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I’m going to take the time this gloomy, windy Sunday afternoon in “wild Western New York” to write thank you notes while watching the Bills game, as well as write a few needed letters to deserving ones across the NHL.

Dear Derek,

I don’t know what has gotten into you, but it has got to stop. I mean, it’s bad enough that you didn’t score on Monday for my birthday, but then you completely forgot to get me a present either for my 20th or Christmas, you don’t make up for it against Washington, and then you play as terribly as you did last night to top it off? Puh-lease. Derek, I don’t know what to do about you. I figured when Kim saw you across the street from the mall on Tuesday that you were, for sure, going shopping for me, but I guess you were just indulging yourself. But just let me say this: If I find out that you were eating lots and lots of Christmas cookies and turkey, instead of tofu brownies and tofurkey, you’re in trouble Mister. And truly, if you refuse to shoot the puck–especially on a two-on-one–on Tuesday, I’m breaking up with you again. And believe me, I’ll do it.

Love, Cari

*****

Dear Tommy,

So I see you’re now on the third line… That upsets me. Not because you’re on the third line due to injury, but because you’re hurt. And it’s obvious. You weren’t taking strides if it wasn’t necessary, and you don’t seem to have that burst of intensity that you had a couple weeks ago. I’ll make you some cookies and leave them on your doorstep. Maybe that will help. But, on second thought, Ashley might not appreciate some random girl baking cookies for her man. I’ll leave that up to her, then. But seriously, though, get well soon, Tommy. The Sabres need Atlas.

xoxo, Cari

*****

To Paul and Patty K:

I saw you two last night. Paul, you looked positively smashing in your black suit. Very nice. But Pat? What was with the beanie? I mean, I know that it’s cold in the arena, and yeah, you looked cute, but still… It kind of defeats the purpose of wearing a suit and tie if you’re going to put a winter hat on indoors. Whatever, though. I still enjoyed knowing that you were sitting directly behind me.

Hoping for you speedy return, Cari

*****

Dear Portland Pirates,

I apologize that the Sabres’ injury woes have hurt your position in the standings. Because once we took Mark Mancari from you, I believe in his absence, you only won two games. Sorry. And to make it worse, we now have Nate and Tim, which is only making a difficult situation worse.

Again, sorry. ❤ Cari

*****

Dear Timmykins,

To Timmy C, I love and miss you. What’s happening? Are you still hurt? Are you dead? Have you taken up residence in Childrens’ Hospital, drawing with the children? Because that would be cute. But you could also have taken up residence at the bar at SoHo, drowning your sorrows in bottles of Skyy Vodka or Southern Comfort, and then going home with a different girl each night to disguise the pain… But I’d like to think of you as a really good human being, so I’m going to believe the former. Yeah.

To Timmy K, YAYYY!! I was so excited to read, as Kim pulled into my driveway last night, that you had been called up! And then you were in the starting lineup? Ahhhhh-mazing! I’m so proud of you, Shirley Temple! You played well last night, so we’ll see how the rest of your stay with the Sabes goes.

Fondly, Cari

*****

Dear Sidney,

You’re an asshole.

Love, Cari

*****

Dear Jay McKee,

I hope your finger can be saved. I don’t like to think of amputations, in general, but especially not when they jeopardize the career of one of my all-time favorite hockey players, let alone Sabres. I just can’t imagine a McKee-less NHL. And I don’t want to see it anytime soon.

Best wishes, Cari

*****

Taylor Pyatt,

Maybe breaking your foot will teach you to not block shots from your teammates. I’ll miss you, Bedroom Eyes.

–Cari

*****

To all hockey players,

You’d think you’d learned from Maxim Afinogenov’s mishaps… HOCKEY PLAYERS SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO WARMUP BY PLAYING SOCCER. It should be banned.

Regards, Cari

I had other letters to write, but I just can’t remember them at the moment. I keep getting distracted by the sounds of tree branches snapping and the Bills game. So I’m going to go watch the game, and I’ll come back, possibly with a few more letters, tomorrow. Love…

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So if any of you are friends with me on Facebook, you may have noticed that my status as of last night after the game read like such: “Carianne is really sick of Sidney Crosby, the biased referees, and the anti-Buffalo NHL. But thanks for the birthday wishes!”

I think that pretty much sums up my day.

No, really. It does. I had a fairly decent birthday, if you look past the fact that while I was driving home from work (my Monday shift) around midnight, my windshield cracked. And then Kim and I didn’t go to the Sabres’ practice or Chef’s yesterday, because we figured the streets would have been horrendously snow-bogged. So I missed the possibility of having the guys serenade me with the birthday song over some delicious chicken parmesan. Sad.

Instead, we went to visit our friend Karina (who is home from school in Pittsburgh) and her sister Andrea (who is home from school in Chicago) and we played some Guitar Hero, and they’re both terrible, but Andrea’s singing made it all worthwhile.

Then we sat in the waiting room at the glass place for almost 2 hours, and then it was game time.

