On the off-chance you're not spending your weekend either going outside, traveling, seeing a movie, a play, an opera, a comedian, a local sporting event, playing a game, playing a video game, killing hookers in GTAV, checking out an an art gallery, laughing quietly at the "art" in said gallery, trying out a new restaurant, a new bar, a new club, catching up on some sleep, reading a good book, reading a bad book, cooking a good meal, cooking a disgusting meal, sitting in the park aimlessly staring off into the netherworld as the netherworld stares back at you, teaching yourself a new language, getting furious that people speak a language other than the one you've already mastered, going for a hike, going for a swim, going for a drive, getting caught in a car with someone you don't want to be with on a depressingly long car ride, checking out a band, wondering why that band really needs a bassist who's only playing one chord, petting a dog, petting a cat, watching a dog pet a cat while a honey badger whimpers in plain view from lack of affection, doing that spring cleaning thing the moms rave about, leaving the spring cleaning for the fall because cleaning sucks and dust is barely noticable, going to a religious institution of your choosing, wondering if now would be a good time to select a religious institute of your choosing, being dragged to a dinner party, eating all the food at the dinner party, wondering why no one tries the lampshade on the head thing at dinner parties anymore, getting up early to watch Newcastle United lose their zillionth game in a row, going on a first date, begging for a second date, dreading a third date, learning an instrument, hating that instrument, doing a cleanse, realizing life is better if you never bother trying a cleanse again, or locking yourself inside and having carnal relations with the legal partner of your preference....well, then these are options too:
- 4:00 PM PT - Alain Vigneault's Limp Blue Clownhorns visit Sidney's Magic Carpet Emporium. There is so much over-hyped nonsense involving both these squads, and the idea that half the NHL main office is probably touching themselves during these games I feel like I need a shower, a blanket and a cup of soothing tea already. Let it go seven games and hope they destroy each other. Neither one is Cup bound anyway because evil has a limit.
- 6:30 PM PT - Zach and Nino Make a Porno visit Joel Quenneville's 101 course on crotch grabbing for people with low self esteem. I know it's fun to root for the Wild but people, c'mon, their roster is overflowing with assholes. What's that? Chicago's is as well? That's a good point voice in my head. So whoever wins is simply the bigger asshole. Awww, there's deductive reasoning I can get behind.
- 9:30 AM PT - Subban's Stick Flex visit the city that will never have a museum of tolerance. Fuck Boston, learn to burn your city down like an adult when things don't go your way. Which they won't. Want a free lighter?
- 5:00 PM PT - The "why are they holding that severed shark's head?" aristocrats visit Teemu's throbbing Selanne. OK, full marks to Los Angeles for dropping that heartache on Marleau's unibrow, but now it's back to the golf course with you. Every time Dustin Brown smiles an angel is curb stomped. You really want that on your conscience?
- 12:00 PM PT - Zach and Nino Make a Porno visit Joel Quenneville's 101 course on crotch grabbing for people with low self esteem. Did you know CM Punk is a Hawks fan? Do you even know who he is? He's a WWE wrestler. Or was or something, I dunno. Why doesn't Chicago play that up? Are you saying Vince Vaughn is better than a wrestler with a Pepsi logo tattoo? See this is why Chicago can't be trusted with nice things. YOU'RE BAD PEOPLE. (*sips Pepsi*)
- 4:30 PM PT - Alain Vigneault's Limp Blue Clownhorns visit Sidney's Magic Carpet Emporium. Every time someone on the TV or radio mentions that Vigneault is still employed when Vancouver had to fire his replacement over here, I want you to stand up, walk to an empty room, size up any part of an empty wall in sight and kindly put your fist through it. Whoever makes the prettiest smiley face of punch holes through the dry wall by the end of the game wins a prize (duh, obviously it's free cookies but what did we lace them with? Them's the real prize...don't plan on working Monday)
Seriously, someone go pet the honey badger.