My First 5K

What follows here is the recollection of the first time I ran a 5K, but this story does not begin with the 5K. This story begins the night before, where it was officially discovered that I am either A#1: Blind or B#2: Stupid. Hopefully it's A#1.

So it's Thursday night, and we both know what that means: Back to Coco's. Before Coco's John invited some people over to his house to have some steak. I'm certainly not gonna say no to a free meal, especially if it's a juicy chunk of meet. Let me tell you, John makes a mean steak. I needed something to wash down the deliciousness so when I went inside my inner Wisconsin came out and I sniffed out the MGD in the fridge. So good. This was not enough to satiate me, however. John suggested that I make myself a drink. I found his gin, which as you all know is my poison of choice. John does not have any mixers for gin though. No tonic. No sprite. Just gin. So I improvised with some fruit punch...Gatorade. This way I could revitalize my electrolytes while I drink. I'm really smart. Eventually we leave for Coco's to meet up with Scott and Jacki. The problem with Covington is that there is not much available parking at night. This is the first butterfly wing flap that resulted in a disastrous night. John is driving and decides that it would be a good idea to park in a blind parking lot by Molly Malone's. So we get out of the car and walk down an alley to get to the street. John, Crotch and Matt run across the street in front of a bus. I decide to wait and not endanger my life. Butterfly wing flap #2. After the bus passes those 3 are far ahead of me so I need to run to catch up. I wasn't running full out, but I was going pretty fast. Now across from Molly Malone's is a parking lot that is chained off. This is where I was running to. The stars must have been aligned against me that night because I was running at the perfect speed, at the perfect angle, in the perfect light, to run straight into one of the chains blocking off the parking lot. I hit the chain and fall forward, luckily catching myself with my hands and elbow. I immediately get up and continue running, but not to catch up to the guys, but to get away from the 30 people standing outside Molly Malone's that could have potentially seen me be an idiot. My legs are killing me because I hit the chain so hard. Luckily though the chain was higher than most of the chains and it hit me in the thighs. If the chain had been below knee level I probably would have died. I'm bleeding profusely from my right elbow and right shin but the night must go on. A few drinks must be had in order to dull the pain. There was not much more to the night. This was just the setup to the 5K anyway.

When I got up Friday morning I could barely walk. I was the definition of gimp. I was wincing in pain just walking down the steps of my apartment complex. I didn't know how I was going to complete a 5k, I just knew that I was still going to attempt it. At work the most pain I was in when I would try to sit down or stand up. For this reason I rarely got out of my chair. When I got home from work I literally walked around inside my apartment to try and work out the pain. I stretched more than I did when I was playing varsity tennis in high school. Still, though I could now walk with only a slight limp, I was still in a lot of pain. Rosie texted me that I should drink a lot of water before the race. I drank a liter of water in about an hour. I can't remember the last time I drank that much water. It was the first time that I can remember that I actually pissed clear. It was weird and I didn't like it.

So Rosie picks me up from my apartment and I show her the damage that the chain/ground did to me and she is impressed. The bruising is kinda hard to see since my legs are so hairy but the scrapes up and down my thigh were clearly visible and bad. We pick up Ben and go downtown for the race. For some reason we park like 8 blocks away from where the race is starting. Just what I need. We check in and get our shirts and our time chips. Apparently even though I've never done this before I'm the only one who realizes you can tuck the strands holding the time ship under your shoe laces so they don't stick out. Everybody goes to the starting line and the gun goes off for the start. Everyone not in the front starts off slow until the pack thins out. I take this time to run behind Rosie and make fun of the way she runs. You should watch her run sometime. It's hilarious. Ben takes off from us but I run with Rosie for a little while longer. Eventually I make my move to actually run. Mind you, every single stride I take hurts like a bitch. I keep up my pace for about 8 minutes until we reach the first hill. Running uphill sucks. I make it like 1 minute on the hill before I have to stop and walk. Not only am I tired as shit but my legs burn from the pain. I end up walking for like the next 3 minutes until I feel something hit me in the but. Rosie had caught up to me. I tell her that I decided to wait for her. She believes me. I jog with her for a little while until we reach an even steeper hill. FML. We ran until the turn around and then walked a little more. More jogging. More pain. The only relief was that the guy running ahead of us got a face full of water from one of the volunteers. That and the Q102 van playing "Untouched" by The Veronicas. After about 3 minutes of jogging I need to walk again. I really feel stupid for runing into that chain. We walk until we're about 1/2 kilometer from the finish. We run the rest of the way and cross the finish line in 32 minutes and change. I round it off to 33 minutes because it's more symmetrical that way. That's about an 11-minute mile pace with no training and bum legs. Not bad I say. Afterwards we get free beer tickets because that's really the only way to get people to do this. It only takes two for me to get drunk, which is less than usual, but not by much...The rest of the night is filled with "who the hell sang that" and conversation on the viability of long distance relationships. For some reason I was the only one saying that they don't work out. If Deb Morgan were there she'd agree with me.

