ON A LIGHTER NOTE

I THINK WE ALL NEED TO CHEER UP.

So I bring you the first in what is sure to be a long, looong line of photoshop abominations.

Last night I totally couldn't sleep and in that strange state where you are thinking, but it's not exactly coherent and you can't quite control it, my inner monologue went something like this:

"At least we scored against the... meows. Meooooooooow.  Meeeeeeeeeeow.  We should separate out all the catboys, like Mike Richards..."

So because my subconscious thinks he is a catboy, I present the following.

Fig. 1- Captain Catboy

You know you want a piece of that, you dirty furry.

THERE.  Now you are sufficiently cheered up.

Karma

Rarely do I turn off hockey games. I have sat through more pain and suffering just for the sake of watching hockey than I'd like to admit. But when Boston scored tonight to make it 7-3, I made Schadenfreude hand me the remote so I could turn off the TV and end this.

What had I done wrong? How had I failed them? I had all of my lucky talismans--I had been sleeping in my Giroux t-shirt, avoiding the Dropkick Murphys, and was currently curled up under my Phillies blanket. I had been careful not to disturb the karma. Unfortunately, I was starting to come to the conclusion that maybe they were the ones who had failed me. Like, with some really shitty defense, lack of offensive support, a limp-dick power play and goaltending...well, shockingly, goaltending that was bad but not exactly our main problem tonight, right boys?

The one consolation that I keep giving myself is that it's Game 1 There are at least three games left for them to continue breaking our hearts, because they're a Philadelphia team and that's what they do. Monday night, everything will start over again, and I'll sit in some bar in Boston staring up at the TV and praying hope against hope that my team won't embarrass me this time.

Which is starting to look decidedly unlikely.