My Nuts are Killing Me

Paul Maurice: Unnnnnnnnnnhhhh. God that’s annoying. Feels like Pat Verbeek is tugging on my spermatic cord. Just go away, stop.

Did I leave my aftershave at the hotel? I can’t face the media without my Old Spice. My on-ice performance doesn’t matter as long as I smell like a coach. Reporters respond using their olfactory senses, not their frontal lobe.

Man, my nuts are fucking killing me. Should I call the trainer over? No, he’s too busy massaging Raycroft’s ego. It’s alright, I think I feel the pain subsiding. Oh, shit, no it’s not. What if I spread my legs a little wider? No, that doesn’t help. Maybe if I readjust a little bit. Feels like I’m in an off-testicle position.

*Reaches down pants*

They’re both to the left of my Joe Boxer crotch. Well, what if I just loosen the ol’ belt up a little bit and drop the drawers a centimeter or so. OK, there we go.

OH FUCK THAT HURTS!!! Mothershitfucksucktasticfatfuckingcuntlickingpussywhippedsonofabitch!!!!

Gill: You got it coach!

*Hal Gill and Bryan McCabe step on the ice*

Maurice: Wait! WAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIITTTTTT!!!!

Referee: Toronto penalty, 2 minutes for too many men on the ice.

Maurice: Aww, shucks.

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6 Comments

  1. Just put some borje salming on the affected area and it should go away in few days.

  2. Reporters respond using their olfactory senses, not their frontal lobe.
    Methinks this is totally true. Aww, shucks indeed

  3. I used to work 12 hour shifts – 6 days a week at the Olfactory before “the accident”.

  4. Referee: Toronto penalty, 2 minutes for too many men on the ice.

    Maurice: Aww, shucks.

    Don’t sweat it, Paul, the Devils never score on a powerplay.

  5. is it just me, or does Kyle Wellwood look…antsy in that picture?

  6. Have you formally discussed the Men’s Fitness curse yet? Kotaku didn’t cover that and so I’m not sure how much stock to put in it.


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