Archive for the 'Nonsense' Category


This photo from the today’s Buffalo News made me laugh.  I’m not sure if these guys are celebrating a goal or what, but they do NOT look celebratory.  They look very…concerned for Yo-Yo.

Yo-Yo: You guys. Check out this thing growing on my neck.
Gerbe: Dude, Yo-Yo.  You should get that checked out by a doctor.
Myers: Seriously.  Gerbs is right.  Maybe that thing is the reason you suck at hockey.
Sekera: That thing can explain why Yo-Yo sucks, but why do YOU suck, Mylers?
Gerbe: Oh snap.

Hockey Player Money Is Different Than Viola Player Money

I was fiddling around with my personal budget today, and for one reason or another, I got to thinking about NHL salaries.

Take Thomas Vanek, for example.

Vanek makes $7,142,857 per year.

I have NO idea what sort of taxes you have to pay when you make that kind of money, and I’m waaaay too lazy to try to figure it out, so for simplicity’s sake let’s just say that with taxes, agent fees, union fees, and of course the dreaded escrow, Thomas Vanek only sees about 50% of his annual salary in the form of cash. I actually suspect that it’s much less than that, but I like “50%” because it means I just have to press “÷ 2” on my calculator to figure out his (totally made-up at this point) take-home pay.

So, at the most, Vanek is taking home a measly $3,571,428.50 in cash a year.   I know!  How does he survive?

When I started thinking about writing this post, I DMed Mike Harrington on twitter, and he was nice enough to answer a few questions.  According to Mike, hockey players only get paid during the regular season (meaning no paychecks during the preseason, which I think is a little odd), and they get paid every two weeks.   Don’t even try to pretend that information isn’t strangely interesting.

A hockey season is between 25-28 weeks long.  Let’s call it 28 weeks, because it’s a nice round number.  We’ll pretend this is an Olympic year, and therefore a longer season.

So, you take $3,571,428.50 and divide it by 28 weeks, and then you multiply that by 2 to figure out what Thomas Vanek’s paycheck looks like.


According to my (super scientific and not-at-all based on complete guesses) calculations, Thomas Vanek gets a paycheck for $255,102.07 every two weeks during the hockey season.

Now, I didn’t do all this math (math is hard!) so that we can marvel at how rich Thomas Vanek is, and I definitely didn’t bring it up to cast negative light on Vanek’s salary.  He’s a highly skilled and incredibly rare athlete.  All the power to him, I say.

But, the idea of getting a paycheck for a quarter of a million dollars is downright hilarious to me.  I actually did the math on this, like, five times, because the number seems so preposterous when I think about it in the form of a paycheck.

The number brings up all sorts of amusing questions.

Do you think he has direct deposit?  I have direct deposit at work, but my boss still walks around on payday handing everyone their fake checks.  Does Larry Quinn come through the locker room every other Friday and hand everyone a ridiculously huge check?   Is Thomas Vanek’s locker at HSBC filled with pay stubs for a quarter of a million dollars that all have, “this is not a real check” written on them?  Is it possible that Vanek DOESN’T have direct deposit?   Can you imagine Thomas Vanek standing in line at the bank, waiting to deposit his $250,000 after work on Friday? Do you think they get excited about payday the way we do?  Is Vanek ever all, “Oooh, I’m going to buy that new diamond-encrusted Escalade….but not until payday,” or is payday just totally meaningless?

Is it possible that some of the younger guys are so bad with their money that they ever run out?  That seems unlikely.  I think the more likely scenario is that guys like Tyler Myers wind up with, like, $500,000 in their checking account by the end of the season.  Then they go home to bumblefuck-wherever in the summer and talk to their family accountant and he’s all, “Dude.  You can’t keep all of your money in your checking account.  You have to invest this shit.”  And then Tyler Myers is all, “Okay.  Whatever you say Uncle Milt.  Do I have enough money to buy this diamond-encrusted iphone case?”  And Uncle Milt is all, “Yeah.  Totally.”


These are the kind of things I think about.   I don’t know why.

Stinky Sabres

I had three revelations during that Sabres/Habs game.

1.  I almost never putter around the house during Sabres games anymore.  I used to do this all the time.  I’d multitask.  One eye on the game, and one eye on some other mindless chore.  A few minutes into the first period tonight I realized, “This is bullhonky and it’s making me cranky.  I need an additional activity.”  So, I spent the next period and a half painting the trim on my new window in the dining room while the game rambled on in the living room.  It was lovely.  I really enjoy twitter during the games, but sometimes I need to just experience a game quietly, and on my own terms.   As soon as I started painting I began to enjoy the game more.  Painting is therapeutic during the stinky Sabres games.  I might just paint the living room over and over and over again until the Sabres win the Stanley Cup.  That’s my new plan.

