Originally I had planned on writing a scathing demonization of Chipper Jones for his ignorant comments on the social activities (or lack thereof) available in the city of Toronto. Surprisingly, The Toronto Star did an excellent job of responding to this slight by ripping Jones and exposing him as the stupid, redneck, country bumpkin, jackass hick he is.
Instead I will provide a recap of my first foray into the world of high fashion care of the LG Fashion Week which I attended last night. Now you’re probably wondering what business I have attending a fashion event? The answer is none. Do I have style? No. Do people comment on the way I dress? Not positively. Do I own more than two pairs of jeans or wear T-shirts not bought at 80stees.com? No. I consider it a good fashion day if my socks are the same colour and I’m wearing underwear without holes.
So, what was I doing at Fashion Week? It was work related. My company provides sponsorship help to the Fashion Week organizers and they, in turn, give our employees VIP access. I only went because there was an open bar. Free tip: If you want me to attend an event, have an open bar. I would have joined the Manson Family if they had an open bar.
Also, I was somewhat intrigued at the spectacle I knew Fashion Week would provide; I was expecting a scene straight out of Zoolander and I was not disappointed.
The characters at the show I was at were almost indescribable: feathered hair, gallons of makeup, exorbitant jewelry, dishcloths passed off as shirts; and that was just the guys.
My favourite was this dude with his head completely shaved except for tufts of hair up top. He was wearing sunglasses (obviously) but the piece de resistance was the following: a dark blazer with . . . .NO SHIRT UNDERNEATH!!! He was just wearing a blazer; it was awe-inspiring. He looked like a business casual member of the Chippendales.
I just felt bad for the female models. First, none of the ladies were remotely hot; girls that are 5’11” and 85lbs just don’t do it for me. I would feel uncomfortable sleeping with one; I’d be scared their bones would snap in half like Samuel L. Jackson in Unbreakable.
Also, they just looked pissed off the entire time. Probably because they were hungry; I wanted to get them all a pastrami on rye. I was toying with the idea of telling a couple of them they looked fat (you know, because I’m a dick).
Cosmo TV was there interviewing people for an upcoming segment; needless to say, they obviously recognized their second hottest bachelor and procured me for a quick interview. I have no idea what I said because I was three beers deep at that point (which means I was hammered).
I think the interview created some solid buzz among the other VIPs as I soon found myself chatting up a drop dead gorgeous client. We seemed to mesh very well and I put in a solid hour of superhuman flirting. She was smiling a lot and touched my arm so I thought I was golden.
Then she dropped the married bomb. FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ladies, please do a favour for your pal Tewks. If a guy who you’ve never met is talking to you for more than five consecutive minutes, he is interested in you sexually. If you’re in a relationship, drop that into the conversation very early. Otherwise, it feels like getting kicked in the groin.
And now I have blue balls.
Tewks is a frequent contributor to Gretzpo’s Sports Blog.
The topic of fighting in hockey has been discussed ad nauseum over the past couple weeks and I’ve decided to join the party fashionably late.
But Tewks, you ask, since when do you write about serious subjects? Sure, my normal journalistic fare revolves around which male celebrities I have crushes on and my feeble attempts to get laid by anything with two X chromosomes, but it’s time to tackle a topic with depth.
However, I will still base my argument on poorly developed thoughts with little regard for insignificant details like statistics, evidence, research and coherence.
Where do I stand on the issue? While fighting does have a place in the game, I am firmly entrenched in the camp that believes the number and types of fights should be decreased.
Full disclosure: I played some puck in my day to varying degrees of success. While I did get cut from the same team 8 years in a row, when I finally made that team I was a solid second line player who could be counted on to score 20 goals a year; 18 of which would be scored in the first month of the season (I always liked to establish my presence with authority and then coast until playoffs).
Also, I was never a fighter. With superior facial features like mine, it would have been a huge gamble to risk serious disfigurement to my chiseled visage. And let’s be honest, if you take away my looks, I really don’t have much going for me. Intelligence? Questionable. Personality? Meh. Wealth? Nope. Sexual Prowess? Dozens of unsatisfied women can’t be wrong.