Psh. Bullshit. There is no way in hell that the height of Crosby’s stick was less than that of the crossbar. No way. Thanks, Sid. You ruined a perfect pretty good birthday.

I was happy with the play of the Sabres (excluding some glaring mishaps by Numminen, Afinogenov, and some other turnovers and such), but the officiating just blew.

And I’m too angry at the refs and the War Zone operators to say anything else.

I’m just glad Patty K doesn’t have a concussion.

But since my birthday was pretty shitty hockey-wise, I hope Ales Kotalik’s 30th birthday is 1000 times better than my 20th.

SO HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BIG AL!!


Aww, shucks. We’re nine years and 364 days apart. Ain’t that sweet? No, not really.

But, while I’m in the mood to post pictures, here’s a beauty for the Christmas lovers in all of us:


That’s right, kids. The toddler-version of Nathan Gerbe is tearfully afraid of Santa Claus. Now that is sweet.

And do you know what else is sweet? Tim Connolly’s biceps.


To steal a phrase from Caroline, ZANG BABY BOY!!! Hot damn… I knew there was a reason I found you attractive! (Oh, and I stole this picture from the wonderful Shelby Rose’s Facebook.)

Hmm… I suppose I should get to cleaning, since I have a ton of it to do, and it has to be done by 2 pm tomorrow when my Aunt’s flight lands. If it lands. I hate it when relatives stay at my house, because the houses in my area of Kenmore are not that big, and we have a three bedroom house. I live with my parents and my brother, so obviously all three bedrooms are occupied. But who gets the boot every time someone visits? This girl. Fair? Hardly. So I’m going to take up residence on the futon in my game room until Sunday. I hate futons. This is going to be a really uncomfortable week.

So I probably won’t be back until Friday after shopping(!!!), so I hope you, my dear lovelies, have a beautiful holiday season, and if you go out to snow blow your driveway, don’t pull a Joe Sakic and stick your hand in the blades, please!! xoxo

Once again the NHL got the picture perfect ending to a nationally televised hockey game, Sidney Crosby scoring the game winner in overtime. Does that remind anyone of a certain Ice Bowl where said golden boy scored a shootout goal successfully clinching the game for Pittsburgh also on national television? Even better then Crosby scoring the game winner was that, most likely, the guys on Versus, I was at the game so I didn’t hear what they were saying, turned tonights broadcast into ‘How many times can we say how great Crosby is? All I can say is that I’m grateful to Cari, who bought my ticket for tonight’s game for my birthday, that I was able to miss that because usually the Versus broadcasters make me want to projectile vomit all over my TV, successfully covering Squidney’s reasonably handsome, stupid face. Oh Versus, where the commentators know even less about the game then the nearest puck bunny and that’s saying something.
When Buffalo scored less then a minute in the game I got nervous because usually that translates into a quick goal for the other team. However, when we ended the first period still up by a goal my spirits were temporarily lifted, then when Kotalik scored making it 2-0 I was flying high. But my dreams of conquest slowly started to dissipate and the cartoon cloud of doom started to hover when Pittsburgh scored twice tying the score at 2. But Sparky Clarky who has been on fire lately scored on the power play allowing the Sabres to pull ahead 3-2 at the end of the second. Why do you build me up Buffalo Sabres just to let me down? Then everyone knows what happens next Pittsburgh scores sending the game into overtime, which against Pittsburgh usually never bodes well for us, and Squidney gets the game winner with a VERY questionable goal. I still say that the stick was higher then the crossbar as did all the other Sabres’ fans left in the arena who still had hope that the goal would be disallowed. But once again we were all disappointed which to Buffalo is really nothing new I swear we’re getting battered wife syndrome, they keep beating us down yet we keep coming back for more. Go figure.

And how about Petey’s ‘fight’? Or as I like to call it Bromance on Ice because they were literally hugging each other for a good half a minute before the first punch was thrown which got them both 5 minute majors for fighting. How about 2 minutes for unnecessary hugging? I think that would have been a much more appropriatepenalty. Sorry I’m just a little bitter. Okay, well that was a huge understatement a lot bitter but that’s besides the point. Once again Happy Birthday to the best PIC ever and I guess it’s better luck next time we go to a game together which is Saturday actually. Until then Happy Holidays everyone.

SO this is going to be really quick because I’m sitting at Cari’s house eating hot pockets and we’re going to be picking up our friend Jen and her sister Julie so that we can all go to the game tonight and enjoy some Sabres winning… hopefully. I have prayed to the hockey gods long and hard and if they grant my request Squidney Crotchby will get hurt and will be out the rest of the season and will not be able to break his no goal streak and the Sabres will win by about a bazillion goals so if all goes to plan this should be one hell of a game. Oh yeah and it would be great if Paul played but I know the hope is futile, but hey a girl can dream can’t she. 