2. Scott Gomez has a bitchface.  He has a BIGtime bitchface.

3. I intend to refer to the Sabres as the “stinky Sabres” for the remainder of the season.  I think it’s cute and it makes me like them more.  Good work, stinky Sabres!


Well, I think we can all agree that last night’s game against the Blue Jackets was awesome and that the Sabres are never going to lose again.  (Full disclosure: I’m rushing to get this post finished within the next few minutes so that it can be published before the eternally lame Senators swoop in to challenge the “The Sabres are never going to lose again” theory.  If the Sabres do win tonight, they really AREN’T ever going to lose again.)

I attended the game with the always-hilarious Jessica and it was one of the best times evvvver.

There are roughly ten million things to discuss when the Sabres are the triumphant kickers in a thorough ass-kicking such as the one we all enjoyed last night, but time is short, so I’ll cut right to the chase.

“I’m all done kicking your ass now.  It was super easy.  Who’s next?”

First of all, let’s just all admit it.  Even the most ardent Kaleta fans had no idea Pat could do that.  That was….terrifying.  And amazing.  And hot.  And revolting.  That was me alternating between blood thirsty howls of approval and cringing in my arena chair thinking, “Holy Mary, Mother of Lindy Ruff.  Kaleta is trying to kill that guy.  Kill him, as in dead.”

And THEN, after the incredible flurry of punching was over, Patrick Kaleta leapt to his feet and did the douchiest thing I have ever seen. He theatrically washed his hands for our benefit, using the universal sign for, “Let me hear your roars of approval, Sabres fans.  I am a douche, but I am your douche, and I am mighty.”

And roar we did, for our beloved Douche King.

I was so taken aback and taken with the gesture that I’ve been making it all day.  Pretty much all day long I’ve been doing the, “Kaleta hand wash” gesture to mark my meager accomplishments.

This morning when I put my dirty coffee cup in the sink?

“All done with my coffee, bitches.  I’ll load the dishwasher when I’m damn good and ready.”

During the dress rehearsal this morning after we finished running the Brahms?

“Brahms, you’re the best, but you’re really no match for me.  I will play all your notes and then I will punch you in the face a few extra times for good measure.  Don’t act like you don’t like it, Brahms.”

At Home Depot, picking out a gigantic flower-pot to go with my new gigantic plant?

“Flower pot, I’m going to buy you, and then I’m going to take you home, and I’m going to fill you with dirt and a giant plant and I’m going to put you in the corner.  I’ll put you in the corner WHERE YOU BELONG, BEEYAAAAACH!

After mailing my Netflix back?

“That’s RIGHT, West Wing Season 3 Disc 3, I watched your ass, and now I’m sending you back to the Netflix headquarters.  FEEL MY POWER!”


I should warn you in advance.  I intend to get a lot of mileage out of this one.

“I wrote a blog post, mofos!  KNEEL BEFORE ME AND REJOICE.”


State of the Onion

I was originally going to write a post about the Sabres, inspired by the Bills, titled “State of the Union”.

The post was probably going to be totally lame because the plan was to talk about how my relationship with the Sabres feels different this season and blah blah blah whine whine blah blah blah shut up Katebits blah blah.  It was all planned out.

But then, I sat down to write this emo post, and when I was writing the title, I accidentally wrote “State of the Onion” instead of “State of the Union,” which made me giggle.  Then, figuring that the Blogging Gods had intervened in order to prevent me from writing a lame emo post, I realized that maybe I have the strength to forge ahead as a Buffalo sports fan after all.

So, I guess that’s the state of the union.  I’m listing towards mopey-ness, but I’m easily distracted by other, happier things.  Like funny typos about onions.

(When is Festivus, by the way?  I think we might all benefit from some organized, “airing of the grievances”.)

Punch-Gate Begets Feces-Gates, And Then We All Just Laugh And Laugh And Laugh.

In case you somehow missed it, Tim Connolly got a mysterious black eye at the Catwalk for Charity. Although he later amended the story, at one point, Matt Barnaby of ESPN claimed Roy-Z punched Timmehin the face. In the day 24 hours after the Catwalk, twitter was abuzz with goofy chatter about Roy-Z and Timmy’s big slap fight. (Roy-Z and Lindy both say it never happened, and not a single person has come forward to definitively say, “I saw Roy-Z pop Tim Connolly in the eye, and I liked it,” so I’m inclined to believe that the whole thing is [hilarious] hogwash.)

Regardless of the what, something happened to Timmy’s eye, so the local media was rightly intrigued, and the next thing you knew, Lindy Ruff and Roy-Z were being asked about it after practice. Connolly is conveniently nursing a groin injury from the comfort of his home, far away from the prying eyes of the Buffalo News.

THEN, John Vogl got compleeeeeetely asinine and wrote this little gem about how it’s ALL TWITTER’S FAULT!  FECES! GET OFF MY LAWN!

