In less than 3 hours until all of the shit hits the fan at once.
The bomb goes off.
Everything reaches critical.
Something explodes while something else implodes.
Particles start racing around at absolute zero.
I'm wired. I'm really nervous right now. It's like when you drink a ton of beers and you double fisted Miller Light cans out in the open in DE and when the cop pulled you over he found out you were under 21, and you were drunk in public, and you were pissing in a tree while he wrote you a ticket and now you have to face him in court and pretend to deny at least one of your charges so you don't get kicked out of college. It's like that. And I'm going insane.
War on ice.
These two teams don't like each other. These two fan bases are not friendly.
War on ice.
Someone is going to die tonight. It could be me. It could be Crosby. It could be Scott Hartnell.
War on ice.
I can't even think straight right now. I'm waiting to pounce or attack or kill or dropkick something in the mouth.
War on ice.
I need to go do something before I explode. I've been waiting all year for the magic that is the Stanley Cup playoffs and it's finally here. I'm like a kid who wakes up at 5 am Christmas morning. You can't just GO BACK TO SLEEP! Only this is like imaginary Christmas. It's Christmas where you open presents and they're bazooka's and hunting knives and skateboards and badass electric guitars (ones you don't even have to learn to play!) and slow-moving dim-witted zombies are coming from everywhere!
You don't feel bad when you shoot a zombie!
This is war on ice god damnit! And I typed "Flyers Penguins" into google and this showed up.
While I'm not confident that we're necessarily going to win this game -- or this series -- I do know this is a good sign.
Is that camel toe I spy?
This is a great sign!
Excuse me, but I've gotta get out of here. 40 Red Bulls, 3 lines of cocaine, 72 Jolt Cola's and one 5-hour energy (Lime flavor) and I'll be ready to go.
Ready for WAR ON ICE!!!
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