He's getting closer. Can you start to smell the glory? Oh, and those tits are probably starting to get a little rank. Nobody's cleaned that pool in a while.
Well look at this. In the last 10 games, the Wings are 7-2-1. That, my dear friends, is currently the best streak in the NHL. Not. Too. Shabby.
It's been a while since we've seen a Wings team that can win on a consistent basis. But we're currently riding a 3 game winning streak - something that we haven't done since December. We're currently winning more often than we're losing - something that we haven't done since the 2008-2009 season. We're currently calmly collecting the names of each individual on the opponent's team, writing them down, making copies in triplicate, filing them away in a secure location, and then stomping the shit out of each and every one of them - something that hasn't been done since before we started asking "What the hell happened to my Red Wings."
There's another big game coming up Friday. How do I know it's a big game? Well, I use a very complex formula. You can try this at home if you like. First, you'll need three sharpened #2 pencils, some pipe cleaners, one gallon of gerain alcohol, a beaker, a live rat, and the knowledge that:
- There all fucking big games.
The game tomorrow is against a year-long cellar dweller. This is a team that is, and has been, sub-par. They've been plagued with injuries - the only team who's been hit harder than the Wings. Hell, they're a solid 11 points behind the 29th spot in the league.
- Doesn't fucking matter.
- Lets not make tomorrow one of those times.
Finally, my apologies for the infrequency of posts lately. It's my spring break so I haven't had the opportunity to be forced to sit in a room and ignore the important things being said that will have a dramatic impact on my future. Further, I regret to inform you that it will not be getting much better anytime soon, as I'll be spending the weekend in the beautiful Clark County Detention Center. Yep, I'm off to a den of sin where various chemical and psychological dependencies are not only tolerated, but they're factored right into the GDP. Off to the adult Chuck E. Cheese, where playing in the ball pit has a whole different meaning. Off to the place where there is no such thing as a "bad decision" or "immature act."
Vegas, baby. Vegas.
Hopefully between now and the time I get back, J-Rock can pick up some of the slack. Hell, maybe jail has Wi-Fi and I'll have the good fortune of being able to upload some beautiful blame game update pictures. Hopefully by then, Babs will be two-rungs up that ladder to glory, inching ever closer to destiny.
Make it happen boys, the dynasty is on the line.