I'm sick, and I blame Chris Pronger. On the day of Game 5 between Anaheim and Ottawa, I woke up with a sore throat. It's like my immune system knew what was coming and decided to preemptively go on strike. By the time CFP hoisted the cup, my sinuses felt like they were the size of baseballs. Baseballs with nails sticking out of them. As I blew my nose for the thirty-six-thousandth time, I realized that there is no such thing as karma.
Suffice it to say that I don't feel much like evaluating the hotness of the UFAs who helped this fucking douchebag win the Stanley Cup. I'm blinded by loathing anyways, so my summaries would be along the lines of: "Teemu Selanne -- Rat-faced jerk loser DICKWEED!!!1!!1!"
Let's not, okay?
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