Steffi

MY HOCKEY CONNECTIONS: AM I A PUCKBUNNY?

The puckbunny. Otherwise known as the “hockey groupie.” Although groupies have always existed in pro-sports, the recent popularity of hockey has prompted the puckbunny’s ascent to fame and fortune. To her, an expensive ticket to a hockey game is warranted, not because she wants to applaud her home team during the stretch drive, but because she wants to see those “hunky hockey players” stretch during warm-ups. “You could serve tea on that butt…” she squeals gleefully, as the sound of her screeching vinyl dominatrix suit rubbing against itself drowns out her voice. Once the game starts, she taps her stiletto heals against the floor in exhilaration; the lacy, black bra that squeezes, pushes and lifts her chest can hardly restrain it anymore; in 3 short hours, she will be playing horizontal air hockey with one (or maybe more…) of those “fine studs on the ice!” Until then, she consumes those monotonous hours by searching for her prospective bed-mate. “Too short. Too tall. No teeth. A mullet. Ugh…home team or visiting team…” she ponders to herself. Her blessed soul, the game is complete when she finally decides on the fortunate fellow! If not, she would have had to bear witness to those gorgeous men attempting to obliterate each other! She lingers outside the visitor’s locker-room after the game. When the object of her affection finally emerges, she wraps her arms around him and plants a wet kiss on his cheek. She purrs a proposition in his ear, to which the player (single or married, you decide…) agrees. She is victorious once again.

To the undiscerning eye, I may appear to be a puckbunny. What female fan, if not a puckbunny, would force NHLers to prance around in thongs as they compete to be the “Hockey Guy Beauty Queen?” Yet, the perceptive eye knows my intentions. I have no illusions about hockey players; to me, they are not God’s gift. I do maintain a humour (at least my definition of humour…) site; I pretend to be a puckbunny, I objectify men, but all for tongue in cheek, satirical laughs. In real life, I am simply a female hockey fan, who has an appreciation for the game. The gorgeous players are but the NHL’s gratuity to me, for having to endure “the Trap,” the lack of scoring in the league, and all those times when the game becomes mind-numbingly boring.

While I am not a puckbunny (never have come close, and never will come close, to having sexual relations with a player…), I realize that my mere reference to the word is guaranteed to spark some interest in the phenomenon that is “puckbunnyism.” Therefore, for all the inquisitive souls (or naughty, whatever your choice is…), I will refer you to the following forum. Evidently, the views on the forum do not necessarily reflect those of Steffi8888. As well, I cannot even attempt to verify the accuracy of any of the information. Nevertheless, from my reading experiences, I suggest you take anything you read on the board with a grain of salt. Hockey Hotties @ www.voy.com/16537/ .

If I am not a puckbunny, what hockey connections do I have?

1. Jay Bouwmeester was my elementary school class-mate (in Edmonton, Alberta). If I remember correctly, we were in the same class from grades 4-6. Naturally, you want to hear something scandalous about him! No, we did not share some sort of illicit romance. No, I was never madly in love with him. I was actually madly in love with his friend, whose shall remain unnamed to protect his identity. Anyhow, what can I remember about Jay? He was never the class intellect (that was me…haha…no really, it was…), but he was not obtuse either. He was one of the popular boys, and had the attention of the girls, but was also quieter and shier than his loud-mouthed friends (one friend in particular, I absolutely detested…). I never knew him too well, but from my interactions with him, he seemed to be genuine and sincere. However, to prove that I am not attempting to brown-nose (which will do me no good anyways, he probably doesn’t even remember me…), I will tell you a shocking story; I once scored a goal on him when our class was playing indoor hockey. Of course, he plays defence (had to research…couldn’t just write a paragraph about him without at least knowing what position he plays…); but let me have my moment of glory! Actually, every time I see him on television, I go through this withdrawal episode. I feel so inadequate compared to him! He is going to be earning an outrageously high (for his age…screw that, for any age…) paycheck, while I toil through university (as a female engineer…oh the horrors). While he skates with the NHL elite, I will be taking derivatives of strange and unusual functions (oh goody…). In defence of myself, however, I have kept in touch with one of our fellow class-mates, and he too is in denial! Every time I see this other class-mate, he and I both complain about our petty existences compared to Jay. Nevertheless, we are happy for him. At least somebody we know has the opportunity to do something great!
   
   
2. My father, an accountant, knows the head accountant for the Brick Warehouse. The head accountant's son used to play junior hockey with Mike Comrie, and I believe my father either met Mike or went to one of his games. Of course, I have never met him...And yes, this is a "friend knows a cousin who's brother's girlfriend" type of deal, but it is a "connection."
   
   
3. My friend is supposedly Eric Desjardin’s cousin. The truth in this, I cannot verify. However, my friend seemed to be telling the truth; he is not even a hockey fan, and he did not tell me right away that Desjardin was his cousin.
   
   
4. Another friend of mine is supposedly Wade Redden’s cousin. Again, the truth in this, I cannot verify; but in all honesty, they look nothing alike.
   
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Steffi