Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Behemoths of the Gridiron and of the Stage
Saturday night I was in Stevens Point for the roommates' basketball game. They got beat, but they were a huge underdog going in and some things in life are going to happen no matter what you do, especially if you play a half-a-dozen different defenses in a very mediocore fashion against a good team. Anyway, you don't care about that.
You want to hear about what happened after the game, when we all came back to Wausau.
Here is the roster for the night's events:
The roommates: Will, Jesse, and Shane
Adam, Josh, and Nate, all East grads of 1997.
Scott and Cal - some Antigo compadres.
First we sat through a painfully long dinner at Green Mill during which all I wanted to do was get a pitcher of beer.
After the marathon dinner ended, we went to Pro Players, had a half dozen drinks, and watched Nate win 100 bucks from the Devil which is the blackjack machine.
Then we debated where we were going to go next. We knew it was either the default watering hole: The Dom - or it was the strip club: Grand Daddy's. We just didn't know what order it was going to be in. Some wanted to get more drunk before hitting up Grand Daddy's, some wanted to save the Dom for last so we could do a strip club rehash there over the night caps.
We decided on Grand Daddy's. We ran into a few high school friends, which was pretty much expected, then we all grabbed our drinks and a chair to take in some fine adult entertainment. About 20 minutes in to our visit, I feel my hair being pulled back and this woman says, "Come on, get up, let's go." I'm thinking to myself, "What the fuck is this, just let me sit and watch." Well that wasn't going to work, grabbed me and I reluctantly followed her around to the other side of the stage. On the way I see a group of my friends giggling in my direction and I know what they've done. They bought me a lap dance from the oldest, ugliest, biggest, holiest stripper I've ever seen in any of my strip club experiences. She was probably about 35, not attractive at all, on the thick side of things - the only thing she had going for her was that she had some pretty nice tits.
So she ushered me into a private booth, told me where to sit and where to keep my hands. She started her dance by stratling me and we talked about where we were from and shit like that... Then I noticed that she has quite a bit of jewelry dangling between her thighs. So, being the curious creature that I am, I ask, "How many piercings do you have?" She responds by standing, spreading her legs, slightly turning to the side and saying, "Count them," in a very giddy voice. So, I start counting, and when I feel I have a pretty accurate guess, I say, "12?"
"Yep," she proudly says, as she dangles away. Josh coined her "the spiral notebook." What else are going to call a girl with 12 rings waiting there to bind paper together?
When she puts her hands on the floor and her feet over my shoulders, like she's doing a push up with her feet on the wall, I look past her and see my friends through the gap in the curtain that she didn't try hard to pull down at all. They are really enjoying every minute of this, me watching this behemoth of a woman shake her shit for me.
When the song was over I dropped a couple singles in her shoddy tip basket and returned to my friends, whose first question was, "Did you get a hard on?"
My response: "No, 0%, thanks a lot guys, you could have picked one of the handful of pretty attractive girls who aren't even close to 30."
But that wouldn't have been as fun for them.
The night concluded with the recap at The Dom and an unnecessary trip to Perkins.
For the Super Bowl our group, minus Antigo, came to Eau Claire to watch the game at our house. Jesse and I left the earliest so we could get back in time for me to make a crock pot full of Sloppy Joe's, or maybe since it was Super Bowl Sunday, Sloppy Montana's would be more appropriate.
Side note: Our house, my room especially, is so cold that I might have to take a break from writing this because my fingers are freezing. They are getting so cold that it is becoming hard to bend them. Good thing I don't have a girlfriend.
The Super Bowl:
Sloppy. If McNabb plays a good game, The Eagles win. Even in throwing for 350+ yards, he still threw some really horrible passes and seemed to be choking under the spotlight.
I won some bets during the game. I won the "Guy to score the first TD" bet and a few other in game bets. One of my MVP choices, Rodney Harrison, very well could have won that award, but you can't argue Branch getting it, even though if Harrison doesn't pick off two passes the Eagles win.
The Commercials:
Favorite: The cat and spaghetti one.
Overall: blah, fuck the FCC.
And this whole thing with FOX pulling the godaddy.com ad that was to run in the second half is just plain stupid.
America, HELP GET THE RELIGIOUS RIGHT OUT OF OFFICE! We'll all breathe easier then.
So that's that.
I found a few mistakes in the Sports Guy's Super Blog II, so I sent him this e-mail, we'll see if I can make a mailbag:
"Ok, I'm going to be your Stat Boy here and tell you about the mistakes you made in your Super Blog II.
Marissa and Alex have never kissed on The OC, as you said they have.
In your last pic from media day, you wrote in the caption that it was a "bird's eye view," however, the pic was taken at field level. A bird's eye view would have been from above.
About not winning an Oscar if the Wayans Brothers are in your movie... well, no one has, that I'm aware of, but, and I didn't have to look this up, I'm just a movie geek, Ellen Burstyn was nominated for her role in Requiem for a Dream, in which Marlon Wayans co-stars.
I also think your Coppola/Scorcese analogy for Parcells/Bellichick is flawed because Parcells doesn't have an Apocalypse Now! in his credentials, another stand out achievement. And, we'll see what happens now that Weis and Crennel are gone."
Until The Next Time.
You want to hear about what happened after the game, when we all came back to Wausau.
Here is the roster for the night's events:
The roommates: Will, Jesse, and Shane
Adam, Josh, and Nate, all East grads of 1997.
