Wait, The Devils Signed WHO?

So there we were yesterday enjoying a loooooong day of hockey, all ready to break up our monotony by making cocktails, with an eye toward a certain recipe I’d dug up on Absolut’s website, and all of a sudden the news comes down the wire: The Devils have signed Brendan Shanahan.

Yeah, Brendan Shanahan. I know what you’re thinking — surely he died in Vegas? No, apparently he did not. He lingered on, well past his expiry date, with his stink of Whaler-killing, ring-whoring, and being a Ranger, just waiting to bring an extra bitter taste to my 2008-2009 Devils experience. (As if Scott Clemmensen and Bobby Holik weren’t bad enough.) With that news, the Absolut Thanksgiving Cooler got some major tweakage, and I concocted instead a drink we dubbed the Oh Shit Shanny.

Oh Shit Shanny

It’s 2 oz. of vanilla vodka and 2 oz. of fresh-squeezed orange juice, the juice of half a lime, and 1/2 oz. of cranberry syrup*. Shake, then pour over ice and top with seltzer water. Where Shanny is old, musty, horse-toothed and slow, this cocktail is sweet, sassy, delicious and smooth. It’s kind of his opposite, in liquid form. More specifically, it kind of tastes like cake batter soda. A few of these really softens the blow of bad sports news, that’s for sure.

*Cranberry syrup is just one part each of water and sugar, combined as with simple syrup, and then two parts of cranberries added once the sugar has completely dissolved. Simmer for a few minutes and then strain through a fine mesh or cloth. Grenadine would work just as well, though!

(Posted by Schnookie)

7 Comments

Filed under Bad News, Drinky-Drinky

7 responses to “Wait, The Devils Signed WHO?

  1. Gabby

    This sounds delicious–was it at all baby-asprinish? Or just cakey? Also, what is ring-whoring?

  2. It was delicious! I don’t have a ton of experience with baby aspirin, but I can tell you this drink was cakey in the best possible way. I had a sip of a “cake batter martini” once which was waaaay to noxious. This was like if boxed cake batter was liquefied into something light, bright, sparkly, and wonderful. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

    “Ring-whoring” is the highly technical term for when a star athlete who’s been a key player on a losing team for many years sells out, gives up on his team and his team’s fans, and signs with the team most likely to win a championship (and thus a championship ring). It’s all very unsavory! :D

  3. Well, now I have an idea of how to honor your stellar choice of Moonraker for Worst Movies Ever…

  4. Cake batter soda drinks AND cookie dough pudding? Excellent.

    I think I have an old example of a ring-whore – Pavel Bure when he was a Canuck. Blech.

    See, I only know stuff about the Canucks. And that’s after I look it up.

  5. See, I only know stuff about the Canucks. And that’s after I look it up.

    That’s how it begins! (And Pavel Bure was a TOTAL ring whore! Of course, the last laugh was on him, because he got shipped to some pretty lousy franchises instead of actual contenders. I love a happy ending! :P)

    Well, now I have an idea of how to honor your stellar choice of Moonraker for Worst Movies Ever…

    Oooh, this would be a great campanion to Moonraker!

  6. Gabby

    Thanks, Pookie–that does sound unsavory! Let’s hope we’re not treated to shots of Shanny’s bony chest naked on camera post game–that’s gonna require more drinking than usual. Every once in a while do any of you become overcome with sorrow and start rocking back and forth whining “Marty, Marty, Marty”. Because, I,um, haven’t. More drinks, please!

  7. Every once in a while do any of you become overcome with sorrow and start rocking back and forth whining “Marty, Marty, Marty”. Because, I,um, haven’t.

    The guys were doing well enough there for a while that I was okay, but now that the Zubrus/Patty/Gio line has stopped scoring, and everyone’s looking sluggish, and the skaters aren’t making up for the fact that Clemmer’s a terrible goalie… Yeah. There’s a lot more rocking in the fetal position and whining “Marty, Marty, Marty”. It’s a rough life we lead! (Our mantra actually is, “Is it March yet?” We say that A LOT. And then follow it with a stiff drink.) (That said… is it March yet?)

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