Thanks to Mouthguard for this Holiday Edition of DWAO. We don't think we could live without a little MG in our lives.
SILVER FOX: WIN A DATE WITH AN OLDSTER
"I HAVE A DREAM (ABOUT PIZZA)": MARTIN BRODEUR KING JR. DAY EDITION
If you wish hard enough, do you believe your dreams will come true? Or will your dreams just become heart attacks? Eh?
Martin Pierre ("Marty") Brodeur
Officially: New Jersey Devils goalie extraordinaire, restauranteur, spa owner, author. Imminent Hockey Hall of Famer.
Unofficially: Self-indulgent, two-timing fatass.
IFOCE (International Federation of Competitive Eating) pizza pocket world record holder.
Officially: Stanley Cup champion. Olympic gold medalist. The face of the New Jersey Devils franchise.
Unofficially: Self-indulgent, two-timing fatass. Guest-starred on both "Family Feud" and "All In The Family" back in the day. He isn't nicknamed "Oncle Papa" for nothing...
WHY HE'S AMAZING
Martin Brodeur exists so that the rest of us can tell people who treat us like shit to fuck off. He is the definition of tenacity. The Brodeur family always believed in his talent and work ethic, but he has always had to contend with naysayers and dumbasses with their "lingering doubts" about his craft and dedication thereto. Plus Patrick Roy groupies - he bitchslapped those a-holes by breaking or tying pretty much every record Roy established. Brodeur's plucky self-confidence and unwavering commitment to hard work reshaped the future of the Devils and before he knew it, he was Off To See The Wizard. Don't ever accuse him of NOT doing it his way, if you know what's good for you.
WHY HE'S (STILL) SEXY AS HELL
He can't be sexy because he NEVER was sexy, but sometimes when the right light hits him at just the right angle... It's like he's got a Chris-Farley-Meets-Rerun donut boogie woogie goin' on. He deserves mucho props for playing as long as he has at the elite level we have come to expect from Martin Brodeur. He's having an off year right now, but when he decides it's "time", you can be sure he'll go out on top. Even if it means climbing on top of his teammates and crushing them with his donut top.
WHAT YOU WOULD DO ON A DATE
Martin motors up to your door in a vehicle that he calls the "Painchar" (Bread Car), but he says it's okay to call it the Piemobile 'cause it translates better.
He is wearing an oversized yet snug black t-shirt that does a pathetic job of hiding his bedaine - a/k/a his gut. Otherwise, he looks pretty swanky and is up for some serious fun.
Brodeur pulls the Piemobile into the parking lot of La Pizzeria Etc., a restaurant he just happens to own. He grabs your hand and waltzes you through the front door. Martin proceeds to order one of everything on the menu, but the chef de cuisine surprises both of you with a special creation for the occasion: The Burrito Unicorn.
Martin tears into the monstrosity as if he were a wooly mammoth waking up from millennia of frozen naptime. "If you can believe it," Martin begins, mouth full of refried beans, "there are some horrible people on the internet who are trying to destroy my restaurant! You would not believe the terrible lies they are saying about the food here. They write slanderous online reviews and hide behind stupid fake names! People are always picking on me. I don't get it." Martin holds up two such online reviews so you can see for yourself. "Here's what 'Burt French' has to say about La Pizzeria. He compares my food to cruise ship cuisine. What an asswipe, estie ciboir! 'Burt French', I am so sure. Nice try, Sean Avery!"
"And this one really kills me, because I KNOW who these guys really are!" Martin is sweating profusely, leaning across the table at you so that nobody can hear. He shows you the second review. "Look - these guys call themselves 'Noodles & Henrik' but of course they're really the Sedin twins. I mean, it's so obvious! Like I wouldn't be able to tell! They want us to think they're from Pittsburgh when really they're Swedish and everybody knows that Swedish food is a ridiculous joke. Who do they think they are?" Martin is livid, and there are two wet blobs below each of his armpits, now. "As if it's not bad enough that I'm seeing double when they're coming at me on the ice."
A waitress dabs the sweat off his face, and after a quick flossing Martin whisks you off to a comedy club where you are met by none other than the always hunky Henrik Lundqvist who is hosting a charity event there. Your appetite has suddenly returned:
Henrik bursts your bubble by telling you that tonight's event is "Celebrity Autobiography", which features celebutards reading/performing excerpts from celebutard autobiographies. And thanks but no, this is not a double date btw. Martin has been selected to read Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speech - not an autobiography, per se, but autobiographical nonetheless.
But once onstage, Martin decides to fuck some shit up. He puts on his reading glasses and opens a copy of "Brodeur: Beyond the Crease" - HIS OWN autobiography published in 2006. The crowd is in shock. It's as if Brodeur is reading Shakespeare. Or Oprah's diary:
"My routine also includes the pre-game meal, and my favorite is spaghetti with tomato sauce, sometimes with grilled chicken....
"Dressed in shorts, a T-shirt and flip-flops, I like to sit on the couch and hang out with my teammates, just shooting the breeze and talking about just about anything until the team meeting with the coaches 90 minutes before game time....
"After the warmup, I go into the dressing room, take my mask and gloves off, and drink three-quarters of a can of Sprite. That's my drink. Gatorade hurts my stomach, and water just doesn't give me enough of a lift. I'll drink three cans of Sprite a night; one before the game, and one during each of the intermissions.
Hecklers get to work, pelting Martin with beer nuts and yelling hurtful bullshit:
"Oncle Papa is a racist!" "Spriteface!" "Hockey players suck!"
Henrik is furious and you're freaking out, but Martin calmly reassures the attendees that he merely enjoys reading about himself more than reading about Martin Luther King. Simple as that. Martin also reminds everybody that he portrayed himself in a video cartoon called "Asphalt Avengers", which featured African-American characters learning to play ball hockey:
WHOA WHOA WHOA WTF WTF WTF?????
Bob's Your Oncle Papa oh wait, what? End of date? It's Martin LUTHER King? Not Martin BRODEUR King? So, I fucked this up, huh? Well, I dunno... I mean, ARE there black players in the NHL? Of course not. Just on the Thrashers, and surprise surprise that doesn't count because nobody cares about hockey in Atlanta.
I keed, I keed. About the no black players in the NHL part. But we can't laugh at how much diversity improvement still needs to happen from the midgets on up. Bring it ON, already. I'm sick of people telling me my favorite professional team sport is racist. Gimme something juicier to write about besides sweaty pits and burrito unicorns when this holiday comes around next year.
Ain't no dream. The King is coming. Right?