So you can see why I was somewhat reticent to chuck knuckles.
I have no problem with fights that are catalyzed by passionate play on the ice. Hockey is a very physical game and the odd donnybrook can ratchet up the intensity in a sluggish regular season game in January and provide a jolt to the teams of both combatants.
I DO have a problem with staged fights between two 6’5 240lb Mouth breathers who possess no discernible skills other than being able to bash their knuckle-dragging fists into human skulls in exchange for 37 seconds of nightly ice time. These fights serve no purpose other than to glorify these talentless Neanderthals who, instead of playing in the NHL, should be working as bouncers at some dive bar in Bobcaygeon.
It’s this proliferation of one-dimensional “enforcers” that is the real problem with fighting. These guys are so big and strong, and spend all of their time working on their pugilistic skills rather than, you know, things like stickhandling and skating backwards.
So, not only are these guys basically training to be fighters, they are throwing heavyweight caliber punches with their bare hands. At this rate, the incidence of skull fractures and serious concussions will soon become a monthly occurrence.
Old school pundits like Don Cherry like to wax poetic about the olden days and how “no one ever gets hurt in fights.” Well Donny, 40 years ago guys like Gordie Howe and Bobby Orr would fight their own battles; punches thrown by 5’10” 170lb guys with no formal fight training are a little bit different than those thrown by today’s behemoths. 
And don’t get me started on the exultations of His Royal Donness either. When I was younger, it was easy to watch Cherry on Coach’s Corner with a look of bemusement; it was like listening to the harmless musings of a bigoted grandfather. It was entertaining and no one really took his xenophobic rants seriously.
I’m afraid Don is rapidly spiraling into senility as his weekly sermons are becoming increasingly unintelligible.
Here’s a sample transcript of one of his rants:
Don: “Let me tell you somethin’ right now ok? . . . All you kids out there . . . Are we gonna roll the thing? . . . This guy, great Canadian boy from Moose Jaw . . . Look at that, what a beauty!!
Ron: What do we--?
Don: Don’t interrupt me . . . Now you kids pay attention . . . I used to tell my guys the same thing . . . no hotdogging . . . It’s not the Canadian way!!!! . . . This guy here, he’s a Russian . . . What’s his name? Ho-varch-keen.
Ron: Ovechkin.
Don: That’s what I said . . . Ho-varch-keen . . . Anyways, this guy scores a goal here . . . waving his arms around . . . Did I mention he’s not Canadian? . . . Kids, DON’T DO THAT!!! . . . That’s enough about that . . .Ok let’s go
Ron: Next we have----
Don: Oh that’s right . . . watch this guy . . . .great guy . . . Bawango . . . Two Canadian boys going at it . . . No one got hurt, no one got hurt . . . Look at that . . . couple beauties right there . . . Last thing I want to say is Bobby Orr Bobby Orr Bobby Orr Bobby Orr Bobby Orr Kingston Kingston Kingston Kingston Kingston Doug Gilmour Doug Gilmour Doug Gilmour Doug Gilmour Doug Gilmour I coached the Bruins I coached the Bruins I coached the Bruins Kingston Bobby Orr.
In sum:
1. One-game suspensions for premeditated fights where the guys dance around for 30 seconds juking and jiving
2. Instigator penalty for any player who jumps an opponent for making a clean hit on his teammate
There you go. NHL general managers need months of discussion and special advisory committees to solve the fighting issue; your man Tewks did it in less than 1000 words.
Tewks is a frequent contributor to Gretzpo’s Sports Blog.
Instead I will provide a recap of my first foray into the world of high fashion care of the LG Fashion Week which I attended last night. Now you’re probably wondering what business I have attending a fashion event? The answer is none. Do I have style? No. Do people comment on the way I dress? Not positively. Do I own more than two pairs of jeans or wear T-shirts not bought at 80stees.com? No. I consider it a good fashion day if my socks are the same colour and I’m wearing underwear without holes.
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