Archive for the ‘san diego’ Category

Cougar Madness Finals…and San Diego

April 6, 2009


After an exciting Saturday of games we have our very own championship to look forward to. Diane Lane continued her streak by knocking off #1 seed Jenifer Aniston by a substantial amount of votes. Mary Louise Parker also continued to dominate the dance by taking down crowd favorite Halle Berry. There are now no more #1 seeds left in the Cougar Madness Tournament. Instead we have a 4 seed versus a 10 seed. Cinderella doesn’t even begin to describe what kind of run Diane Lane is on. A dark horse of sorts, maybe she was overlooked by the selection committee when they placed her as a 10. Oh well, shit happens. Look for the winner of the 2009 Cougar Madness Tournament to be crowned on Monday after the Tar Heels get another banner.

In other news…

I, against my better judgment, ended up in So Cal this weekend. San Diego’s Mission Beach to be precise. I, along with Zach Attack, drove down Friday after work to hang out with the So Cal Shredder himself. Since some people might not want their names on the website and I am too lazy to ask permission I will be using pseudo names that I have come up with. So we went to visit So Cal Shredder, Milk Thistle, Stupid and The Air Up There. When we got there Milk Thistle and I agreed that a good way to start the trip would be to do a Bam Bam Puke N’ Rally. For those of you who don’t know, our friend Sean Bammer came up with this game for use in situations that need bumped up a level or two. Here’s how it works; everyone stands in a circle and shotguns beers until everyone throws up, Then you shotgun one more. That’s it. Everybody wins, nobody loses. I suggest a BBPR anytime you don’t actually have the time to pre-game. The bar was cool that night and I added a little comedy by ball tapping Milk Thistle and laughed as he was reduced to one knee. After the stomach ache passed he promptly punched me in the face. Square in the face. Worth it. I had actually completely forgot about it until Milk Thistle was complaining about his hand hurting the next day. This is how that conversation went:

“ah man, my hand hurts. Did I punch something last night?”
“No, nothing I can think of. Did you like hit a door or something?”
“I don’t know, but it hurts…By the way, thanks for the ball tap last night.”
“haha, ya I got you good huh…wait…YOU punched ME in the face last night, that’s why your hand hurts ass”
“oh ya that’s right, caught you right in your teeth.”

The following day some of the guys went to the beach while I layed around and watched the first disc of Friday Night Lights. Because of that, from now on I will be calling people by their old sports numbers. Therefore, Zach Attack is now just 4. 4, Air Up There and Stupid all got some serious sunburns because of lack of sunscreen and intelligence, so I didn’t feel too bad about being lazy. That afternoon was spent at Boardwalk Bar and Grille watching the basketball games and spitting game at 19 year old girls. For the record, we did not know they were that young and for the record So Cal Shredder didn’t care either way. After 6 hours at the bar we decided to go home and change and go to Guava Beach bar…exactly 10 feet from the previous bar. While there, The Air Up There trailed off to a different bar where, apparently, they had free penis examinations in the bathroom to which he got a hands on inspection. Did I lose you? He got an HJ. We played Wii Bowling and drank beahs (beers with a Boston accent) and I am fairly certain that anyone can beat me in that game…Well, maybe not the guy that was passed out on the couch dressed, head to toe, like a member of Shredder’s Foot Clan. Swear to God. I almost died that night when I woke up and freaked out because I had somehow gotten myself wedged between a half inflated air mattress and the wall. Stupid described my snoring by saying that it sounded like someone had both hands around my neck and were going for a choke out. Sunday morning consisted of watching Role Models…twice… while listening to The Air Up There whine. I am not sure what he was whining about more, how bad his sunburn hurt or how it felt as though his “hands on penis inspection” was done with grade 60 sandpaper. We finished off our mini vacation by going to Phil’s BBQ so The Air Up There could get his pork pulled for the second time in one weekend. Some of the best BBQ I have ever had. Think Sweet Baby Rays (“the sauce is the boss”) on HGH if that’s possible. Now it is just 4 and I on our way back to boring old Vegas. We are somewhere in the middle of San Bernardino and 4 has been yelling at drivers and “the bitch” who gives directions too fast…aka his GPS.

Fun Fact: When intoxicated, 4 told his girl that the GPS had a sexier voice than her…Sorry for partying.

Swung On and Belted!

January 26, 2009

This weekend, in San Diego, we had our second ever Wiffle Ball Homerun Derby Challenge. This was the first time we had used official Wiffle Ball equipment, so we were all a little anxious. Things started out normal that day. Snake told everyone how they would bow to him and he was the greatest thing since seeing himself on game film during high school football. Donk and I both laid claim that we would walk away victorious but our trash talking never quite reached the status of Snakes. Then again, not many peoples can. Glista was his usually hippie self and didn’t say much, he just wanted to play. Then there is Loeffler, the hard hitter from Missouri who often thinks of himself in highest capacity, so we knew he expected to win and he thought of this as a man playing with boys. Things would prove not that easy at all…

After taking some batting practice that looked more like blind folded children swinging at a piñata, we decided to get the game under way. Up first was Don, who knocked out 2 homeruns and set the bar for the game. I came up next and also hit 2 homeruns. Loeffler added 1 and Donk and Snake rounded out the first round with goose eggs. Don and I advanced to the finals where I subsequently won it because Snake dropped a homerun that should have been an out. Thanks again Snake. The next game, I joined Snake and Donk as they continued their downward spiral by putting up 2 more goose eggs. I feel my bad performance in game 2 was a direct result of being a little too awesome in game 1. It happens. Don once again found himself in the finals, but like a postman on Sunday, he was unable to deliver. Loeffler ended up winning game 2 with a towering shot over the head of the Donk.

Now there were 2 players that put up goose eggs and most would consider that a sorry performance. I would agree with most. But I have to say that Donk was a step ahead of Snake because of the way he played in the field. Donk had soft hands/hooves and made a bunch clutch plays. One of which he jumped and robbed me of a homerun. I would say that Donk gets the Golden Glove award for his performance. Since we weren’t using gloves and Donk has no hands, we will be giving him the Golden Hoof award. Way to go Donk!

Snake, on the other hand/hoof, played so terrible that it is going to be hard to explain. First of all, I was the pitcher and he did not hit 1 ball past me the entire two games. All he could do was look at me and say “what is happening?” in a soft, sad whisper of a voice. It was like he had never heard of baseball and never seen anyone swing a bat. His swing was so terrible that I am willing to bet he could not have done better with a tennis racket. When he went to swing, his back foot stepped backwards, his front foot inwards and he swung and pulled his head so far around I thought it was going to spin the like in The Exorcist. After 2 games, we decided to call it a day. I guess we will have to wait until the trip in May to see what happens when Leofler and I go head to head. Snake, do us all a favor and go the batting cages because your lack of skills is MAKING ME SICK!