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Tuesday, October 19th, 2004

Time:1:49 am.
Who's Doing What During the Lockout?

Player: Jason Arnott
Pos: F
Current Status: Not known

I resent that.

I'm doing nothing. And damn proud of it.

Other guys are running around staying in shape. Finding jobs in Sweden and Finland and other Lands and Ens.

I'm "changing" diapers. Taking cat naps. Nobody can understand how difficult it is to have to try to sleep while your wife keeps getting in and out of bed to take care of the baby. Good thing I'm unemployed. I can sleep on the couch all day and catch up on sleep.

Because my life has been so difficult, I haven't gotten around to updating this thing. I'm sure everyone broke up and made up while I was gone. Got engaged, broke up days before the wedding, adopted nine children from China, killed some cats, finally got that sex change, considered signing with Oklahoma. The usual stuff.

I noticed something funny though when I got back. Namely, jason_arnott. Who the FUCK is that?

So I emailed the imposter.

To: jasonarnott44@hotmail.com
From: jasonarnott2544@hotmail.com



-Jason Arnott

Fucktard replies back:

To: jasonarnott2544@hotmail.com
From: jasonarnott44@hotmail.com


Jason Arnott

So I'm thinking... Wait, no... *I'm* Jason Arnott. So I emailed him back.

To: jasonarnott44@hotmail.com
From: jasonarnott2544@hotmail.com

No, you're not. I am.

-Jason Arnott (THE REAL ONE)

I was pretty sure that would clear things up. After all, I AM Jason Arnott (THE REAL ONE) and I am strong and a center for the Dallas Stars. That intimidates people. And I drive really expensive cars. So I figured that I'd point out this guy's mistake (because he might have been retarded and just thought he was me and not have been purposely trying to STEAL MY IDENTITY--like what happened to JR a couple of years ago--so I wouldn't want to be mean to a retarded kid) and then he'd apologize and go away.

Only, he emails me back:

To: jasonarnott2544@hotmail.com
From: jasonarnott44@hotmail.com
Re: re:re:re:WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

Dear Jason Arnott (THE REAL ONE),

IF that even IS your real name!!! (After all, MY name is Jason Arnott. And I am pretty certain that I am Jason Arnott. Seeing as how I am very good looking and the center for the Dallas Stars and I score goals and look good doing it. I have a Viper. It's red and goes really fast. It cost me a lot of money, but it was worth it because the guy at the dealership through in the customized license plate (ARNOTT) for free.)

Please stop emailing me. *I* am Jason Arnott. Not you.

<3333333333 Jason Arnott

And then I thought.. hey, *maybe* this guy really is Jason Arnott. After all, he's good looking. He's the center for the Dallas Stars. He scores goals. He looks good doing it. He owns an expensive car. With a cool license plate.

But then I put down the booze, and the next morning emailed the asshole:

To: jasonarnott44@hotmail.com
From: jasonarnott2544@hotmail.com

Fine. Prove it, mother fucker.

Answer the following questions:

1) What year were you born?
2) What is your favorite color?
3) What is your brother's name?
4) Are you married?
5) What was the last thing you ate?


He replies with:

To: jasonarnott2544@hotmail.com
From: jasonarnott44@hotmail.com

1) The fuck? I'm not a mathematician.
2) Define "color."
4) Of course. But our marriage is not recognized under state law and our evil teammates are trying to keep us apart. They want to destroy our love.
5) Pie.

<444 Jason Arnott

Fucking thwarted.

It was like the fucktard was IN MY MIND. As if he could read my thoughts.

Well, if I was a retarded monkey who liked N'Sync and was for some reason married to a teammate and not Dina. For a moment I nearly thought this was a pratical joke all set up by Mike. After all--Curious George was a monkey. Mike used to hang out with Lance Bass. He and Hull were practically married...

But this just wasn't Mike's style.

