Who's Next? And Other Stuff

At long last, the long national nightmare that was Jeff Suppan being part of the Brewer's roster is over.

I haven't been this excited about a roster move since we were cured of our Yost Infection a few years back. This was long, long overdue, and the delay seems to be more of a product of Soup being a nice guy than a person who throws baseballs. As my high school football coach once said, "You might be a helluva guy, but you're not much of a football player." Whatever, he will take home more than ten million more dollars, partially due to the inconceivable club option AFTER the four years are up, where the Crew has to pay $2 million MORE next year to buy him out. I just got a nice spot on the sidelines and bruises from holding tackling dummies.

The important thing to take away from this is. Who's Next? Who shall take the mantle from Jeff Suppan as my least favorite Brewer? Who shall I bitch about incessantly until he is gone? This is sort of tough. Most of the guys left are sort of likable, and even if they suck (Hoffman) it is hard to hate on them. I guess I will lean towards Macha because he makes some mind bending decisions at times (see letting Parra pitch 2 innings the day before he was supposed to start a few weeks back at Minnesota, and then having to call up your third choice from AAA due to travel issues; also see randomly bringing in Dave Bush to throw to one batter last night, and then pulling him after striking the guy out, which I should add worked, but was really dumb), and isn't all that likable. Even when he says "poppycock". To be determined I guess.

OTHER STUFF

-I thoroughly enjoyed the NBA Finals/Stanley Cup Finals/Brewer game going three way head to head last night. The Stanley Cup was the only game not that close. The NBA series has been almost wildly entertaining.

-The plot thickens on Brandon Underwood's case. Crusin' Chubby's fine name is now linked. I'm sure that two thirty something females met at a strip club from Milwaukee at some time between 2 and 4 am were just innocent, sober patrons. Vegas has just put 1 to 4 odds on these females being "entertainers". As an aside, this doesn't mean there wasn't a sexual assault. Perhaps something illegal did happen. And if it did, then Underwood is a piece of shit. I just tend to side with the NFL player in these cases because I cannot recall a famous athlete ever being convicted of sexual assault, even though many have been accused. Finally, let me point out that I am SHOCKED that at least 7 NFL players in their 20's were in Wisconsin Dells and went to Crusin' Chubby's. Who does that?

-I'm probably going to watch U.S.-England on Saturday from start to finish, and I may even blog about it. I think I would put the total number of soccer games I have watched from start to finish in my lifetime at ZERO. ESPN has finally brainwashed me.

-Finally, this article is a must read. And I'm totally going to order that book when it comes out. As far as you know, I didn't ghostwrite the entire article. As far as you know. For some reason I look forward to four 16 team conferences. Although that just means less automatic bids to the Get Together.

"They Are Watching Us"

I have somehow managed to survive weekend number 4 in the 4 weekend drinking marathon that has become my life in August 2009. Wisconsin Dells was a pretty cool fucking place to get drunk. The drunk bus that took us around free of charge was a fantastic touch as well. I managed to stay within budget somehow, and not get divorced in the process, which is a plus.

The only complaint I had about the weekend was the Nazi golf rangers that stalked us for the first three holes at the course we golfed at on Saturday. Perhaps it was that Richard and I were like 20 minutes late for our tee time. Perhaps it was that even though we were late, and the ranger was staring at us in disgust, we took the time to shove a case of beer into our golf bags right in front of him. Perhaps it is that we clearly sucked at golf. Whatever it was, it was annoying. Soon they went away, and a everyone got drunk. The round culminated in a sudden death playoff with another team after we choked away a one stroke lead on 18 in our best ball tourney. After we both birdied 18 (and ruined a wedding in the process) was lost on some bullshit putt off. Good thing we never paid up on the bet we lost.

So back to this wedding. Some moron (probably a FIB because there were somewhere in the neighborhood of 200,000 of them in the Dells this weekend. Why do they insist on coming to fucking Wisconsin?) decided it was a good idea to have an outdoor, Saturday afternoon wedding at a golf course, a mere 200 feet from the 18th green. As we are coming down the fairway on 18, we could hear vows being exchanged. Then someone (I think Sports Bottle) shafted one very near the crowd assembled at the wedding, and someone else knocked one off the bar and grill that was right past the wedding. We found the ball I would guess about 150 yds past the bride and groom, who were STILL giving their vows. These were seriously the longest vows ever. Then Sports Bottle hits a ridiculous shot from 75 yards out off this hill right next to the wedding, to get withing 5 feet or so of the hole, and leaving the team with a birdie putt. About 10 people screamed when he plunked the shot on the green (still vows happening). Some douche in a tux comes over and yells at me that "There is a wedding going over hear if you didn't notice. Do you mind?" My response should have been, "well there is a fucking golf match going on here, so can you keep that shit down over there? I'm trying to putt." But I didn't because I am a huge vagina. But it really took some fucking nerve to take that ridiculous position.

After golf, we went back to the hotel, ate, got more drunk, watched the Packers dismantle the Bills, and headed out to the bars/Crusin' Chubby's (which gets high marks). I don't honestly remember a whole helluva lot from the bars. Or afterwards. Schmock was forced to wear red suit pants and a leather vest. He insisted on wearing a t-shirt underneath.

