Jen Adams: in her own words.

Hi folks, Ritch here, giving the aforementioned Jen Adams
an opportunity to tell you what she's all about as we, (along with 14 other people in America) are busy taking in the NHL All Star Game.

Jen was chosen for this gig based on several important factors, mainly:

-Her interest in the game of hockey

-Her lack of experience with the game of hockey

-Her proven ability to write funny

-Her very common first and last name, which we figure will drive traffic to the site from the thousands of lonely drunks around the world who once had a crush on a girl named Jen Adams and decided to "just Google her name and see if I could find her." Oh, and if that's you, well- this is probaby a different Jen Adams. But just to honor that lost, unrequited love you had for that Jen Adams, howabout you read what this one has to say about the game of hockey?

I mean screw it, you obviously aren't that busy.

Give her a hearty welcome, will ya?

Here she is:




Hey all, I'm Jen-

Midtwenties, literate, and on the cusp of hockey fandom.

As if it's not hard enough to become a hockey fan within US borders, I have the added challenge of a full set of lady bits. Despite having never played the game and only even seen one professional hockey game in my life , I do hail from extremely northern New York (near the Canadian border), which imbues me with an innate knowledge of cold weather sport, survival tactics, and an abiding love for crappy beers.

I think I've got the basics of the game down- get the little black disc in the net more often than the other guys, throw a punch, repeat- but over the course of the rest of the season, I have several goals:

-learn enough to be able to use the term "five hole" without snickering

-convincingly utter the phrase "Bobby Orr is the greatest hockey playah of all TIME" at the appropriate juncture/bar.

After much forethought and some shameless anti-Rangers grovelling on Ben's part, I've chosen the Buffalo Sabres as my team. After a lifetime spent getting my heart broken by the Bills, I grew more than familiar with the tough love batterings that upstate sports offer and the accompanying "fell-into-a-doorknob" rationalizations that fans must ready themselves with, so imagine my surprise when Ritch informed me that the Sabres were not only not a shitty team, but possibly even a good one.

Though I have yet to see any proof of this non-suckitude, I look forward to chronicling the highs, lows, and confusions that come with the birthing of an American Hockey Fan.

See you Monday,

Jen