Orwellian and fucking scary, this imposter managed to fool all my friends and teammates into thinking that HE was ME. I don't know how he did it. It must have been the memes. You type in a username and the table legitimizes your identity. And apparently you can just go to hotmail.com and type in jasonarnott44 as a username without even having to prove that you're Jason Arnott. Think of all the livejournals and emails out there that don't actually belong to REAL hockey players. There may be hundreds of these FAKE journals floating around on the internet.

I started freaking out. This guy could take over my life. Like Body Snatchers only worse because my body is fucking hot and I don't want to lose it. He could enter my home and fuck my wife, and she'd think it was me and maybe he'd be a great fuck just like me and she'd never know the difference and what if my kid started calling HIM "Daddy". He could jump on the ice during a game and wear my jersey and nobody would be the wiser. Or maybe this would end like a Lifetime movie (it's been a long, hard summer spent on the couch) and he'd kidnap me and then kill me and drink my blood so that he could *become* me and then have a sex change and become a woman who is beaten and abused by her husband who was once molested by his uncle which is why he is so mean to her and then she fights back and shoots him and then her child runs away to become a prostitute in Washington DC.

I nearly had a panic attack until the genius in me told me to read his user info:

[But not really. This is all so fake. I am not Jason Arnott. This is a game. See the website above for more information if you don't get that this is FAKE]

MOTHER FUCKER. Had the gall to say straight to my face...er, email, that he was Jason Arnott and then in his own journal refute that very fact?

So I emailed him last night:

To: jasonarnott44@hotmail.com
From: jasonarnott2544@hotmail.com
Re: Check your user info, idiot aka FAKE JASON ARNOTT

"This is all so fake. I am not Jason Arnott. This is a game."

HA! What do you say to that? And this is *not* a game. THIS IS MY LIFE! STOP FUCKING WITH IT. AND STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE.


And I figured that was the end of that. Until three hours ago when I opened my email box:

To: jasonarnott2544@hotmail.com
From: jasonarnott44@hotmail.com
Re: re:Check your user info, idiot aka FAKE JASON ARNOTT

I wrote that in my profile so that extremely good looking women with big tits would not email me or reply in massive numbers to my lj entries propositioning me. I'm a married man now. I have principles.

-Jason "Real" Arnott

Fuck. Clearly this guy is just as smart as I am. We could have a battle of the wits in these emails and because we both think we're Jason Arnott neither of us would ever win. Genius vesus genius. He cannot be outsmarted.

But he can be voted off.

If you support this other "Jason Arnott" please raise your hand and go fuck yourself.
If you support me, the REAL Jason Arnott, reply here.

I will count all the votes, unless you are not a citizen of this country, have voted provisionally, have a pregnant or hanging chad, vote against me, or live in Florida. This is a democracy. So every vote counts. Except the ones that don't.

At the end of the week, when I have the most votes, we will go hunt down this imposter and kill him.

After all, without hockey, we might as well do some killing. I have extra guns and bows for those of you who do not own any weapons.

OOCCollapse )
Comments: 6 comments -comment on this.

Sunday, February 1st, 2004

Time:5:27 pm.
I have to go shower now.


Last night was a little sloppy, and Turks was tired, but we pulled out a win. One more until the break. Not too sure about this break. It'll be good to have a break, but I'm not sure our team even wants to take a break (even Turks wants to keep playing) and this All Star weekend won't be like weekends past.

I've been trolling message boards and I came across an ingenius theory:

CaptainMike: Is it just a coincidence that the Stars started playing great roughly the same time that Modano shaved off his beard? By shaving, maybe Modano has indicated that it's time to get serious, and maybe the other guys on the team have gotten the message.

MAN! If I had known that I would have bought him a lady bic sooner.

And all along here I thought it was because he was finally getting laid. Stupid me.
Comments: 9 comments -comment on this.

Sunday, January 25th, 2004

Time:12:35 am.
Do you like apples?Collapse )
Comments: 1 comment -comment on this.

