Love advice with Canadians: the clueless leading the clueless who is in love with clueless.

or, the many times Tyler Seguin tried to come out on Twitter and no one believed him.

None of them have discussed the fact that Duncs is dating knock-off Seabses, because what can they really do about it?

In which Sidney Crosby goes for a walk one day, and somehow most of the NHL ends up worshipping a defaced Winnipegian brick. It's all Jonny Toews' fault.

By the fourth time Crosby has hung up on him, Alex has to admit that this has gone from funny to, frankly, a little hurtful.

Kane blows past Toews' D and circles around, looking for an opening... and he finds one, taking a hard slapper, and Toews gets a piece of that.

In which Sidney Crosby discovers twerking and decides it'd be a good idea to add it to the Penguins' workout routine, and Paulie knows exactly who to blame.

The further adventures of Sidney Crosby, Professional Troll, as told by Beau Bennett. A sequel of sorts to Drop it Low, but it also stands alone.

This is how Sidney Crosby ends up in Alex Ovechkin's living room, one wolf cub in his lap and another gnawing on his Reeboks.

Ninety percent of everyone's problems could be solved by a robot that just texted NO to hockey players on a regular basis. Unfortunately, Sidney didn't have a robot.

In which Geno is a famous porn star and Sid needs money to pay for hockey gear. “Did you just introduce yourself to my ass?”

Sid’s been dropping subtle clues for years, it feels like, but Geno’s never picked up what he’s thrown down. So when the perfect opportunity presents itself—well, he’d have to be an idiot not to take advantage. The conversational topic is Things That Have Disappointed You in the Bedroom. Sid has this all wrapped up, to be honest. “Guys with big dicks,” he says flatly, and Tanger spits his beer all over the table. (OR: The Bedroom Adventures of Sidney Crosby, Troll)

Sid refuses to be jealous of something that's two and a half feet high and can't play hockey. OR: The Pittsburgh Zoo named some penguins after the Penguins, and no one will let Sid forget the one named after him has its shit together, because all his friends are assholes. Also there's pining.

She puts the number into her phone as Phil's friend. Phil has a lot of friends, more than Amanda knows. For all that the media shits on him, he's easy to like away from the camera. He's always meeting up with old buddies during the summer to shoot the shit and grill out in someone's backyard. This guy could be anybody, really, except for Bozie, because Amanda already has Bozie's number in her phone.

“Oh my God, shut up Danny, you went to play for the Habs, you don’t know my pain.” Or, Claude Giroux gets traded to the Penguins.

There are six new bug reports in Jira since Sid checked last night at 10PM. An open-plan workroom over, Richie is giving the coworking space tour to the new guy. "There's Flower from NetProfit… and there's Sidney Crosby," Richie says. "He's with Penng now, but he was at Facebook early." "Facebook, wow," says the new guy. Sid resists the urge to climb under his own desk.

It’s already embarrassing enough when you accidentally call your teacher ‘mom’, but it’s a lot worse when it’s your captain, as Conor is about to discover. Sid just doesn’t remember signing any adoption papers.

Geno loves kids, but not the way Sid loves kids. Sid has a younger sister; Geno lived with Seryozha and Ksenia and Natalie for two years. Which is to say, he survived potty training and checkers and temper tantrums, as well as several toddler ballet recitals. Every time they work with the Little Penguins, it's like Sid is fresh off a thorough Obliviation. Geno, meanwhile, is prepared for war.

Hilary is okay with having a rep if it means NHL stars bring her Cheetos.

Sid comes out. This is what happens next.

Alex loves his kids, he really does, but he also might kill them. That is, if they don't put him in a goddamn early grave first. (Cop bribing, theft of public property, and how to photoshoot your dick properly in order to seduce a teammate: all part of a captain's responsibilities to his rookies.)

When your love for someone or something changes, you get love fever. When you get love fever, you usually get a love rash: a nasty, persistent itch in the shape of flowers or birds or your lover's hands. Alex has always noticed that Nicky doesn't get love blisters, just like he's noticed how Nicky fumes after losses, and prefers lasagna to ziti, and likes his girlfriends to cut his hair. He just assumed Nicky was one of those lucky people, the ones who don't get the rash.

All Leon wanted were some easy recipes, and instead he got this guy, this – Matthew Tkachuk, alias tkachukycheese, YouTube channel owner by bi-weekly afternoon and dietician who works a lot with school classes by normal profession. Matthew holds up a potato peel broken in two pieces. “And just remember, if it doesn’t work out perfectly, that’s fine. It’s all about practice and trying and enjoying the process. Perfection isn’t a prerequisite for being liked. Just look at the Oilers."

It’s not - it’s not a thing. Really. Not a thing-thing, at the very least. He doesn't think it can be a thing if you only think about it and don't act on it, excepting that one time when Connor was straight up nailing him to the bed. He reasons that it certainly can't be a thing-thing if you've never even talked about it with your not-boyfriend. Dylan resolves to figure his shit out and have less hyphens involved in his life. (or: Connor McDaddy)

Either way, there was someone or something to blame for the fact that Jack ended up sending Connor Fucking McDavid a dick pic. Perhaps it was the universe as a whole.

There is a fucking primer. Dylan doesn't quite know what to do with that.

The girl on Tinder is typing again. why don’t you show me how good you are with a cock Tyler coughs and drops his phone. That’s—wow. He did not expect her to go there.

“Wait, so you’ve all tried it?” Jonny asks.

They get to the tables with the guys, who’re watching with varying levels of amusement, and finally Ritter drops him on the padded bench. Matt bounces and nearly slides right off. Ritter manages to catch him, one firm hand planted on his chest, pressing him down. “Stay,” he orders and Matt sucks in a sharp breath as something in him goes molten hot. OR Matt's got a bit of a Ritter sized problem.