Best/Worst Day of My Life
Okay, so this isn't technically the worst day of my life. But it's a pretty bad day. First of all, I've been drinking. Secondly, my NCAA Bracket is all fugged up. Okay, sure, all my Elite Eight are still alive, but I'm getting killed. Thanks Kansas, Syracuse, Oklahoma, Boston College, UAB. Thanks for nothing you bastards. I was hoping to really score some serious cash this year, but nnnnoooo... you bastards have no clue how to play basketball. Why don't you come to a Change O'Pacers' game sometime and learn the game. You queer bastards. (I have nothing wrong with queers, for the record.)
PJ Kuno is standing behind me right now. He just said, "Goddamn the fucking 'Cuse! FUCK!" They lost last night, yet Sailor Man's passion for SU runs so deep that he once cut up all his SU gear with scissors when they lost a game to #15 Richmond in the 1991 NCAA Tournament. Sailor Man's passion runs deep.
Not to mention that I believe my uvula is, again, in jeopardy. I drank some Busch. I knew what I was doing. We ordered a pitcher at the Block House, they told me it was Busch. My brother had once had a problem with Busch; it made his uvula swell up to about 4x it's size. I'm no biologist, but my brother and I probably have similar DNA, which would indicate we probably have the same adverse reaction to the same beers. There is some wheat-processing that we have problems with. I can feel my throat closing up, but not too bad. I am trying to find a place to get some Benadryl. I already got some KFC, so that part of the to-do list has been checked off.
Why is this the best/worst weekend ever? It's a classic over-bloat. We have been drinking much more beer than necessary, yet not driving anywhere. We have eaten far too much, yet I am not full. We went to the Schenectady Block Party, yet we are probably going back. Javen gave us an oral history of the Schenectady Stockade area, yet I feel that I have learned nothing. Here's what I have learned:
PJ is very bitter about Syracuse. He has said the phrase "Overblog my dick" several times, which would indicate to me that he hates the entire blogging philosophy. PJ bought our lunch at Slick's, which was unexpected and extraordinary.
Thomas Craig O'Connor is a fun bastard. He and I have promised to end every sentence we utter with the word "Buddy" or "B."
Dunford may also be allergic to Busch since I watched his head turn a blotchy red color I have never seen before.
Will hates Boston College, though he is from the Boston area (Hanson, MA). He loves the Sox and Pats, yet hates BC, which just jacked his ACC-hating ass up many many cool points in my book.
Javen is a good host. He has had every possible game on, yet we have spent only about half our time at the cribsite. He brought us to Slick's today, and if you haven't heard, Slick's (in Schenectady) has the largest sandwiches I've ever seen. They only use Wonder Bread, but there is at least a pound of meat (and I mean this literally) on each sandwich. It is delightful!
Toastie is between jobs, but got fucked over by one of them. Toastie's former employers can kiss my ass. If Toastie's former employer ever is in a situation where they need a several hundred thousand dollar grant from me, I will string them along thinking they will get it and then I will call them at 11:00 at night and tell them I won't get it. DANG! That's cooollllld bloooo-ooded!
If I die before the sun comes up, I leave my iPod to Willie. I leave my collection of doilies to Toastie. I leave my DVD collection to Rage. I leave my CD collection to Javen, but not the rap part. That part I leave to Mike Cialini. I leave my rock-hard ass to myself. I have worked many years sitting on my ass to get it, so why shouldn't I bear the fruits.
I miss Jitter and I wish he was in the United States... but not necessarily in the State of New York. I think things would be much more chaotic with him here.
I'm drunk and goddammit I hope I live until dawn.
PJ Kuno is standing behind me right now. He just said, "Goddamn the fucking 'Cuse! FUCK!" They lost last night, yet Sailor Man's passion for SU runs so deep that he once cut up all his SU gear with scissors when they lost a game to #15 Richmond in the 1991 NCAA Tournament. Sailor Man's passion runs deep.
Not to mention that I believe my uvula is, again, in jeopardy. I drank some Busch. I knew what I was doing. We ordered a pitcher at the Block House, they told me it was Busch. My brother had once had a problem with Busch; it made his uvula swell up to about 4x it's size. I'm no biologist, but my brother and I probably have similar DNA, which would indicate we probably have the same adverse reaction to the same beers. There is some wheat-processing that we have problems with. I can feel my throat closing up, but not too bad. I am trying to find a place to get some Benadryl. I already got some KFC, so that part of the to-do list has been checked off.
Why is this the best/worst weekend ever? It's a classic over-bloat. We have been drinking much more beer than necessary, yet not driving anywhere. We have eaten far too much, yet I am not full. We went to the Schenectady Block Party, yet we are probably going back. Javen gave us an oral history of the Schenectady Stockade area, yet I feel that I have learned nothing. Here's what I have learned:
PJ is very bitter about Syracuse. He has said the phrase "Overblog my dick" several times, which would indicate to me that he hates the entire blogging philosophy. PJ bought our lunch at Slick's, which was unexpected and extraordinary.
Thomas Craig O'Connor is a fun bastard. He and I have promised to end every sentence we utter with the word "Buddy" or "B."
Dunford may also be allergic to Busch since I watched his head turn a blotchy red color I have never seen before.
Will hates Boston College, though he is from the Boston area (Hanson, MA). He loves the Sox and Pats, yet hates BC, which just jacked his ACC-hating ass up many many cool points in my book.
Javen is a good host. He has had every possible game on, yet we have spent only about half our time at the cribsite. He brought us to Slick's today, and if you haven't heard, Slick's (in Schenectady) has the largest sandwiches I've ever seen. They only use Wonder Bread, but there is at least a pound of meat (and I mean this literally) on each sandwich. It is delightful!
Toastie is between jobs, but got fucked over by one of them. Toastie's former employers can kiss my ass. If Toastie's former employer ever is in a situation where they need a several hundred thousand dollar grant from me, I will string them along thinking they will get it and then I will call them at 11:00 at night and tell them I won't get it. DANG! That's cooollllld bloooo-ooded!
If I die before the sun comes up, I leave my iPod to Willie. I leave my collection of doilies to Toastie. I leave my DVD collection to Rage. I leave my CD collection to Javen, but not the rap part. That part I leave to Mike Cialini. I leave my rock-hard ass to myself. I have worked many years sitting on my ass to get it, so why shouldn't I bear the fruits.
I miss Jitter and I wish he was in the United States... but not necessarily in the State of New York. I think things would be much more chaotic with him here.
I'm drunk and goddammit I hope I live until dawn.
posted by Unknown at 5:02 PM
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