Scott and Cal - some Antigo compadres.
First we sat through a painfully long dinner at Green Mill during which all I wanted to do was get a pitcher of beer.
After the marathon dinner ended, we went to Pro Players, had a half dozen drinks, and watched Nate win 100 bucks from the Devil which is the blackjack machine.
Then we debated where we were going to go next. We knew it was either the default watering hole: The Dom - or it was the strip club: Grand Daddy's. We just didn't know what order it was going to be in. Some wanted to get more drunk before hitting up Grand Daddy's, some wanted to save the Dom for last so we could do a strip club rehash there over the night caps.
We decided on Grand Daddy's. We ran into a few high school friends, which was pretty much expected, then we all grabbed our drinks and a chair to take in some fine adult entertainment. About 20 minutes in to our visit, I feel my hair being pulled back and this woman says, "Come on, get up, let's go." I'm thinking to myself, "What the fuck is this, just let me sit and watch." Well that wasn't going to work, grabbed me and I reluctantly followed her around to the other side of the stage. On the way I see a group of my friends giggling in my direction and I know what they've done. They bought me a lap dance from the oldest, ugliest, biggest, holiest stripper I've ever seen in any of my strip club experiences. She was probably about 35, not attractive at all, on the thick side of things - the only thing she had going for her was that she had some pretty nice tits.
So she ushered me into a private booth, told me where to sit and where to keep my hands. She started her dance by stratling me and we talked about where we were from and shit like that... Then I noticed that she has quite a bit of jewelry dangling between her thighs. So, being the curious creature that I am, I ask, "How many piercings do you have?" She responds by standing, spreading her legs, slightly turning to the side and saying, "Count them," in a very giddy voice. So, I start counting, and when I feel I have a pretty accurate guess, I say, "12?"
"Yep," she proudly says, as she dangles away. Josh coined her "the spiral notebook." What else are going to call a girl with 12 rings waiting there to bind paper together?
When she puts her hands on the floor and her feet over my shoulders, like she's doing a push up with her feet on the wall, I look past her and see my friends through the gap in the curtain that she didn't try hard to pull down at all. They are really enjoying every minute of this, me watching this behemoth of a woman shake her shit for me.
When the song was over I dropped a couple singles in her shoddy tip basket and returned to my friends, whose first question was, "Did you get a hard on?"
My response: "No, 0%, thanks a lot guys, you could have picked one of the handful of pretty attractive girls who aren't even close to 30."
But that wouldn't have been as fun for them.
The night concluded with the recap at The Dom and an unnecessary trip to Perkins.
For the Super Bowl our group, minus Antigo, came to Eau Claire to watch the game at our house. Jesse and I left the earliest so we could get back in time for me to make a crock pot full of Sloppy Joe's, or maybe since it was Super Bowl Sunday, Sloppy Montana's would be more appropriate.
Side note: Our house, my room especially, is so cold that I might have to take a break from writing this because my fingers are freezing. They are getting so cold that it is becoming hard to bend them. Good thing I don't have a girlfriend.
The Super Bowl:
Sloppy. If McNabb plays a good game, The Eagles win. Even in throwing for 350+ yards, he still threw some really horrible passes and seemed to be choking under the spotlight.
I won some bets during the game. I won the "Guy to score the first TD" bet and a few other in game bets. One of my MVP choices, Rodney Harrison, very well could have won that award, but you can't argue Branch getting it, even though if Harrison doesn't pick off two passes the Eagles win.
The Commercials:
Favorite: The cat and spaghetti one.
Overall: blah, fuck the FCC.
And this whole thing with FOX pulling the godaddy.com ad that was to run in the second half is just plain stupid.
America, HELP GET THE RELIGIOUS RIGHT OUT OF OFFICE! We'll all breathe easier then.
So that's that.
I found a few mistakes in the Sports Guy's Super Blog II, so I sent him this e-mail, we'll see if I can make a mailbag:
"Ok, I'm going to be your Stat Boy here and tell you about the mistakes you made in your Super Blog II.
Marissa and Alex have never kissed on The OC, as you said they have.
In your last pic from media day, you wrote in the caption that it was a "bird's eye view," however, the pic was taken at field level. A bird's eye view would have been from above.
About not winning an Oscar if the Wayans Brothers are in your movie... well, no one has, that I'm aware of, but, and I didn't have to look this up, I'm just a movie geek, Ellen Burstyn was nominated for her role in Requiem for a Dream, in which Marlon Wayans co-stars.
I also think your Coppola/Scorcese analogy for Parcells/Bellichick is flawed because Parcells doesn't have an Apocalypse Now! in his credentials, another stand out achievement. And, we'll see what happens now that Weis and Crennel are gone."
Until The Next Time.
Comments:
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i was a sellout and went with brady. he had a good game, too, but cadillac was tired of giving him cars.
agreed about mcnabb. he'll be back though, and he'll be ready.
both of the ameriquest commericals were good (cat and sauce and getting robbed) but i think the fedex one with burt was better because it was basically a parody of itself.
oh, and ugly strippers suck.
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agreed about mcnabb. he'll be back though, and he'll be ready.
both of the ameriquest commericals were good (cat and sauce and getting robbed) but i think the fedex one with burt was better because it was basically a parody of itself.
oh, and ugly strippers suck.
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