Still looking for the driver/owner of the Blues Buick, otherwise fondly referred to as the Bloosier-Mobile.

Now for something even more absurd. 

We join diehard Blues fans (or, Bloosiers) Frank & Dino in the spring of 1986. Reagan was President. Hogan was the champion. And Tom Cruise was actually cool in Top Gun.

What follows are entries from Dino's diary.

May 13, 1986
Last night Frank and I went down to the Arena and saw the most amazing game of our lives. The Blues were down late and Greg Paslawski came through with two third period goals. At that point, we guzzled four 24oz beers in three minutes as the Arena exploded and began to smell like a Johnny on the spot. I thought the place was gonna come apart. We all went crazy when Wickenheiser scored the game winner in overtime. We even threatened to kill everyone who was wearing a Flames jersey. I had such a good time that I didn't show up for my trash route this morning. I'm still wearing my Rob Ramage jersey that I found in the dumpster last week. It's like good luck or something.

March 17, 1988
Brian Sutter scored his 300th goal earlier today and then announced he'll retire after the season. Frank and I had a great time at the game because we dressed up as leprechauns in honor of St. Paddy's day. We began drinking at 4:30 this morning. I'm really surprised I'm able to write this well.

February 16, 1990
Yesterday Frank and I saw Hullsey score his 55th goal of the season. Things really picked up when we decided to piss all over the heads of the Nordique fans sitting below us. This one jerk was wearing a Greg Millen jersey and tried to steal our seats, so we pushed him to the ground and dowsed him with lighter fluid. I tried to piss on him too, but I had just pissed on the fans below us so I didn't have any left. As we were leaving, I told him if he ever showed up at the Arena wearing a jersey of a former Blues player, I'd ransack his home and set it on fire.

March 31, 1991
To end the regular season, the Blues beat up on the North Stars and finished with their best record ever. With Scott Stevens, Hull & Oates, and Glen Featherstone, we're jacked for the Stanley Cup. Frank and I recently swindled some money from some girl scouts and purchased us jerseys of the Cavillini brothers. I chose to be Gino because it rhymes with Dino and Dino is my nickname. My jersey looks so sweet with my new stone washed jean shorts.

May 1, 1991
Harold Snepsts is retiring. I'm growing a giant mustache is honor of Sneptsy.

January 25, 1993
The Arena was on fire last night. The entire place was getting violent, and it got really bad when Cujo and Tim Cheveldae started brawling at center ice. Cujo ripped him up pretty bad. There were 13 fights that I counted in the stands between Red Wing and Blues fans… three of them were started by Frank and me. We got really creative because when everyone started yelling "LET'S GO BLUES! LET'S GO BLUES!" we all started yelling "RED WINGS SUCK! RED WINGS SUCK!" The fan in the Bob Probert jersey took exception so we pelted her with our beers.

On our way out of the parking lot, Frank decided to hit one of the Red Wing fans with his Corsica.

April 26, 1993
Last night, the Blues ripped up the Blackhawks and swept the series. It was awesome because right after Janney scored, Belfour started banging his stick on the net like a drunken monkey. No one expected to see this man... the 8th seeded Blues sweeping Chicago. I'm reverting back to my old ways, and won’t cut the rattails on the back of my head until we make the Stanley Cup. I think this is our year, especially with all the Sutters on board.

After the game, I snuck down to the Chicago locker room and stole Steve Larmer's stick and then broke it over the head of a Blackhawk fan at the bar. Actually, I don't even know if he was a Blackhawk fan, but he played Chicago on the jukebox, so I'm thinking he had to be.

May 6, 1993
The Blues lost game 7 again. Toronto really handed it to us. Frank and I were watching the game at Fast Eddie's and realized during the third period that the Blues weren't going to the Stanley Cup Finals and that Frank's Corsica was about to be repossessed. We snuck out on our bill so we had enough money to have the cab driver take us by White Castle for a sack of ten. My rattails are getting worse, and Frank says I'll have to move out of his basement as he's never watching hockey again.



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