TPL maternal figure Kitty Joliet is back to continue what she started.  It seems real life…and actual dates with humans…got in the way of her commitment to TPL the past two weeks, but she returns with gusto and with an interesting plot twist today – a non-dismissal!  In the spirit of defending the free press, I didn’t’ edit a damn thing here.  In all it’s glory…here is Evaluation #4:

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Mom returns to the Ice, bruised, but not broken…. determined to find her Prince of Ice Piece. oh, I mean Peace.

Did you miss me?  I hope so.  I had to put myself on IR, having wrecked my already fragile ankle in a back yard hole tripping incident.  No, I was not 3 shots under.  Honest, your honor.  After days of Ice, Advil and Elevation, I returned to the playing field, but with REAL men.   I mean, REAL in the sense that I actually am doing some local date recruiting here in Dallas, and I had to “interview some candidates”.  Rob and his brothers call me the dating queen of “one and done”.  It’s tournament lingo for you get one date and you get cut if you can’t bring your “A” game.  Seems like a harsh strategy, but let’s be honest, I celebrated a milestone birthday last Sunday, and this face ain’t gettin’ any fresher, ya know?  So I have to be efficient about my romantic recruiting ways.

But today, I am returning to TPL to finish what I started last month.  That is… the job, no the promise, I think I mean the honor… of reviewing the Hot Wings that Rob down selected as date candidates for me.  I’m going to warn you…. I’m cranky.  I’m damn cranky today.  Why?  Because, last night, I spent a shower, a shave, and a full hour of hair and makeup prep, plus the cost of a freshly laundered blouse, on a first date that turned out to be the MOST BORING HUMAN WITH A ZIPPER, IN FIFTY STATES!  I’m not exaggerating here.  A COMPLETE waste of prep time, which by the way took longer than the date itself, which was only 48.5 Minutes.  Yes. I clocked it.  I could have shortened the event down to 0.5 Min, thus recovering 48 minutes of my precious evening, because I determined in that very first 30 seconds, that this guy was among the “one and done” date circuit casualties in my zip code.  But I learned something last night.  A.  don’t break out a dry clean only outfit until the candidate has at least made it to date #2.  and B. Never, never date CPAs who say they are really, really happy to be an internal auditor with the FEDS.  Really?  And he turned out to be a stiff, homely, intellectual, superior bore?  Shocking!.. I’m an idiot.

Good news.  This morning, I had a whole new appreciation for Hockey Professionals.  I vowed to rethink my policy of cradle raiding, and I really don’t care anymore if the man I fall in love with has all of this original teeth.  I will buy him some new teeth.  What I want is A MAN.  Not someone to balance my checkbook to the last decimal then tell me he has to get to bed early, cause he is meeting with Ben Bernanke in the morning.  Guys that work for the FED look and talk and smell like the pistachio painted walls in a 1960s public mens room.  Stale, sour and nauseating.  Moving on….

So, when last we met… I was down to this triangle of opportunity.  Flip, Nick and Rafi.  I could just make this simple, and with my renewed motivation, fueled by last night’s train wreck of a date, take ALL THREE OF THESE STUDS… and I think there is a name in “the business” for what happens with a threesome….. but I don’t want these kids busting heads, fighting over who gets the top bunk  at our outing, so I am going to continue the due diligence of studying each to decide who really will be crowned the Prince of Ice Piece.

Today, I want to talk about Rafalski.  I want to do more than talk.  I think I am developing a serious long distance crush on this guy. The more I know, the more I love.  Why?  Two words: Slow and Steady.  If Brian’s approach to foreplay is paced anything like his career, this is my man.  Lots and lots of onramp. A slow, patient building of skill and awareness and then YIKES!  sustained performance in the big time!  Oh, I almost need a cigarette and it’s the middle of the day.