Thursday, January 22nd, 2004

Time:10:36 pm.
Another stupid memeCollapse )
Comments: 3 comments -comment on this.

Time:9:19 pm.
What the fuck?Collapse )
Comments: 1 comment -comment on this.

Wednesday, December 31st, 2003

Time:1:37 am.
Before the game, and before the party, I figure I'd look back on 2003 since the only reflection I hope to see later tonight is that of my drink or the mirrors on my ceiling.

My resolutions last year were to stay away from Mo's house. I did, but I don't think it mattered very much. My year wasn't particularly shitty or particularly spectacular because I avoided the joint.


I punched some people.

I pissed some people off.

I took some chances, I made some mistakes, made some more mistakes, and then accepted them.

I found a moose and got married. I changed my ways and lost a few pounds I met the new kids and made them feel welcome.

The season had its ups and downs, just like my life off ice, but it was what it was, and 2003 is nearly over. My resolutions seemed to have come mid-year, and though I may not be a better man---wait. Fuck yes, I'm a better man. I'm better in bed and I lost a few pounds so my endurance is better than ever, and my body is even more impressive. Two things very hard to improve upon because they were already fantastic, but because I am Jason Arnott, I took myself to the next level. In Hindu, I am pretty sure I am called the "supernova." There is probably nothing left for me to achieve.

Wait. No. I could improve my golf handicap.
Comments: comment on this.

Friday, November 7th, 2003

Time:9:47 pm.
You wonder how that big oaf can update every single day and drone on and on about silly little things like his little daughter's scraped knee. He thinks the world revolves around him, or perhaps he just thinks that he woke up in somebody else's life. He is always confused, and wondering, and remembering. He remembers far too much, and in far too much detail, and far too often for his own good.

And he thinks that it is because he made a difference. Touched another life. Helped slow down, or stop a forward.

And you are so incredibly glad that you only update when you're bored and feel like mocking other people. That you're frustrated at work, but secretly pleased at your own effort; that, for once, you are the solution, the answer, and that this isn't your fault. No letters need to be stripped from your jersey, and no one even thinks about switching the logo and the colours of your sweater. You're so incredibly glad that most of your entries revolve around sex, because sex is fucking great, and safe, in more ways than one.
Comments: comment on this.

Tuesday, November 4th, 2003

Time:9:40 am.

So this is what it's like when you work your fucking ass off and nobody else does.

No wonder those guys back in Edmonton were so pissed off at me.
Comments: comment on this.

Wednesday, October 29th, 2003

Time:9:39 pm.
I'm tired of lying. I'm coming clean.

It wasn't Atkins.

It was sex.
Comments: comment on this.

Saturday, October 18th, 2003

Time:2:59 am.
Fucking fuck yeah, mother fuckers!

Finally got a goal. :)
Comments: comment on this.

Thursday, October 9th, 2003

Time:2:06 pm.
Go figure.Collapse )
Comments: 4 comments -comment on this.

Monday, September 29th, 2003

Time:11:11 pm.
Once upon a time there was a little pansy who cried whenever I posted in his journal.

He tripped over the blue line, slid into the goal post, got a concussion, and then his coach yelled at him and spit gum in his hair.

The End.

Moral of the story? Don't be a pansy or you'll get gum in your hair.
Comments: comment on this.

Sunday, September 14th, 2003

Time:12:07 am.
Yeah, you wish you were cool enough to have an award named after you.

The ARNOTTSCollapse )
Comments: 19 comments -comment on this.

Friday, September 12th, 2003

Subject:Did you wet yourselves?
Time:6:04 pm.
Eric didn't.

No award show for him.

And no award show for the rest of you. Blame Eric. Eric is used to people yelling and berating him over things he has no control over:

Eric, you no good son of a bitch! Where are all the fish?
God dammit, Eric, it's raining. Good job, Eric.
Way to go with the concussion, dumbass.
Eric! You peed all over the new rug--

No, that's my dog. Who ate all the awards. Originally, I put Oliver in charge of scanning them all into the computer so that I could post the ARNOTTs leisurely from Vail, but my dog ate them all. Now I have Mathias and Antti furiously creating new ones with crayons, cardboard, and scissors. It's slow going, however, because they're Swedish, Finnish, and stupid. Also, for some strange reason when I yell at them in English, they don't understand and just start crying.