I actually think this post is so poorly argued and utterly ill-informed that I’m not even compelled to respond except to say that if Vogl wants to get his newsie-britches all twisted up into a bunch over misinformation on Twitter, he should take it up with former Sabre and current ESPN employee, Matt Barnaby.

Lost in all of the ruckus were a few bits of juicy information:

1. The story that Lindy Ruff is apparently going with (and sticking to!) is that Tim Connolly fell and hit his head while rehearsing a routine that was to be performed during the catwalk. I find this 100% believable (except by “practicing a routine” I think Lindy meant Timmy was, “flailing about like a drunk baboon”), and at LEAST 70% sympathetic.  Who among us hasn’t sustained a minor injury here or there after a few beverages?  It happens, you know?  Unfortunately for Timmy, he’s a handsomely paid professional athlete, so theoretically he and Roy-Z probably should have understood that reenacting the tricky “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” lift from the end of “Dirty Dancing” while drunk backstage at the Catwalk for Charity is inherently risky.  But can you blame them for wanting to put on a good show?  NO!  You can’t!

2. When I first read the Vogl post I found it so irksome that I wanted to leave a comment on Sabres Edge.  I understood that they’ve recently implemented a commenter verification system which makes leaving anonymous comments impossible, but I was willing to jump through their hoops.  I tried to activate my account.  After I gave them my full name, my address, AND my phone number, I waited for an email confirmation that was like, “If you are who you say you are, press this link,” or possibly a text that was all, “If you’re really Katebits, text “Yes, I’m Katebits” to this number.”

Here’s what I got.

Read it and weep.

Yeah, you read that right.  The Buffalo News is sending me a piece of MAIL, that will be delivered to my MAILBOX (not the inbox in my computer, but the actually physical mailbox I have attached to my house), delivered via the US Postal service using an actual STAMP, so that I can begin “commenting right away”.  This is BEYOND redonk.

Now look, I applaud TBN’s for their efforts to eliminate the racist comments left on their articles.  I think it’s healthy to insist that people attach their actual name to what they write on the interwebs, but seriously, this system is absurd.  There has GOT to be a better, faster way to verify that people actually are who they say they are than sending them a piece of mail MADE OUT OF PAPER.

No wonder John Vogl is so confused and angry about Twitter.  If the TBN commenting policy is any indication of how things go over there, Vogl is working in an office that utilizes the technology we’re used to seeing on “MadMen”.

3. There ARE good, social media-savvy people working at the Buffalo News.  @BNHarrington is one of them.  There are many others, but truthfully, I took a Tylenol PM before I started writing this post, and as a result I’m too tired to be linking all over tarnation right now.

4. Ryan Miller has a sad groin.  :(


My worldview is being ROCKED TO THE CORE.

Everything about this video is fascinating to me.   Is Ryan Miller being….funny?

Ordinarily when I laugh at Crunchy it’s because he’s doing something unintentionally hilarious by being the most serious person imaginable.  This here?  This is something new.

I’ve never seen Caddyshack (I know, I know, it’s a classic blah blah blah. I’ve also never seen Slap Shot.  YES, YOU HEARD ME RIGHT), so I only have a vague understanding of the character Crunchy is playing here, but still.  I’m amused that a. Ryan Miller’s love of Caddyshack is apparently very genuine, and b. he’s wearing a funny hat and and lugging around a big hose, and c. HE’S OBVIOUSLY LOVING THIS GIG.

I really truly don’t know what to make of this.

Honestly, it’s almost impossible for me to believe that Crunchy is capable of this type of lighthearted tomfoolery.  Maybe the video is CGI?  It has to be CGI, right?  RIGHT?!

You know, now that I think about it, I bet this project has been meticulously planned for years.  At some point, years ago, ESPN magazine contacted Ryan Miller’s agent and told him that they’d like to reenact some scenes from Caddyshack. Ryan agreed to do it, but only on the condition that he be given the proper chance to prepare.  He then hired an acting coach, and spent years researching the role and rehearsing his “improvised” lines.  Crunchy has spent countless hours trying to capture the essence of this character, driving everyone around him insane with the constant and relentless pursuit of Caddyshack-recitation perfection.  Finally, when the conditions were right (when Ryan was feeling well rested, well hydrated, and during a period of time when he and his team of performance psychologists felt his self-esteem was at it’s highest), he was willing to perform his impressions in front of an ESPN camera crew.

Crunchy just wants to be the best impressionist he can be.  With hard work, plus a schedule of short AND longterm goals, Ryan Miller believes he’s got what it takes to do a good Carl Spackler.

Okay, phew.  Worldview restored.

…A Blog About the Buffalo Sabres

Observations 2
I can be reached at: willfulcaboose [at] gmail [dot] com

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