Your final MYFO thought before the weekend shall come in the form of What Are You Thinking?, where we do our best to poke fun at YOU, the ticket-buying hockey fan.  Now every day, NHL.com uses the bottom of their page to celebrate sports photography with its Frozen Moment, a stellar snapshot that truly embraces the majesty and grace of the game.  The players pictured are exhibiting talent, agility, and greatness.

You, the dufus captured sitting in the third row behind the awesomeness, do not.

Each Friday afternoon, we’ll pull one of the week’s Frozen Moments, pick a guy (or hopefully, insanely hot gal), and it will be your job over the weekend to tell us what, exactly, that person is thinking.  We’ll decide on a winner and keep stats.  Who knows, maybe in the sidebar.

It's been a long time, Recurring Feature.

With the return of WAYT, we anticipate a streak of normalcy here at the MYFOs.  The Olympics clearly threw us for a loop, which by loop we clearly mean "wicked 5-week bender."  Sorry about that.  We're in the season's homestretch, and now is NOT the time to come up small in the area of hockey-themed dickjokery.*

*July is the time to come up small in the area of hockey-themed dickjokery.

After the jump, this week's target of mockery.

Why do I get the feeling we're going to get a whole new readership with that headline?

For awhile there, I thought it might be fun to be Denis Grebeshkov.  There are worse things in the world to be than 26 and Russian playing in the National Hockey League.  No one looks at you funny if you try to order vodka at Denny's with your Grand Slam breakfast, you've got an awesome techno soundtrack playing in your subconscious at all times, and oh yeah - you're no longer in FREEZING COLD RUSSIA.

And if that weren't enough, your time in North America seems to be getting better and better.  You got to go the Olympics in Vancouver, and getting bounced by Canada in the quarters allowed you to go to all the other event.  And after two full seasons as a part of Kevin Lowe's Albertan Trainwreck, Grebeshkov was dealt at the deadline to Nashville.  That's in Tennessee.  Today, Tennessee is 26 degrees warmer than Edmonton.

And with all due respect to Shania Twain and Terri Clark, Nashville scores very high in the "smoking hot singer songwriters hoping to get discovered" demo.  Point for the G Man!

But with every peak, there must be a valley.

A truly remarkable thing occurred at one of the other Deadspinoffs last night; after years of nothing, the blogger once known as Footsteps Falco staggered into the office and declared his return to the Kissing Suzy Kolber team he once helped to start in 2006.  He's been gone for three whole years, and just like that, he's back.  I didn't realize that re-incarnation existed in the blogosphere (all SuperMikes aside), but just like that, the hardest working football dick jokers on the net went from 6 to 7.

Oh crap, could this happen to us?

While America has moved past the Olympics and chosen to focus on things like Spring Training, March Madness, and (sigh) Brett Favre, Canada seems to be hooked on some story about their national team winning some international hockey competition a few weeks back.  And since you can only recap a game in so many ways, it's the follow-up stories that seem to be getting their legs late in the third period.  One such story involves Hockey Jesus ability to how convert the masses, but is unable to keep his crap together.

Yes, it is reported that following Canada's gold medal win, the equipment strewn about the ice was collected and returned to players.  However, the game winning stick and glove of Crosby have gone missing.  MYFO, while not responsible for the theft, would like to profit from it.  So we've dispatched our finest CSI team to the scene.  Pictures and potential perps, after the jump.

The hot topic in the league this week: what to do about blindside blows to the head. The debate, which has simmered all season long, came to a boil after the Penguins' Matt Cooke collided with the Bruins' Marc Savard, leading to stretcherization and an anticipated suspension.

We at MYFO are not smart enough to comment knowledgeably on this issue. But we bring our own brand of enlightenment in the form of a cable news-style "debate." Please welcome our two experts today: Former Philadelphia Flyer great Eric Lindros, and his much less talented younger brother Brett. Gentleman, welcome to the show.

Eric: Thanks. LeNoc. I'm. A. Big. Fan.

Brett: I don't want to go to Calgary, eh?

Hockey season is finally upon us. But damn it, weekends exist all year round. And just because the NHL has decided to schedule games on said weekend doesn’t mean our schedules are magically freed up for 24/7 snark. We’ve got basements to clean, and our respective mothers learned everything they know from Mike Keenan. So on Monday mornings, you will get a recap post and a picture of noted thespian Terry Kiser. Enjoy.

Last night, Jeff Bridges took home an Academy Award for his leading turn in the movie Crazy Heart. Right off the bat, you realize that Bridges is a Hollywood veteran that is probably deserving of an award the minute he does any role with a little gravitas.  What you don't realize is that he's been nominated 4 times before.  Three of them came at a time when the NHL had 21 teams, with the fourth being The Contender in 2001.  Regardless of those four pictures, Bridges is best known for The Big Lebowski, and the reason he didn't get nominated for The Big Lebowski is that in that picture he wasn't acting at all.  He was playing himself.

Had his acceptance speech been simply, "The Dude Abides." and then walk off the stage, he'd be my favorite actor for the rest of my life.

Derek Morris: This feels so right, yet so wrong at the same time. Boston has been a confusing place for me.

Tommy: Shut the fack up, queeah, and get to work on that cawk!

Derek: I though switching teams would be good for me. A new opportunity. A chance to be free, to express myself. But sometimes, it's just frustrating. I feel empty.

Tommy: I will fill up yah fat mouth with my cawk!

Peter Chiarelli: Derek...oh, sorry to interrupt. I'm afraid I have some important news. You're changing teams.

Breaking news out of the ATL today: the Thrashers have signed Chris Chelios.

Chelios, who has been toiling this season for the AHL powerhouse Chicago Wolves, has been added to Atlanta's roster as a means of insurance should their blueline get crushed underneath the weight of Ron Hainsey's -14 rating.  By comparison, Chelios has racked up a +35 in 44 games with the Wolves, an impressive feat even once you discount that the Wolves forbid visiting teams from using sticks when visiting the Allstate Arena.  Cheaters.

At the age of 48, Chelios now joins a vaunted franchise nearly 21% as old as he is.  With a career that included tours of duty in Montreal, Chicago, and Detroit, it's nice to see him expand his requirements to playing for an Original 28 franchise.

In addition, this move means marketing for Atlanta, a team currently on the outside looking in come playoff time.  Don Waddell will no doubt want to rush to get Chelios jerseys on the shelves, but the question remains - what number will he wear?

We analyze this conundrum, after the jump.

No, I'm not talking about Sidney Christ's Olympic gold-winning goal. The Dallas Stars have agreed to pay Steve Ott almost $12 million to make a nuisance of himself for the next few seasons.

As a proud fan of Sean Avery, Darcy Hordichuk, Jordin Tootoo, Dale Hunter and Tie Domi, I couldn't be happier for the little fuck. Steve Ott should have been in the Olympics, spearing Slovaks and running Russians, slashing Swedes and, er, checking Czechs.