Oh well. Welcome to the NHL, boys.
Comments: 3 comments -comment on this.

Wednesday, September 10th, 2003

Time:2:19 pm.
Award shows are good because generally they last 2 to 3 to 4.567 hours, so you can have a mighty good nap. If you happen to miss them, however, you just get your wife to talk to you about her day, and you're usually good. It's amazing how I've already learned how to sleep with my eyes open. I've only been a husband for a few months, and already I've perfected it. What can I say--I'm a fast learner.

I bring up this topic because I have a reason (I'm not like those stupid fucks who post because their brother was mean to them, their friend spilled juice on their crocheted doily couch, or their boyfriend was really really sweet to them): The Rings.

Stupid little awards given out for "best twirler," "nicest friend"..... what kind of bullshit awards are those? What a gyp.

And earlier this year--the NHL awards? Watching a bunch of half-legends struggle to read the teleprompter (perhaps because they're old farts, and perhaps because they never learned to read) was not what I call a quality award show. However, the awards on this show have actual meaning, and are voted on by members of the hockey community or the media.

And that's where the OV Rings went all wrong. Nominations and voting were left up to the public. The public.

The same public that watches sluts marry a millionaire, sluts trying to marry a fake-millionaire, elect a fucking idiot to be president---

I realize so far that I've only mentioned the American public, but I think that they're the only ones that really matter. Countries like Sweden, Spain, and Russia shouldn't exist. They're tiny and weak and don't speak English. I'm certain we can convince Bush to bomb them so I don't have to deal with their stupid accents anymore.

Which is why I created the ARNOTT awards aka the fucking kick ass awards. These ain't your momma's awards.

The ARNOTT awards were voted/deliberated upon by an expert panel. The panel included the creator himself, some OV members, some MBH members, my dog, a few random people I tortured by making them read some of your guys' entries, and Wayne Gretzky.

That's right folks--you read your screen correctly. The Great One himself was involved in these awards. The Great One, meaning my dog. Yeah, he's pretty great.

There won't be any pussy award shows or chats where you have to IM me to get in (as if I'd actually want any of you fuckers bothering me). Instead the winners will be revealed on Friday in a grand flourish in this very journal.

So please, wet yourself in anticipation, folks, and prepare yourselves for the greatest awards ever.
Comments: 5 comments -comment on this.

Saturday, August 23rd, 2003

Time:2:02 am.
Hey all you stupid fucks! Nice to see none of you have changed while I have been away. I have commented on a few journals while I've been away, but if I haven't commented on yours, assume that either I hate you and didn't feel like making your cry, you aren't worth commenting on, you're so stupid it wouldn't matter if I commented or not, or I actually have a life... er.. sex life...er... life, and haven't had a chance to comment.

Honeymoon? Vacation? Hell?Collapse )

Over all though, marriage suits me. However, if I had to do it all over again, I'd skip the ceremony, the stupid presents, and keep the open bar and the sex. Booze and sex. Those are after all the most important things in life, eh? Okay, so I like hockey too. Hmmm.. Sex, hockey, alcohol? Sex, alcohol, hockey? It is so hard to prioritize. Shit. You have to throw golf in there too. Hmmm. I think I'll ponder that this weekend in between gorging myself with chicken pot pie.

Oh. Heads up: 'Pretty Little Things'? Not about hot chicks with accents. Boy, did I get that synopsis wrong.

Matty. Heard your house burned down. Cool. Remember Scotty? He's homeless too. Give him one of your jerseys and I bet he'll teach you the street smarts so that you can survive behind the grocery store of your choice.
Comments: 9 comments -comment on this.

