Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Draft #154
Weekend Review
Friday: Not much to report about here. I ate some McDonald's, did some laundry, cooked some homemade mac n' cheese--Paula Dean style* (any recipe containing enough heart clogging ingredients to kill the sturdiest of horses), and watched about an hour's worth of Borat clips on youtube.com. Como se dice "lame" en espanol? I'm referring to my evening and not Borat.
A) I realize staying home on a Friday night to finish laundry and cook mass quantities of jumbo elbow macaroni is extremely 40-year-old virginish of me, but sometimes a guy just gets a craving for egg salad.....I mean macaroni.
B) Who is this Borat guy? Where is he from? Does he have his own show? Why haven't I heard of him before? Who wants to go with me to see his new movie? Looks like a riot.
C) men, from what I am told, has a lot of protein.
Saturday: Haus, Matty K, Los Gravens cuatro, Roberto, Scuba, Stackhouse, and I all hit up Zim's (Milwaukee's finest sports bar) to take in some of the action from the Wisconsin/Minnesota game. If you like sports and you like bars (and the liquid stored behind the bar), then head on down to Zim's. Conviently located on Milwaukee St. between Wells and Wisconsin Ave.
After Zim's, it was off to the lakefront for some intense co-ed, two hand touch football. The 3-0 Refugees (that's us) were taking on the 3-0 Wolfpack in a battle of the undefeateds, and when the dust finally settled, it was the Wolfpack, standing strong with their cleats pressed firmly on our throats as we were left squirming, crying for our mommies. Final score 20-6.
The team could have let the loss weigh heavy on the soul, but we didn't. The pain of defeat that is associated with co-ed two hand touch football isn't anything that can't be washed away with a pitcher of beer and a dozen cookies. Pretty much everybody that was at the game made it to the sponsor afterwards for the cookout and mini-booze-athon, which is saying something, since most of the team decided to reproduce in the offseason, thus making alcohol abuse a bi-weekly activity at best due to parental duties.
Some of the highlights of the evening included:
-various team members dancing on top of the bar during an Abba song
-Stackhouse yelling, "You know you want it" as he was dancing on top of the bar exposing his navel cavity
-Stackhouse telling everybody that he was horny
-any of the power plays during the Badger hockey game
-the Auburn last second fumble recovery for a touchdown which put Haus over the top on his total points wager
-the over $400 bar tab we put together as a team from 4pm to 10:30pm. This doesn't include the beer from home we snuck into the patio area while grilling, the pitchers we poured ourselves from the active tap behind the patio bar while the bartenders weren't looking, the drinks we bought ourselves with cash and didn't put on the tab, and all that didn't even include food, it was just alcohol. How the F didn't we get a free round or two? Isn't that part of the basics of bartending guidelines manual? Fitzgibbon's is a complete crap hole!! My vote is for Zim's next year!
And then there was the highlight of the season:
After half the team left at about 10:30pm, the rest of us stayed for a few more rounds. For a better part of the evening there was this sinister looking fellow in a cowboy hat and a black trenchcoat, just sitting by himself, drinking. Nobody said anything to him, nobody acknowledged his presence, he was a weirdo. At one point (although I didn't see it) someone said he licked the bar before he got up to go to the bathroom. Who does that?!?! His licking of the bar should have been all the foreshadowing we needed to predict what was going to happen, but life is full of surprises and this night was no exception.
As I was in the back of the bar gathering some of the utensils and supplies from the cookout, a bit of a scrum broke out at the opposite end and the weirdo in the cowboy hat was in the middle of it. I was told that a girl from our group had taken off his hat, an act that apparently triggers a tazmanian type reaction, thanks to the drum of crazy pills this pud must have eaten before he went out on the town.
This caused Bill (the boyfriend of the girl who removed the hat) to get equally batty (and rightfully so) since the weirdo was threatening to kick her and all of our asses. A couple of shoves and fu-q's later, the weirdo was given the boot, never to return.......
Until 5 minutes later when he came busting through the doors looking for more trouble. Haus met him first and told him to get out of the bar, but the weirdo wasn't going to hear it and he started shoving Haus. Unfortunately my brotherly instincts never really kicked in, but luckily three other guys (Bill, Stackhouse, and huge random guy) jumped in before Haus got his titties light up by Extasy McGee. My reaction took me back to my high school football days when a fumble occurred on the field, and I would just stand there and watch it. By the time my brain would process what was taking place, about nine other players would already be leaping for the loose ball.
Same deal here, by the time my brain processed what was happening, the cowboy had four bruisers whaling on his ass, haymakers flying in from all directions. Like any good movie, the tussle ended up outside where the cops eventually broke it up using their drawn guns as incentive to stop fighting. The cowboy ended up with a bloody face and a free ride to the cop shop. It was single handedly one of the coolest things I've ever seen in my life. It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. I'll never forget the image of the cowboy getting pounced on ala four cougars bearing in on a wounded gazelle. And eventhough I didn't participate (despite literally standing right next to all the action) it was my very first bar fight. And thankfully, I came away unscathed.
Sunday: I could have shit a golden egg and that still wouldn't have topped Saturday's main event, so I'm not even going to bother.
# posted by hucklebuck @ 10:37 AM 
Comments:
<< Home
Kurt, you were that weekend's MVP. Between the burgers, the dancing, and the fighting, no one shined brighter.
Haus, you should go on Fitzgibbon's payroll. You could head up both the grilling and the bouncing divisions.
Kurt, you might not have actively lifted your shirt in an effort to expose your navel, but your sexy moves just made your top naturally ride up a bit, thus unknowingly exposing your navel. But don't worry, you brought the dewpoint up a few degrees in that joint. Most of the ladies headed to the bathroom right after the performance to change into a fresh pair of knickers.
Haus, you should go on Fitzgibbon's payroll. You could head up both the grilling and the bouncing divisions.
Kurt, you might not have actively lifted your shirt in an effort to expose your navel, but your sexy moves just made your top naturally ride up a bit, thus unknowingly exposing your navel. But don't worry, you brought the dewpoint up a few degrees in that joint. Most of the ladies headed to the bathroom right after the performance to change into a fresh pair of knickers.
After reading of the events, I am thoroughly disappointed in myself that I didn't peel myself off of my couch long enough to clean the stench of laziness off of my body and venture down to fitzgibbons myself.
A terrible decision that I will now have to live with until next weekend.
A terrible decision that I will now have to live with until next weekend.
Filzen, it would have been nice to have another scrapper in the mix, but I also understand the lure of spending a day on the couch, picking at eye crusties and marinating in your own gastro intestinal expulsions. Sounds like my last 4 Sundays.
Cowboy has got to know that you don't bring that shit into the FG and expect to walk away without some haymakers flying. Dude's sitting at the bar all evening talking smack, not in our house baby, not in the FG baby! Next time this dude thinks of coming across the city, coming across the lake from Le Cage, or whatever homo joint he normally hangs out in, he's gonna know better than to set foot in the FG baby, he's gettin' the jumbo sized can of whoop-ass opened up on 'em next time he sets foot in the FG.
Post a Comment
<< Home