But ANYWAY, enough of my inane rambling this post is primarily in existence to wish my PIC, or partner in crime a very very happy PAILLE BIRTHDAY. I couldn’t embarrass her today like I wanted to because we didn’t go to a restaurant where they sing to you obnoxiously about how happy they are that it’s your birthday…like they care.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR CARI, may the hockey gods look favorably down upon you and may they grace us with a win tonight in honor of the day you came into existence.

Shady’s back. Celebrate.

Errr, maybe… Sabres are back? Celebrate? Ehh, my attempt at rewriting Eminem’s lyrics are no where near as good as some of the others I’ve attempted, like Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’, Lou Bega’s Mambo #5, or The Foundation’s Build Me Up Buttercup.

Wow. I don’t go off on tangents much…

Are those the Sabres I’m in love with, winning before my very eyes once again? ARE THEY BACK AGAIN? I can honestly say that I think the Sabres have finally woken up and turned the ship around. At least it appears that way, right?

I think we finally got some of that good puck luck that Lindy’s been talking about, ever since the guys apparently gave up on The System.

But seriously, though, I’m too overjoyed that they finally are putting a GOOD streak together to even figure out something to write about… That’s terrible.

OHHHH. But seriously guys? You need to look for me and my beautiful friend Brittany on TV tomorrow. I’ll show you exactly where we’re sitting tomorrow, but I’m still looking for the right picture, but anyways, we’ll be sitting front row in a corner, behind Ryan twice. EXCITING SHIT, as I’ve never sat front row before. And I’ve been going to Sabres games my whole life. Strange…

Did anyone else get really, really, REALLY annoyed that the (a) Versus guys kept talking about the Crosby and Malkin Shows, and the (b) refs totally tried to screw us over and hand the game to the Pens on a silver platter??

It’s a damn good thing we have awesome penalty killers…

And I seriously think Derek is trying to win me back with pretty goals, and a nice point streak, and a point total that’s approaching his pace for last season. Well, it’s working.

BUT DEREK… We need to take our relationship slowly. Obviously, jumping in that deep, that quickly distracted you, and I apologize for being responsible for your slow start. If we take it slow, maybe you can focus more on your game and not be so overwhelmed by our amazing compatibility. That way, you’re happy because you’re playing better, and Lindy’s happy because you’re playing better, and most likely the team is happier because they’ll be winning more, and I’ll be happy because you guys are all happy.

It’s a win-win situation, really.

You know what else is a win-win situation?


AL SCORED!! Okay, so maybe that didn’t make sense, but whatever. I almost never make sense, so it’s appropriate.

But he really does score in all areas of life, because this is his girlfriend:


I’m shocked that it’s not another blonde. Not that there’s anything wrong with blondes, or anything. One of my best friends is blonde. I just think it’s funny that most of them are blonde… Very pretty, though.

And can I just say that I’m really glad that Crosby (or Crotch-by, as I dubbed him at one point last night) was held to a -2, and that my Pittsburgh BF Jordan Staal got nothing. Nothing at all. Love it.

Well, I guess that’s about all I can come up with for now. I’ll probably post later when I’m not in an I-just-woke-up-and-cannot-focus-on-anything stupor.

❤ Sabres.

It’s not very often that you’ll find me ripping on Drew Stafford, because, come on, look at him. How can I rip a guy that cute, with that smirk, who would probably kick my ass despite the fact that I’m a girl.

In the TBN today, there’s a snippet about Drew:

Stafford suffered what’s termed “cauliflower ear,” a common injury among boxers and wrestlers, from a blow during a fight last week in Minnesota. He’s had his left ear drained twice and stuffed with bandages.

“It was more a precautionary thing,” Stafford said. “I didn’t want to have an ear that’s looked like I’ve gone a few rounds. I wanted to make sure I had a decent-looking ear.”

Drew, I had no idea you were so vain. But, I suppose since cauliflower ear could potentially look like this:

I’m glad that you took measures to keep yourself looking like this:


Or, better yet, like this:

So, are you like best friends with Sidney now??? Could you maybe possibly slip my phone number into his phone??? That’d be great. Thanks.

A few other off-topic things:

Here’s a link to the old, old, old bout between Rob Ray and Craig Rivet. Sorry, Craig, but Rob most definitely got the best of you.

The final roster and captaincy is supposed to be announced today, and I have class. Maybe I’ll skip and blog my reactions? And maybe do some shopping? I think that sounds pretty good to me. I mean, it’s only nutrition. Not that difficult of a subject.

And Dave and Adam’s Card World has a couple notable signings coming up:
Craig Rivet, Tuesday October 28th, 7-9 pm, Transit Road location
Jason Pominville, Wednesday October 29th, 7-9 pm, Sheridan Drive location

Please, please, please! if you plan on going to one of these signings, you absolutely have to go to D&A’s website because tickets may or may not be required, and there is a cost involved.

Oh, and please also don’t hold it against me, because I was completely ignorant of the autograph session they had with one Nathan Gerbe. SORRRRRYYY. I totally would’ve gone myself.

‘Til later.

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