All I know is that the room was fucking trashed in the morning, and if someone doesn't get a bill out of this, I would be shocked. I'm going on a limb and saying it was the worst shape I've ever seen a hotel room in. I was huddled next to the cum stained wall (I don't believe any of us came on the wall, but it is a hotel room, so there is dried up semen everywhere) on the floor, on top of my hat, on top of someones backpack, with my shoes on, and someone else's pillow. The bathroom was covered in vomit backsplash and vomit soaked towels. There was probably an inch of shit on the floor from various chips and crackers. Outside, there was a pile of hotel issued blankets, sheets and pillows covered in vomit. Also outside our room: one wet sleeping bag (which may have been wet with vomit or urine), about three tipped over coolers, a whole bunch of empty cans and bottles and shot glasses. Oh, and there was a hookers' severed leg shoved behind the TV (I couldn't find the rest of her).

The ride home yesterday sucked. And just because you had a bachelor party, doesn't mean you have to get married.

Dells Debut

So tomorrow is going to mark the fourth consecutive Saturday that I get black out drunk. For a man my age, with a real job, and a house, and a wife (thank (Sports Bottle's) god no fucking kids), it is an impressive feat. Very difficult to do, especially since it was probably around 2003 the last time it happened.

Yes friends, this weekend is Schmock's bachelor party. It is taking place in Wisconsin Dells. I have never been drunk in Wisconsin Dells, which makes it one of the few "major" destinations in Wisconsin that I have not been intoxicated in. In fact, it has probably been about 15 years since I've been there at all. And every trip involved just going to a waterpark and going home. It is, after all, the waterpark capital of the world. So I will get drunk in Wisconsin Dells, which is nice. I imagine the party to fall somewhere in between falling asleep cuddling Worm at 8 p.m., and paying prostitutes to do a group golden shower on Schmock. The possibilities are endless.

I really have no idea what to expect, because I have never been there before. Each city in Wisconsin has its own ebbs and flows to drinking. They are hard to describe, and generally if you are good at it, you end up blacked out regardless, but if you have spent significant time drinking in various Wisconsin hamlets, you understand what I mean.

I'm not really sure what my point is other than that I'm getting up at like 5:30 am tomorrow, to drive to a strange town to drink all day.

VEGAS UPDATE

The shit is on bitches. Sports Bottle, Richard, a bunch of strange homosexual men and I are headed to Vegas in late October. I intentionally spent an extra $45 on a plane ticket so I could a) drive an extra 3 hours, b) get zero sleep on Monday morning, c) start drinking at 9 a.m. on a Thursday, and d) join the mile high club with Sports Bottle. Now that the tickets were finally booked, and if you haven't done it in a while, is super motherfucking stressful and time consuming, I can get back to blogging instead of working as opposed to checking plane ticket prices and not working.

PS. Plenty of space available on the gayest Vegas trip ever. And yes, I'm talking to you Twinkie.

BREW CREW HANGOVER

Hey, they didn't lose last night. And the pitching staff didn't give up any home runs. Too bad the mighty Washington Nationals are up next. The funny thing is, as bad as the Crew has been, Braun and Fielder have been carrying my fantasy team. Oh, and I haven't watched a whole game in like 2 weeks, and it has been not stressful.

NEW BLOG

unkownqbdiary.blogspot.com had a pretty good first, and likely last post. I agree with much of it, except that He Who Shall Not Be Named is definitely to blame. And I wish bodily harm on him. Or at least bags of bodily fluids. His "fans" are fucking annoying as shit. (EDITORS NOTE: Did you realize you fucking spelled "UNKNOWN" wrong in the title of your blog? UnKOWN is going to make it difficult to find my man.)

"Just The Tip"

Well, I'm back at work this morning. And I'm just going to go ahead and say that I'm not all that happy to be here. I continue my streak of drinking coffee on a Monday morning after a long weekend of drinking, and regretting it. I sincerely wish I could just take Monday's after long drinking weekends off. But if I did that this month, I would only work like 8 days, which is probably unacceptable to the people that pay me.

ANYWAYS, successful weekend overall. Highlights included:

-Discussing how my friends and I never, ever see each other and not get completely fucking shitfaced. Ever.

-Continuing the streak of needlessly stretching these things out for two nights, and then starting by noon on the second day, just prove that we aren't old yet.

-A surprising number of discussions about kids, landscaping, cleaning and other old person shit, even though only one person has a kid.

-A chip in for par on the third hole by me.

-Open and blatant carrying on of alcoholic beverages to the golf course.

-Mark and I beating "Michael Jackson's Moonwalker", "The Simpsons" and "Double Dragon" on his sweet ass arcade machine.

-Open and obvious drunk driving by a relative of the bachelor, despite the fact that there was plenty of room in the cabs.

-An unattractive waitress muttering the following two things to Sports Bottle: "Surprise, Surprise, right in my eyes." and "Wanna play just the tip later?" Both statements were unwelcome (probably) and completely out of the blue.

-The pregnant bartender at Champion's Sports Bar.

-First trip to the Oval Office "Gentleman's Club"

-(story redacted) at the Oval Office "Gentleman's Club"

-Stiffing the "bathroom attendant" at the Oval Office. I refused to fucking pay to have someone turn on the sink for me. It isn't that difficult. Even though I was retarded drunk.

-A bunch of stuff happening at Cock & Bull which I don't remember.

-The chick fight at that other bar.

-Mark and Richard dancing their fucking asses off.

-Rest of the night was a blur. Remember playing golden tee, but don't know if I finished. Remember eating like two whole pizzas. I allegedly was dragged off of an air mattress onto a cement floor and I didn't even react. Woke up feeling like I was going to die. The End.

PS. Lets do this shit all over again this Friday and Saturday. Anyone? The 4th annual Orenthal James Simpson Football Association draft is sometime on Saturday. The dominance shall continue.