covertops+008.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HQn33YHkI/AAAAAAAAAyo/47fHQDf9Tw0/s200/covertops+008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431852009015221826" /></a>OK, so I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say here. I was told to take pictures of myself every hour, and that’s it. Whatever. I left the T-dot extra early. I had to sneak away while Carm was in the shower, so she wouldn’t cramp my style. Hello, sometimes hot guys try to pick you up on the highway, and I really don’t need a head full of ginger cock blocking me, thanks. I didn’t see too many prospects, though, there were these two guys working at the Esso when I stopped for gas that just WOULD NOT STOP STARING. Take a picture, right?</p>
<p>The border guard was hot, but a total douche bag. He thought I looked dangerous or some shit. He asked me if I had ever been arrested. Umm for what, buddy? All the illegal porn you’re currently fantasizing about me doing in your head right at this moment? Please, let me through already, so you can take a Jergens break.  It was kind of funny that while I was crossing the border to come back to Canada, they asked me similar questions. Did I have pepper spray on me? I can see how that would be a legitimate concern. They obviously thought I needed to know how to defend myself against an onslaught of negative male attention.  Little did they know that negative male attention is my favourite!</p>
<p>The game was wicked awesome! Psycho and Carm were texting me saying how jealous they were that I was at the Joe and they weren’t. I’d like to point out that I’m pretty sure the Coyotes won because of me. The entire friggin’ team was staring down my shirt all night! And let me tell you, what I’ve got going on down there inspires great things. You’re welcome, Phoenix.</p>
<p><strong>That’s all I really have to say, I’m supposed to pick a song now for the “credits” or something lame like that…</strong></p>
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<p><strong>10 AM<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HSuhQyzLI/AAAAAAAAAyw/vKqxRZaFXQ4/s1600-h/detroit+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HSuhQyzLI/AAAAAAAAAyw/vKqxRZaFXQ4/s400/detroit+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431854322230152370" /></a> Stole the keys from Carm and heading off to D-Rock. I know what you&#8217;re thinking, and yes, they are real. </strong><br />
<strong><br />
11 AM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HT1K_MZeI/AAAAAAAAAy4/VgfO2egjvYM/s1600-h/detroit+004.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HT1K_MZeI/AAAAAAAAAy4/VgfO2egjvYM/s400/detroit+004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431855536021464546" /></a>Stopped at the &#8216;Rents to drop off some ish. No one was home, so I left them a friendly note on the fridge.</strong></p>
<p><strong>12 PM<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HUalwNrjI/AAAAAAAAAzA/BdbCnNeI2n8/s1600-h/detroit+005.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HUalwNrjI/AAAAAAAAAzA/BdbCnNeI2n8/s400/detroit+005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431856178861551154" /></a> Attempting to take a picture of myself in the mirror. FAIL. </strong></p>
<p><strong>1 PM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HUzTGP7MI/AAAAAAAAAzI/auGAKGxuUS0/s1600-h/detroit+008.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HUzTGP7MI/AAAAAAAAAzI/auGAKGxuUS0/s400/detroit+008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431856603350428866" /></a> I don&#8217;t know why people always think I&#8217;m up to no good&#8230;</strong><br />
<strong><br />
2 PM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HVQwe_7aI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/8AqdISvuFHE/s1600-h/detroit+009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HVQwe_7aI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/8AqdISvuFHE/s400/detroit+009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431857109455072674" /></a> Great Success!</strong></p>
<p><strong>3 PM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HWMxa0PtI/AAAAAAAAAzY/tF6GGBDG9g4/s1600-h/detroit+011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HWMxa0PtI/AAAAAAAAAzY/tF6GGBDG9g4/s400/detroit+011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431858140498116306" /></a>Psycho told me to be cautious if I felt like I was receiving some type of sign. Between 3 and 4 PM I started randomly taking pictures of the radio. I came out with three pictures: Trouble, Phoenix, Warning. How interesting.</strong></p>
<p><strong>4 PM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HWoToVaoI/AAAAAAAAAzg/GE160UEJ-hg/s1600-h/detroit+012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HWoToVaoI/AAAAAAAAAzg/GE160UEJ-hg/s400/detroit+012.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431858613538089602" /></a>Stopped for some Lupper just before the bridge. It&#8217;s like no matter where I go, Carmen is always right there with me!</strong><br />
<strong><br />
5 PM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HXHdyJfTI/AAAAAAAAAzo/HYMmtH6lBJo/s1600-h/detroit+013.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 324px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HXHdyJfTI/AAAAAAAAAzo/HYMmtH6lBJo/s400/detroit+013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431859148839550258" /></a> Sitting in front of the Joe. I got bored, so I decided to send some assholish text messages to Grand Rapids with hilarious results.</strong></p>
<p><strong>6 PM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HXx5HuUbI/AAAAAAAAAzw/ePaxP4qo1Eo/s1600-h/detroit+014.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HXx5HuUbI/AAAAAAAAAzw/ePaxP4qo1Eo/s400/detroit+014.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431859877732307378" /></a> Me and my Jungle Juice!</strong></p>
<p><strong>7 PM<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HbgP0imDI/AAAAAAAAA0g/u4oVwNhhnvI/s1600-h/detroit+017.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HbgP0imDI/AAAAAAAAA0g/u4oVwNhhnvI/s400/detroit+017.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431863972634728498" /></a>One of the few moments this kid wasn&#8217;t all over my stuff. It was like he knew me or something. Probably in his dreams LOL!</strong></p>
<p><strong>8 PM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HYxJPFj1I/AAAAAAAAA0A/96F3GYQVO_c/s1600-h/detroit+018.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HYxJPFj1I/AAAAAAAAA0A/96F3GYQVO_c/s400/detroit+018.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431860964389916498" /></a> My homeboy,Todd Bertuzzi! </strong></p>
<p><strong>9 PM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HZHto3lUI/AAAAAAAAA0I/heh5_mMjvkg/s1600-h/detroit+019.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HZHto3lUI/AAAAAAAAA0I/heh5_mMjvkg/s400/detroit+019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431861352118850882" /></a>Random view from my seat! HOTT!</strong></p>
<p><strong>10 PM<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HZupPsK_I/AAAAAAAAA0Q/jQw1MV8GQWo/s1600-h/detroit+022.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HZupPsK_I/AAAAAAAAA0Q/jQw1MV8GQWo/s400/detroit+022.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431862020954401778" /></a>Home again. More of me, me, me, me!</strong><br />
<strong><br />
11 PM <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HatCg6SwI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/9PhPFrbKVVY/s1600-h/detroit+026.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_38xe78Detgg/S2HatCg6SwI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/9PhPFrbKVVY/s400/detroit+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431863092889406210" /></a> Stupid biatch working the McDonald&#8217;s behind PUCK MASTERS screwed up my order. I was too hungry and cold to go in and complain, though. Anyway, sorry people, but I lost interest in the whole &#8220;24&#8243; project at this point. Going on road trips by yourself is HARD. I don&#8217;t know how Psycho Lady does it&#8230;seriously!</strong></p>
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