Rafi is just shy of 40.. OK, close enough.  He’s tall enough and he outweighs me.  Both key stats.  He’s a Michigan child who grew up rooting for the team whose Jersey he now wears.  Rob and Johnny both cut their teeth in a bungalow on Wilson Street in Dearborn…. How adorable is that!!  So much Nostalgia in play here.  He played Hockey at… WISCONSIN (there it is again!!)  but it’s a Big TEN school, remember.  Since the NHL didn’t pick him up, he moved overseas and paid his dues playing in Sweden and Finland. Talk about skill development.  You know what kind of skills they develop in Finland.  Just look at Flip, for God’s sake.  (and we will be looking at Flip  in detail, tomorrow…)  Detroit Nice Boy meets Finland Fire and grows up on and off the ice.  It’s a slow cooker recipe for perfection.  Stir in some Vodka…. Ahhhh.  Finally, the man inked a $30 MILLION dollar, 5 year contract when he showed up in Detroit in 2007.  That, my friends, can pay for a lot of dry cleaning and hairspray, which are big ticket line items in my budget, as we discussed earlier.   I’m not saying Brian is my boy, but I do think he is a legitimate contender.  Slow, Steady, Handsome, Rich, Local, and a Defenseman.  Oh Rafi, come defend yourself against this!!  SCORE!

Love

Mom

Drew Miller: DENIED!

Is it odd that my mom’s post follows one where we anointed half the roster with porn names?  Not around here.  No further introduction needed for this series.  Day 3 of 6 from DFWspICEgirl…mom’s new nom de plume.

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There’s only one Miller in Detroit worth drooling over and that’s the legendary greasy cheeseburger from Miller’s Bar on Michigan Ave. in Dearborn.  Still the best burger in 50 states.  If you’ve been there, you know what I mean.  Beyond that, I am not attracted to any man, named Miller. This includes  #20, Left Winger, Drew Miller. Here’s why…….

..Skinny guys.

Rob. You know how I feel about skinny guys.  Insecure.  Very insecure.  Me.  Not them.  I’m insecure about skinny guys.  This is going to be a short review.  Maybe.  I used to be so offended when it seemed that men I dated, or shamefully, my own sons, discarded women based on some mystical height to weight ratio. What about personality?  Education?  The inner heart of the human?  I protested loudly.  But, today, I confess, I’m committing that same sin right here, right now, in front of all of you.

I’m… well… “curvy”.  I know, I know, you are all thinking  ”CURVY!.. that’s just a euphemism for FAT.”  False.  Curvy can actually BE, curvy, and in a very nice way.  I hope I achieve that.  I’m German, after all.  But in the final analysis, no girl wants to win an arm wrestling competition with her date.  It just does not instill confidence in that classic “Save me, Big guy”, fantasy way.

Don’t roll your eyes at me.  We ALL have that fantasy.

Women want to be rescued and Men want a maiden to save…. Admit it.  You’ve heard the song… “I need a Hero. I’m holding out for a Hero till the end of the night. He’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be fast and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight… ”   Well kids, that might be Webster’s published definition of a professional hockey player, but Mom’s hero is also over 6′ tall and at least 195 pounds.  We’re not even in the right zip code with this candidate.

Oh… and Drew is a Jersey Boy.  A Jersey Boy.  Does that ring any bells with you?  The TV show of the same name, is blocked from my Sony Bravia… and for good reason.  How could you suggest a Jersey Boy?  The image of the Jersey Boy just screams “bad hair, bad clothes, bad breath”.  It’s all wrong for me.

In defense of Mr. Miller’s pedigree, he is a legacy Spartan and you know how I feel about BIG TEN men.  Your own Daddy is a Spartan… so we do give extra credit points for that.  Apparently, Drew also has an older brother on contract with a competing franchise, who tends goal.   I can only hope that Big Brother/Vezina Trophy Winner Ryan brings more beef to the net than our Drew.  To both of them, I have this recommendation… Muscle Milk.  Lots of Muscle Milk.

In Summary…. I’m 5’8″, so I appreciate Drew’s  6’2″ stats.  But at 178 lbs.?  Really?  It’s never going to work. Batter Up….   Please.

Love, Mom

(DFWspICEgirl)

Patrick Eaves: DENIED!

Day three.  Dismissed Wing Suitor #2.  Mom is off and running with this project at a pace even I didn’t anticipate.  In-depth research, sleuthing in into suitor #2′s family history…probably a look at his credit report…maybe some rummaging through the dumpster behind his house. This is the woman who…hypothetically speaking…if you were to get stuck in a Siberian prison…wouldn’t just write letters or bake a file into a cake, she’d commandeer an entire midget commando brigade to sneak through the plumbing system and set you free.

