Mike: Alright, honey. Let’s try this again. None of those nosey assholes are anywhere near the house.
Willa: Well, OK.
Mike: What’s the problem, Mrs. Understood?
Willa: I, I just don’t want you to come before me.
Mike: Baby, there’s no one to distract me. I just have to concentrate on one thing: making you happy.
Mike and Willa disrobe.
Willa: Mike, what’s that lump under the sheets?
Mike pulls back the sheets, revealing Glenn Anderson
Mike: What are you doing here!?
Glenn: That’s not important right now. However, before you start rubbin’ nubbins, I have a very important story to tell you.
Mike: Oh for the love of …
Glenn: Twenty-nine years ago, the Edmonton Oilers sent a surprise to my room at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel: a young female Albertan. She was my first fuck, a spunky nubile of eighteen. Scandinavian descent, probably Finnish. Dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes that were perhaps a little too distant from each other, but what did I know about free sex? I was a simple fourth round draft pick.
Willa: Mike, let’s just do this …
Glenn slips in between Mike and Willa
Glenn: This is important, woman! Listen!
As she undressed, I thought, “This is what it means to be an Edmonton Oiler”. They knew I wanted to spend one more year in a temperate climate. And yet, they send me this snow white prostitute, not a knockout in any sense: one A cup, one B cup; a hairy, symmetrical mole between her tits; scars from c-sections, etc. She was not a classic beauty.
Mike: I think I’m going to hurl …
Glenn: However, as soon as I was ready to dismiss her as just another Quebecois putain, I noticed her pubic hair. It was neither clean-shaven nor a full-blown crotch-afro. The crabs had inhibited the growth of the hair down there, but they were extremely lively that night, perhaps excited that I was going to be a member of the Oilers. I took this as a sign of great things to come for my new team and me. We weren’t the healthiest team in the league at that point, but our unbridled enthusiasm would lead our team to great heights …
Mike punches Glenn in the face and knocks him out. The bedroom door swings open.
Marty: HEY!!!
What’s up, tough guy? Think you can push our stars around?
Marty has knocked out Mike. He slings Glenn over his shoulder.
Come on, buddy. Time to pull the routine at the Brashear household. I’ll need to bring my stick this time …
Marty has left the room.
Willa: Goddamnit. SOMEONE MAKE ME COME!!!
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Melt Your Face-Off 
The Mike & Willa posts rival the Double J & Wade posts.
And I want to be Mike Modano.
losing the funny.
Hockeyfrank, you really bring a lot to the table.
“….and that was the second time I got crabs.”
wrap, I think him writing “losing the funny” might indicate he’s losing his religion, whatever that means.
@ Weed Against Speed: Maybe, like Doug Stanhope, he just needs to pour more funny down his throat.
I have to thicken my spine? NOOOOO!!! Where’s my gallon of cookie dough? *Sobs*
http://deadspin.com/5019137/someone-hates-you-online-try-not-to-be-offended
Rask, put down the spoon and step away from the Haagen-Dazs. It’s going to be alright.
I need to work the phrase “Rubbin’ nubbins” into my vocabulary now. Just golden!
@ Domi; Seriously, “rubbin’ nubbins” is magical.
Awww Rask! Don’t be sad. Clearly, the ones who really matter thought it was funny….
I agree though, I don’t pay attention to hatred over the Internet. What are they going to do, punch you via Live Blog?
…you can do that? Man, I always learn the cool stuff too late.
Yeah, you can bitch slap too.
Dani, correction. You can “betch slap.”
Wrap, how could I mess that up?! No booty calls…