First and very foremost today, HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY to my old balls brother, who a couple weeks ago wasn’t sure if he’d make it to today.  Well he did, bringing his total to 10,950 days of not dying in a row.  A pretty nice streak to put together.  Very consistent.  Love ya bro.

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I’ve been asked what I’d like my intro music to be for my weekly spot on XM’s fantasy hockey show.  Yes, I’m still giving advice on fantasy hockey despite being below .500 in my own league.  Hey, Butch Harmon can’t break 90, take a hike.  Any suggestions?  It’s gotta be something badass – after much cogitation, I’m thinking of using the ten-second-in point of “Hip Hop” by Dead Prez:

Wow, that sounds a little tinny on the computer.  I swear that baseline is cool in my car.

What about something from my favourite band, Jimmy Eat World?  A little Pain?

If you don’t like that song, you can stop reading here and go back to Rick Reilly.

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Frank (the Tank) from Alaska has fired me a few topics over the past couple weeks, and they seem like good ones to address.  I’ll start with a fun one today.

Unwanted attention from “puck bunnies” (simply to be known as “pucks” from here out.  That’s how they’re known in the locker room anyway.  It’s been minimized to ”she’s a puck” due to the ridiculous amount of words that follow “puck”).

I’m in the midst of writing a column on the not-so-elusive puck bunny.  Her natural habitat is in the arena, and her modus operandi involves being ever-so-slightly underdressed and ever-so-boldly overmakeuped.  Yes, overmakedup is a word, just ask any middle school teacher.  The player’s Moms hate them, though their Dads are less inclined to feel as negatively about their existence.

The best of the best can earn an unflattering team-nickname-related monikers.  In my day, the Vernon Vipers girls were known as ”Viper Pipers”.  Please note that I had a girlfriend for all those years, as I’m sure my Mom and un-puck-like fiance would encourage me to point out here. 

Moving on.

But Frank makes a good point.  What about the girls who seem to want to be pencilled into that category?  What’s goin on in their kitchens?  The ones who’re conviniently (and conspicuously) hanging around the right places – by the cars, the post-game meal restaurant, wherever – even though nobody wants anything to do with them (“them”, being the specific, uninvited type).  I want one of them to walk me through their thinking.

What’s worse is that it makes it look like we, as players, support the pseudo-stalking.  No, I didn’t invite her.  I don’t know why she’s here either.  Who knows her?  If we find out that someone invited this same girl that’s been hanging around for the last three months, its a fine.  And nobody ever gets fined.  Some how these girls just keep showing up at the right places, like the locker room is bugged.

Forgot to photocopy her ID next to the #, apparently.

 I assure you, that behaviour is not encouraged.  My family doesn’t want to see my name on a non-hockey-specific sign. When the attention is a completely unprompted anomaly, how do you explain it away?  Why does our reputation always seem to be on the hook when some girls out there are simply a skateblade short of the scene in Psycho?

As I may have mentioned in an article that drew some uh, feedback, the hockey culture is incredibly misogynistic.  And I occasionally make jokes about oh, I dunno, the WNBA and the like, so I’m aware I’m no saint.  Thus, at the risk of once again putting myself in the crosshairs, let me lay out the reasons women should be at men’s hockey games (editors keep correcting my use of “girls” to “women”. I wasn’t aware being termed a “girl” was derogatory, as has been recently discussed in a comments section. “Lets go boys” might be the most overused mid-game expression in our sport, and my feelings aren’t hurt.  But anyway.  Onto the reasons).

1. You like hockey.

Crazy concept, I know.  A lot of women love the game for the same reason a lot of men do: … it’s great.

2. Your husband/fiance is on the team.

Obviously.  You’re married (or to be married).  End of explanation.

3. Your boyfriend is on the team.

Ah, the puck bunny loophole.  “Boyfriend” means different things to different people.  Memorizing a guy’s bio, listening to his interviews and staring at his picture may make it feel like you’re together, but unless you know his family, save yourself the hour of pre-game prep (minimum?) and go play Farmville.  Whatever that is.

4. Your son is on the team.

That should be the number one reason to be there, actually.

5. ….um… anyone got a #5?

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The floor is yours people.  Keep the sexist slander to a minimum, if you don’t mind.