Friday, November 13, 2009
OK, so I owe a deep apology to all of you who I told to bet on the RedHawks last night. I was not counting on our QB playing like a freshman (5 turnovers) against a terrible defense. And this poor advice probably got a poor guy and his family killed. They call it gambling for a fucking reason. I don't really care about that though. I've got big things brewing tonight. For after work, the caravan is heading up to Findlay on a lovely booze cruise to take in some high school football playoff action. I plan on drinking on the way up, during the game, and on the drive back. High school football is normally about the worst thing ever but it is OUTSTANDING when you are drunk. The Crown Royal has already been purchased. The last time I drank that, I left a nice present for the maid in the hotel sink. Here's to hoping that I vomit all over Naptown Wolverine tonight. Napoleon/Bishop Watterson...should be a bloodbath not in our favor but who cares...I'm going to be plowed anyway.
Speaking of getting drunk, it's high time that I shared a classic tale with all of you in which you will find me to be a genius and an asshole and maybe a tender lover all at the same time.
So, it's probably 2002 and a group of us got some cheapo tickets to see John Cougar Mellencamp at what used to be known as Polaris Amphitheatre. I had already seen the Coug before in Oxford and he puts on a great show. Not that night however. It was uninspiring. Actually, it sucked. At least on that night, it was not ouuuuuuuuuuuuuur countryyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Anyway, we get to the parking lot early to "tailgate". By tailgate, I mean, standing on concrete while 4 guys trying to kill a case before it gets warm in the July sun. It's probably about 45 minutes before the opening shitty act went on so the lot is filling up. We did not care as seeing the opening band is amateur shit. Across the parking lot aisle, some asshole frat boys roll up in a Jeep Wrangler (the official car of assholes) and are being all loud and whatnot. I'm watching them the whole time debating whether or not the 4 of us could kick the shit out of the 5 of them (we would have had no chance).
So the d-bags head on in while we are still by our car. However, I saw them slide a cooler under the Jeep. After a few minutes, I get an idea. I go over and investigate because our tailgate has two problems: we're running low on beer and what we have is getting warm. I open the cooler and it's a fucking jackpot. About 12-15 ice cold beauties just begging to be drank. So, I grab them all in one trip and take them back for the boys. But it's not over. Not by a long shot.
I rounded up all of our empties, took them over to the Jeep, and refilled the cooler with our dead soldiers. The rest of the tailgreat is really digging my dickheadery, but not even that was the last of it. G$ doesn't fucking roll that way. I take a few steps back toward our car when a revelation hits me. I go back to the cooler, open it up, and unleash a 2 minute piss into that thing. And this wasn't one of those watery drunk pisses either. This was a stream of golden goodness that stained that cooler for all of eternity. It was amazing.
The show ends. Traffic always sucks balls so we pull out some lukewarm beers and have a postgate after the concert while things thin out. The dbags return to their rape-mobile.
DB #1: Alright, brah, the cooler is still here!
DB #2: I hope there are still some beers in there, broseph!
DB #3: (swishing his hands around in my piss) Fuck, it's just a bunch of empties.
Our group laughed for about the next hour. Those fucking elephant-walkers still probably have my piss stench on their hands. And that makes me feel good. Thanks for the beers, BRAH!!! Your welcome for the urine!
I hope you enjoyed that little tale which did nothing more than prove I'm even more awesome than you thought. GO CATS!!!