This weekend was going to be a weekend to rest a little, lay on the couch, perhaps do some yard work that I've ignored for about four weeks now, go on a date with my wife or some shit, etc. But I got tickets to my first Badger game ever this weekend for $20, so I had to go.
You may be wondering "Juice, you seem like a pretty big sports fan, I'm shocked you've never been to a Badger game". I would agree, it is strange. I guess it is the fact that I grew up around Green Bay, and my parents didn't have any money really, so we just never got down there. What is also odd is that I've been to 24 Packer games since my first one in 1988, and those tickets are twice as much, and probably slightly harder to come by. We've just always known random people that were able to hook us up with tickets, and never knew anyone that had Badger tickets.
ANYWAYS, the wife and I are headed down at the asscrack of dawn Saturday due to the 11 a.m. kickoff (which is way to fucking early). I'm little stressed because I don't know my way around all that well, and as there is with Green Bay, there are special tricks for traffic/parking that exist on gamedays that I'm not aware of. I'm sure it will be fine. My wife is already pissed that I'm making her leave at 6 a.m. I just want to make sure I have time to soak it all in, and drink as much as possible before 11 a.m. because of the asinine non-drinking rule at Camp Randall.
Also, many may ask "Holy shit, you are going down to Madison on Halloween???? Where are you staying?" The answer is that somewhere around age 25, the thought of being tear gassed (this allegedly happened to my brother once) stopped sounding good to me. And really, I've only got a weekend or so a year of tolerance for getting all sweaty and standing shoulder to shoulder with other drunken assholes to get warm beer. And that weekend is Oktoberfest for me. I just hope to see some random slutty nurses, or slutty cats, or slutty devils or slutty witches or something. Wisconsin 34, Purdue 20.
Quick NFL Picks: Den (+3.5), NYJ (-3.5), Ind (-11.5), Det (-4.5), Dal (-9.5), Chi (-13.5), Hou (-3.5), Phi (+1), SD (-16.5), GB (-3), Ari (-10), Atl (+10)
Remember on Sunday Packer fans: 1) boo the Vikings hard, and that means EVERYONE; 2) bags of piss; 3) Cheer the Pack LOUD
Showing posts with label sluts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sluts. Show all posts
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I Wish I Was 18 Again (and other stuff)
It has come to my attention that college is starting back up again. Man, do I fucking miss college. Not the class part, or the having no money part (although somehow I had more back then when I made $7.00/hr 10 hours a week), but the getting totally fucked up and having no responsibilities other than not killing yourself part. College was certainly at its best once everyone was 21, but I still remember that first day at UW-La Crosse like it was yesterday. The warm weather, getting dizzy from trying to look at all the strange, hot chicks that I would never, ever have sexual relations with, and of course, the getting totally fucked up at some random house on Red Dog and Icehouse. I'm pretty sure it was some frat party, which caused me right then and there, to hate fucking frats. But I remember meeting a bunch of dudes that I'm still friends with to this day (including SportsBottle and Schmock) and borrowing money to some random guy who was hanging out with them (Jay). All of this is semi-relived each September at Oktoberfest (23 days!!), but nothing can replace the sheer mental overload of that first day.
RANDOM FANTASY NOTE
I'm involved in a fantasy football league with acmepackingcompany.com, which is a Packer blog. Winner gets a t-shirt. It is a 12 team league, and somehow I like my team alot better than my OJSFA team. Yet my draft strategy backfired again when I ended up with T.O. and Roy Williams as my starting WRs (both of whom I loved...in 2003). I did get far more depth, so I should be fine. Draft #3 coming on Sunday night, where I'm thinking of experimenting and going autodraft to see what happens.
RANDOM FANTASY NOTE
I'm involved in a fantasy football league with acmepackingcompany.com, which is a Packer blog. Winner gets a t-shirt. It is a 12 team league, and somehow I like my team alot better than my OJSFA team. Yet my draft strategy backfired again when I ended up with T.O. and Roy Williams as my starting WRs (both of whom I loved...in 2003). I did get far more depth, so I should be fine. Draft #3 coming on Sunday night, where I'm thinking of experimenting and going autodraft to see what happens.
Monday, August 24, 2009
"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.
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.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
So You're Saying There's a Chance!?!
The Hebrew Hammer turned down a chance to hammer a bunch of random sluts on TV. It's probably much better to have been invited and turned down the chance to have America realize that baseball players aren't that bright (I have no actual knowledge of if he is bright or not). It shows you are a semi-celebrity, and aren't so full of yourself that you need to be on TV. Plus, he already has hoes in different area codes, so he probably doesn't need any desperate to marry him. He just has to deal with the ones poking holes in this condoms (assuming he actually uses such a thing). This story just made Susuan Sarandon do a silent fist pump.
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