We’re thorough in this family.

Onto today’s postings, courtesy of Mama Disch…

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Thanksgiving with “The Fam”.  That’s the big attraction to this Blue Eyed Prep School Prince.  Patrick is the poster child for the widely accepted theory that you just can’t fight good genetics.  (And Rob, you know this is true.)  Honestly, I’m not attracted to Patrick, but have you seen his DADDY?

I promised to do a proper background check on these men, and it did not take me long to find the silver lining in this proposal.  It’s NOT Patrick.  Patrick himself, presents all of the same negative issues which I reviewed in yesterday’s critique of fellow forward, Dan Cleary.  (I guess all y’all call him Loins?)  Eaves is too young, he is, as I said, a FORWARD, and he dropped out of BOSTON COLLEGE to go skating every day.  That’s the equivalent of the Hat Trick of Bad Boyfriend Basics.

This gets worse.

Patrick, I have two words for you:  STABILITY AND COMPENSATION.  Since 2005 you’ve played for THREE teams.  Yeah you’ve got that playoff experience under your belt,  but you lost, no?  Yes,  there’s the proud moment when your team won the 2004 World Junior Ice Hockey Championship, but let’s be honest, who was the coach?  DADDY!  Once again, Daddy’s the prize bull in this stable.  If you turn over your wives like you’ve turned over your employers, you’re not long for the star track people peg you for.  God knows you’ve got the face for the cover of Sports Illustrated.  Your hair, and now that others have mentioned it, your eyebrows, make you a dreamy cover story.  But beauty is skin deep, Patrick.  Your Checkbook is the measure of the man now that you are approaching 30.  Even in my retirement, I out earn you, and I don’t want to be handing out $20. bills for lunch money to the boy I date like some ATM machine.  Trust me, this is a very bad power base in the MAN-WOMAN intimacy formula.  Been there and I’ve got references.

Oh, and I’m offended by the flagrant use of Calgary, Alberta, as Patrick’s Birthplace, because under the hood, this kid’s just a Canadian wannabe.  Patrick you are SO BUSTED!!  He was Born in Calgary, true, but the ink was hardly dry on his birth certificate when he was hauled over the border to WISCONSIN, where Daddy took a coaching job.  No wonder this guy has a fake accent and puts cheese on everything.  Even though the press touts his boarding school education in MINNESOTA, Patrick’s really from WISCONSIN!  It’s just sexier when you pull Hockey Heritage Rank, like a Canadian or a Norwegian, in this industry. Saying you’re from Wisconsin is not sexy… unless you’re Brett Favre.. and then you’re only talking about Mississippi via Green Bay, and…. well that really takes us off point, doesn’t it.  Even today, when Patrick goes home for the Holidays, he goes to Madison, where handsome DADDY coaches the UW team.

Did I mention I am a BIG TEN girl?

No doubt I hit pay dirt when I landed upon an excellent review of Patrick’s family tree.  Tree?  No, this is a FOREST of good fortune, by my standards.   Daddy is the real Canadian here, if you ask me, having reversed Patrick’s Passport stamp succession moving to Windsor, Ontario (is that really Canada? just checking)  after being born in Denver.   Then he had the wisdom to return to not just any school, but a BIG TEN UNIVERSITY.  This gets better when you learn that Grandpa Eaves is Cecil, the former Denver U hockey and football player who later was a professor and hockey coach at… that’s right… OHIO STATE!  This is a BIG 10 family reunion of great proportion.  Since I am proficient at all of the Big 10 fight songs, I envision Thanksgiving dinner with all of these handsome, not ever going to go bald, blue eyed studs, laughing and humming collegiate melodies, while stoking the roaring fire and toasting to their successful playoff seasons with Canadian beers and expensive Imported Whiskey.  SWEET!

So Patrick, I’m not gonna be your Sugar Mamma anytime soon, and I’m too good a woman to attempt to unseat the reigning Mrs. Michael Eaves, so I suppose Thanksgiving Dinner with your family is not going to happen for me.  But just in case, I’ll send along my phone number and maybe someday, you can invite me home for Dessert with your Daddy.  Think about it.