So we finally did it. The Pens have won the Stanley Cup for the 3rd time in franchise history. I know this post is rather late, but it is appropriate still. After a few tears were shed, hugs were given, and my arms got heavy from pretending to hold the cup in the air, I realized that the Pens really did do it. The Penguins and the city of Pittsburgh were rewarded for all those hard times, the years where barely 10,000 fans made it to a game, let alone stayed for its entirety, the years where we hoped for the Pens to remain in Pittsburgh, and the years where Lord Stanley seemed to never make it a step closer back to its home, our arms.

Personally, I have been waiting for this moment since I've been born. I know they won the cup in 91-92 but to really feel the presence of the such a championship, this was the first time. Winning the cup was everything I had ever hoped it would be and more. The parade was unreal and to see that these men, who aren't just superstars, but every day people also, could bring such joy to the city of Pittsburgh and anyone who loves the Pens. Although there is a sense of satisfaction, there is a lot of off-season work to be done which is mainly what I will be voicing my opinion about for the remainder of the summer, along with the same old pet peeves and dumb things that make their way into my life.

"Mad" Max Talbot is truly now a Superstar. Go Pens.

The Pacific Blue Saga

   There was an incident the other day that not only reminded me of Mario Lopez and Pacific Blue, but also reminded me of how ridiculous nights in Pittsburgh can truly be. As with any ridiculous night, there were a group of guys drinking. In addition to this drinking, there was some heavy tailgating going on for the Stanley Cup Finals. That equation results in double the drinking. After running through our drinks like it was your sister, we decided it was time to head down to the big screen to watch the game. Like most rookies who break the seal, my cousin decides that he has to take a piss. Of course there isn't a port-a-john within 2 miles and not even Jesus would open up his castle across the street to let my poor cousin relieve his inch worm of its stress. So we decide that if he is going to piss in public, I will too, and even my younger brother joins. Not realizing how drunk I was, I decided to let it hang right in the open grass between the parking lots, where as my brother and cousin decided it would probably be a better idea to go next to a tree or behind a bush. As I finish off giving Mother Nature my lemon lime gatorade, I hear my friend say, "Hey, watch out, there are cops on bikes over there." Not really concerned, I say, "Fuck those cops they are on bikes." I'm not sure if this was out loud of in my head but it obviously gained us some publicity from them. Our drunk, ticketless selves start walking down to the game in our Pens jerseys ready for action. Low and behold, we see those very two Pacific Blue wanna-bees riding their bikes around the parking lot. As we walk towards our seats, pig numero uno takes the jelly donut from his mouth, and yells, "Hey Evgeni!" I look over at my cousin because he is wearing an "Evgeni" jersey. In that split second, about 10 things go through my mind. One of those being, don't run but don't be that moron to actually stop and talk to the cops." Apparently the same thing was going through my cousin's head as we kept walking. In unison, both cops shouted, "Hey Evgeni!" one more time. Unfortunately for my cousin, the alcohol had slowed his thought process, and before he knew it, he was riding solo and surrounded by potbelly one and two.

        After a few basic questions and a stellar fellatio performance by my cousin, he got let off from being cited for "Public Urination" and "Drinking in Public." After what seemed like eternity, "Evgeni" returned to my side and told me all about the story. One of the little miss piggy's who were going to cite him let him go after saying, "Don't pee on my city again." Well I have some insight for him. There is nowhere to pee but on your city, and its not even yours, its ours. The rest is a blur.

Go pens.

Unemployment: The Road to Poverty

Even though I've been meaning to write this post for the past few weeks, I have found it very ironic that I have no time seeing that the unemployment bug as infected more people than the "pandemic" known as swine flu. Speaking of swine flu, so much for it taking over the world. Anyways, I'd probably have a better chance of meeting a girl with a good personality than I would finding a job anywhere near my house. 

I am not really sure why I am unemployed. It is not like I didn't pick up any applications. In fact, I actually applied to 15.5 places. Yes, I applied to half a place because I did half the work which is picking up the application to actually fill out. After rejection and no phone calls, I decided to end my pursuit of a summer job and file for unemployment. Well to my knowledge unemployment checks should be collected by those who are unemployed. That person being me. Well apparently, someone can't collect an unemployment check unless they were actually employed in the first place. Now that is some bullshit.

Unemployment has changed my lifestyle for temporarily. The motto, "money is temporary" tends to be the most affected by unemployment. This motto has been engraved into my head and cannot be taken out, therefore my bank account is going down faster than your mom on prom night. Facebook has made its entrance back into my life and is slowly corrupting my everyday conversation. It sucks, but its what happens when your life consists of eating, drinking, lifting, and going to pens games. I've also been reading a good bit and studying to become a personal trainer but quite frankly I'd rather have a buffalo sit on my face for an hour, then read about "A personal trainer is there to motivate their clients and help them pursue their goals." You've got to be kidding me. I thought a personal trainer was there to talk shit and tell their out of shape clients how worthless they are. Alright, maybe those are just my thoughts.

Unemployment has also led me to blab on and on about the subject. As long as I don't resort to fornicating with fat women for money, I think I'll be able to live with no job and just doing what I want to do for the rest of the summer.

Stay jacked.