Tuesday, August 19th, 2003

Time:1:55 am.

I fuck her.


I fuck her not.


I fuck her.


I fuck her not.


I fuck her.


I fuck her not.


I fu--

You know, it's amazing how that games changes once you're a married man.

I remember when it used to be, "*pluck* I fuck her. *pluck* I have another drink and then fuck her. *pluck* I have two more drinks and then fuck her. *pluck*"

Obviously though, I'm a married man now. So the game had to change just like I did. I've learned the word "compromise."

I do whatever Dina tells me to or I get no chicken pot pie.

It's a nice compromise.
Comments: comment on this.

Sunday, August 17th, 2003

Time:1:37 am.
I'm so glad Dina decided to take it upon herself to throw away all my golf clubs.


They even had those really cool Kermit the Frog club covers.

So I accidentally lit those stupid fucking wicker balls on fire. Fuck she was angry. Not like I lit all those dead flowers she has hanging around in the bathrooms on fire. Oh, my mistake--potpurri. DEAD DECAYING FLOWER MULCH!

Edit: I bought new golf clubs. Dina bought a love couch, five fucking wicker balls, more fucking mulch, "croissants to remind us of our wonderful honeymoon" aka I'm hungry and if I don't get them you don't get chicken pot pie, and three new dresses.

How does that work out evenly?

Because she's an actress-slash-model, and I am only a lowly athlete (who pays all the bills. my title should be athlete-slash-wallet) somehow she's managed to do all the math and it always works out in her favor.
Comments: comment on this.

Friday, August 15th, 2003

Time:5:29 pm.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I grew up drinking Coca-Cola when it still had coke in it.

I really hate comics who aren't funny. They talk a lot and wave their hands around in crazy gestures hoping for a laugh, but if they get anything it's just a pity laugh because everyone feels sorry for them. Sort of like Andy Ference. Although, I don't think I'd waste even a laugh on him. I'd hope that he was at the Apollo and then get booed off and chased away by the guy with the broom. Ha ha. Andy Ference chased by a broom.

Good thing Rich is a good comic.

As you can tell, I finally figured out how Tivo works. Another thing Dina is useful for around the house. She actually reads directions. I didn't think anybody did that anymore.

But like I said, Rich is a good comic. He makes fun of people. All people. Mainly stupid ones, but mostly everyone. That's why I like him so much. He's not afraid to put down anyone. He reminds me of MacT. Only MacT isn't as funny, chews gum, doesn't have that awful East coast accent Rich does, and Rich isn't gay.
Comments: comment on this.

Tuesday, August 12th, 2003

Time:6:20 pm.
Since no one reads this--*cough* I mean since all my friends and everyone who gave me (read: Dina) a gift reads this, I figure I don't really have to send out individual cards. I can just say:


Why should I go to the effort of saying, "Hey, Turks, thanks for the... oh, I mean, Mrs. Turco thank you for buying that lovely gift and signing your name and Marty's." "Brendan, thanks for the---I mean, Marie, thanks for picking out the stupid shit that Dina wanted and signing the card with Brendan's name" "Derian, tell your wife thanks for the silver candlesticks that you did not buy or have any part of buying." "Patty, thanks for the really ugly shirts. Dina's returning them for store credit so that she can buy some DRAGON FLY salt and pepper shakers."

Oh. Did you guys not get the memo?

Butterfly salt and pepper shakers? So 1999.

It's all about the dragon flies.

Jesus. I swear to fucking god I'm going to go insane. That woman in seeping into my brain. And, now that we're married she cares about how my socks never make it into the hamper? How I have more hair products than she does? How I like to play ps2 naked?

Man, I thought when you married the woman she was supposed to shut up and go into the kitchen and let you have all the chicken pot pie you wanted.

Times, they are-a-changin'.
Comments: comment on this.

LiveJournal for Jason.

View:User Info.
View:Website (My Website).
You're looking at the latest 20 entries. Missed some entries? Then simply jump back 20 entries.