FLORIDA PANTHERS @ DETROIT RED WINGS
7:30 -- Joe Louis Arena
Panthers: 8-9-2 (18 pts), 13th in East | Wings: 10-6-3 (23 pts) 9th in West
________________________________________________________
Panthers blog of choice: Litter Box Cats
*****
OH SNAP Y'ALL--
That's right. You know what it's time for: NHL Officials Association... Dot. Fucking. Com.
Have you seen this? I pity the fool who hasn't, because you've been missing out on some of the dopest shit on the net.
You want graphics? Fuck me. You have come to the right place, sir. Here you get ice dimensions out the ass, plus a shot of Bill McCreary looking like warm pee is running down his leg.

*****
Do you wish you were one of these striped mother fuckers? It's as easy as pretending to blow a whistle. CTRL + V that shit:
"Remember, whether you are a first time official, have some experience, or are looking to officiate after or during a playing career ( at any level ). The key to your success is you. You need to get out there and 'just do it' " (No really, that's actually what it says. With the absence of a period at the end and everything.)
Nothing on this godforsaken planet is more motivating than that last paragraph. I now feel like I could bench press a pregnant horse.
*****
Becoming a referee wouldn't feel as rewarding if it weren't for a taste of tradition. What enhances tradition? Dead people.
Well, you've seen Mount Rushmore. It's Mount Queermore compared to this historic list of zebra legends:

Vern Buffey. George Hayes. John fucking McCauley. By Zeus' beard, I can't believe they aren't charging us by the second to read this shit. You think you're blowing a call with the ghost of Red Storey peering over your shoulder? Don't be an idiot. Of course not. And don't think for a fucking second that John D'Amico doesn't know where you sleep. Even in Heaven he wears an eye patch, but with the good eye even he can tell interference from a good clean puck battle. Hell, I can still hear that old bag of bones now .... "You lost sight of the puck? What are you, gay?"
*****
We've saved the Holy Grail for last. If your balls are constantly wet, all of your problems are now one click away. Your next BJ can be forwarded directly to the lap of a Reebok exec thanks to the "ultimate moisture management" of the Toasty Tight.

We're talking 76% micro-polyester here. We're talking the finest in spandex technology to keep your taint warm and your shame hidden under the tightest of coverage.
Oh tap dancing Christ. The things I would do to moose-knuckle my way into a pair of those things. Best part: sweet ass whistle logo, nestled right next to the goods. Intend to blow this, bitch.
*****
It goes without saying. I am now properly pumped to watch the Wings take on the Panthers.
If you are as excited as me to watch a game officiated by men of dry balls, don't just sit there. Tell them about it. And while you're there, tell them anything else that may be on your mind.
7:30 -- Joe Louis Arena
Panthers: 8-9-2 (18 pts), 13th in East | Wings: 10-6-3 (23 pts) 9th in West
________________________________________________________
Panthers blog of choice: Litter Box Cats
*****
OH SNAP Y'ALL--
That's right. You know what it's time for: NHL Officials Association... Dot. Fucking. Com.
Have you seen this? I pity the fool who hasn't, because you've been missing out on some of the dopest shit on the net.
You want graphics? Fuck me. You have come to the right place, sir. Here you get ice dimensions out the ass, plus a shot of Bill McCreary looking like warm pee is running down his leg.

*****
Do you wish you were one of these striped mother fuckers? It's as easy as pretending to blow a whistle. CTRL + V that shit:
"Remember, whether you are a first time official, have some experience, or are looking to officiate after or during a playing career ( at any level ). The key to your success is you. You need to get out there and 'just do it' " (No really, that's actually what it says. With the absence of a period at the end and everything.)
Nothing on this godforsaken planet is more motivating than that last paragraph. I now feel like I could bench press a pregnant horse.
*****
Becoming a referee wouldn't feel as rewarding if it weren't for a taste of tradition. What enhances tradition? Dead people.
Well, you've seen Mount Rushmore. It's Mount Queermore compared to this historic list of zebra legends:

Vern Buffey. George Hayes. John fucking McCauley. By Zeus' beard, I can't believe they aren't charging us by the second to read this shit. You think you're blowing a call with the ghost of Red Storey peering over your shoulder? Don't be an idiot. Of course not. And don't think for a fucking second that John D'Amico doesn't know where you sleep. Even in Heaven he wears an eye patch, but with the good eye even he can tell interference from a good clean puck battle. Hell, I can still hear that old bag of bones now .... "You lost sight of the puck? What are you, gay?"
*****
We've saved the Holy Grail for last. If your balls are constantly wet, all of your problems are now one click away. Your next BJ can be forwarded directly to the lap of a Reebok exec thanks to the "ultimate moisture management" of the Toasty Tight.

We're talking 76% micro-polyester here. We're talking the finest in spandex technology to keep your taint warm and your shame hidden under the tightest of coverage.
Oh tap dancing Christ. The things I would do to moose-knuckle my way into a pair of those things. Best part: sweet ass whistle logo, nestled right next to the goods. Intend to blow this, bitch.
*****
It goes without saying. I am now properly pumped to watch the Wings take on the Panthers.
If you are as excited as me to watch a game officiated by men of dry balls, don't just sit there. Tell them about it. And while you're there, tell them anything else that may be on your mind.


