Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Back and Often Better
So I took three and a half mental health days away from the blog for your sake.
No, not really, I just wasn't motivated to write.
But my mind feels like expelling some crap, so here it is.
We better start with Saturday.
Will and Jesse played their final game at Zorn Arena Saturday night, leaving them with only three guarenteed games left of their basketball careers. It's an end for them, maybe a good thing, maybe not. I'm sure some nostaligic thoughts will linger for at least a few minutes before a beer interupts them. And in a way, it's the end of an era for me and for Adam. I think I'll be driving to Oshkosh and River Falls for the regular season finales.
The Blugolds won't win another game in which Jesse does not play at least 15 minutes. If there is anyone reading this who works for an athletic department at any type of school, stay away from hiring anyone named Terry Gibbons. His ineptitude is truly remarkable.
The 213 played host to a host of guests: Schulz, Bethel, Luke, Alana, Lucy, Derek, and of course Adam. And that doesn't include the usual weekend sleepers over. The night started slowly as we waited for two sets of brothers to return from a banquet. Most of us didn't start drinking until 10:30 or so and we didn't get to the bars until circa 12:30, at which time Luke says his memory stopped recording.
So far this week has been one of those where drops of information about Saturday night have been slowly trickling in to fill my leaky memory bucket. I think it's fair to say that the same goes for a few other 213 members.
At the bar I invented the Deetsathalon, in which Schulz, Bethel, and I participated. It involves slamming a shot of Rumpleman's, an Apple-Jack shot, and a Jaeger Bomb in rapid succession. But I think the next time it needs to kick off with a Tequila shot and then finish with the other three. Binge.
I took a couple match books from behind the bar at She-nan's. I don't know why, but I bought a candle on Sunday just so I could use them. When I'm bitching about being flat broke in a few months, remind me of this... and remind me to return my movie rentals on time. Late fees kill me.
Alright.
The Twins inked Santana to a four year deal. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I will rest easier now.
Pitchers and Catchers are starting to roll into camp. I can't wait for opening day. I can't describe it.
If you read this blog a few weeks back you would have seen me correctly predict that Ray Charles will win some shit because he died. Well, I was right.
The Sports Guy today said that Green Day "made a comeback." He is wrong, just plain wrong. In order to make a comeback, you have to go somewhere first. Meatloaf made a comeback with "I Will Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)" Green Day hasn't gone anywhere. They've had a hit on every album they've put out in the last 10 years. If Richard Marx put out a number one hit, that would be a comeback.
Will and Jesse and I were just in the kitchen doing yet even more rehashing of Saturday night. Apparently after we all had the chance to talk to other people we were able to gather more information about what went down. Will just reminded Jesse and I that a bartender at She-nan's poured shots in our mouths after last call while she stood on the bar. It's three days later and these things are just coming back. Great fun.
The Last Five Things:
5) For the T-Wolves, firing Flip was a mistake.
4) I'm quite happy the Vikings have new ownership.
3) I'm recruiting and have prospects.
2) I just saw Ray and if Jamie Foxx doesn't win the Oscar this year then the whole damn thing is a fraud, he even has Ray Charles' death on his side (same concept as winning grammies).
1) Bring me the weekend.
Until Later.
No, not really, I just wasn't motivated to write.
But my mind feels like expelling some crap, so here it is.
We better start with Saturday.
Will and Jesse played their final game at Zorn Arena Saturday night, leaving them with only three guarenteed games left of their basketball careers. It's an end for them, maybe a good thing, maybe not. I'm sure some nostaligic thoughts will linger for at least a few minutes before a beer interupts them. And in a way, it's the end of an era for me and for Adam. I think I'll be driving to Oshkosh and River Falls for the regular season finales.
The Blugolds won't win another game in which Jesse does not play at least 15 minutes. If there is anyone reading this who works for an athletic department at any type of school, stay away from hiring anyone named Terry Gibbons. His ineptitude is truly remarkable.
The 213 played host to a host of guests: Schulz, Bethel, Luke, Alana, Lucy, Derek, and of course Adam. And that doesn't include the usual weekend sleepers over. The night started slowly as we waited for two sets of brothers to return from a banquet. Most of us didn't start drinking until 10:30 or so and we didn't get to the bars until circa 12:30, at which time Luke says his memory stopped recording.
So far this week has been one of those where drops of information about Saturday night have been slowly trickling in to fill my leaky memory bucket. I think it's fair to say that the same goes for a few other 213 members.
At the bar I invented the Deetsathalon, in which Schulz, Bethel, and I participated. It involves slamming a shot of Rumpleman's, an Apple-Jack shot, and a Jaeger Bomb in rapid succession. But I think the next time it needs to kick off with a Tequila shot and then finish with the other three. Binge.
I took a couple match books from behind the bar at She-nan's. I don't know why, but I bought a candle on Sunday just so I could use them. When I'm bitching about being flat broke in a few months, remind me of this... and remind me to return my movie rentals on time. Late fees kill me.
Alright.
The Twins inked Santana to a four year deal. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I will rest easier now.
Pitchers and Catchers are starting to roll into camp. I can't wait for opening day. I can't describe it.
If you read this blog a few weeks back you would have seen me correctly predict that Ray Charles will win some shit because he died. Well, I was right.
The Sports Guy today said that Green Day "made a comeback." He is wrong, just plain wrong. In order to make a comeback, you have to go somewhere first. Meatloaf made a comeback with "I Will Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)" Green Day hasn't gone anywhere. They've had a hit on every album they've put out in the last 10 years. If Richard Marx put out a number one hit, that would be a comeback.
Will and Jesse and I were just in the kitchen doing yet even more rehashing of Saturday night. Apparently after we all had the chance to talk to other people we were able to gather more information about what went down. Will just reminded Jesse and I that a bartender at She-nan's poured shots in our mouths after last call while she stood on the bar. It's three days later and these things are just coming back. Great fun.
The Last Five Things:
5) For the T-Wolves, firing Flip was a mistake.
4) I'm quite happy the Vikings have new ownership.
3) I'm recruiting and have prospects.
2) I just saw Ray and if Jamie Foxx doesn't win the Oscar this year then the whole damn thing is a fraud, he even has Ray Charles' death on his side (same concept as winning grammies).
1) Bring me the weekend.
Until Later.
