Today will be the Kings' third game seven this postseason. They had one last year and that was the first game seven they have had since 2002 when they played the Avalanche, from what I recall. It had been over decade since a game seven, and now three. In one freaking playoff run. This shit is not right. Sure, it's nice to believe you are going to win, but it's like they aren't even thinking about me. Do they even have a guess about how much alcohol I have consumed?
Let me tell you, it's been a lot. Like right now! I have drank five vodkas (straight) and am on beer three. That is impressive. Mainly because I am by myself and am fairly certain this is a sure indication of alcoholism, and yet I have pressed on. This is sacrifice. For what, I am not quite sure, but my liver is taking a real beating I can tell you that much.
As for the Kings....
They have given me all I could ask for. Embarrassing the Sharks. A humbling game seven in Anaheim for the Ducks. Making me supreme ruler of California (bow down before me, cretins). I should be thrilled. And I guess I am. Yet I have been trying to distance myself from them for the last week now. Like going through an inevitable breakup, the easy approach is just to try and forget them while the shit hits the fan. And now we have been blessed with a game seven in fucking Chiraq. After two golden opportunities to win and move to the finals for the second time in the past three seasons. How can someone be happy with that?
I mean, yeah I could be Jer or Stace and that would be terrible. Last memorial day I threw up all over myself and thought to myself, "Hey, I'm not a Ducks fan. Life could be worse." I didn't puke this Memorial day. Improvements. Or I could be a midget. That could be terrible. People talking to you like you're a baby, being cast as Tyrion Lannister, or countless other things that may occur from being hilariously short. Life is mean sometimes.
The point being, whether the Kings win or lose this game seven, this has been a hell of a ride. They were a shadow of the potential that they possess, true, yet still are a win away from the Stanley Cup finals. Sort of like Kayne where his last album sucked balls and yet he still made like a billion dollars and married a Kardashian. Or is that more of life being terrible? Either way, good job Los Angeles Kings.= You guys were pretty okay for the most part. I am pretty sure I had fun this year writing about you fucks. Except you, Alec. You broke my heart though. How could you miss that wrap around. I'm very hearth broken.
So as for game seven, good luck. I'll write a real post afterwards, regardless of what happens. But for right now, game seven means drinking.
Prediction: Let's say...Chicago?