When it was all said and done I passed out at 11 on a Friday night. But I'm glad that I actually did something useful with my life instead of the usual going out and getting blasted and waking up in pain the next day. Oh wait...

Why The Irish Aren't That Great

I guess it is up to The Daily Grind to continue this blog war and explain to all the good people out there that the Irish have done only one good thing in their entire history--invent Lucky Charms cereal.

Let's start off with most people's perception of the Irish: Pasty drunkards. This is not a stereotype, this is fact. Think of the most Irish person you know. For me this is my friend Erin. Submitted for your approval:

Ghost white skin? Check

Glossed over look of intoxication? Check

A sense of unearned entitlement? Check

These are the characteristics that define the Irish.

Now let's look at the famous people that Ireland has given us:

Quick: Think of the most self-righteous, pretentious, overrated musician on the planet. Who did you come up with?

If you said Bono then you are correct!

Now before that blowhard Bono came along the most famous musician out of Ireland was Sinead O'Connor. What did she contribute to society? Her best song was a remake of a Prince song, so at least she had the good sense to take a great musician's song, but anybody could do that song and make it great. It's a great song no matter who sings it. What do people remember her the most for? How about her SNL tirade against the pope where she ripped up a picture of him on live TV. When your country is 88% Roman Catholic and your most famous export goes on one of the most popular shows on the planet and debases your people's icon, you know your country is fucked.

Padraig Harrington

You know you come from a sad sack country when your most prestigious "athlete" is a golfer. Let's take a look at Harrington's 3 major wins. 2007 British Open (The Sergio Factor), 2008 British Open (No Tiger), 2008 US Open (No Tiger).

The 2007 British Open was a classic case of choke by one of the all time golf chokers, Sergio Garcia. Sergio had a 3 stroke leading going into the final round, but that was over Steve Stricker. He had a commanding 6 stroke lead over Padraig. No one blows that big of a lead on the final day without it being a choke. Granted, Harrington shot a pretty good 4-under, but Sergio shot 2-over, not exactly what I would call championship caliber. Harrington put on his best Van de Velde impression and posted a double on the final hole, making it so Garcia only had to par the final hole to win. But you can't outchoke a choker and Garcia missed a 10-footer. In the 4 hole playoff Harrington wasn't impressive, shooting even par, but Garica was in his usual form and posted a +1 to throw away the Claret Jug.

Both of Harrington's 2008 wins came when Tiger Woods was not competing because he was recuperating from knee surgery. No Tiger means that it's not even a real tournament nowadays.

Cian O'Connor

You may not recognize this name, but it's ok, because no one except his mother knows who he is. But he is in fact the last Irish person to win an Olympic medal. He is the most recent of 10 medal winners. Only 10 people in the entire history of Ireland in the Olympics have won a medal. How pathetic is that? Even more embarrassing is that this latest gold medal was in show jumping. This is an event where you ride a horse and it jumps over rails. I put it up there in the category of rhythmic gymnastics and badminton. It's not a real sport. Worse yet, O'Connor was later stripped of his gold medal because his horse tested positive for an illegal substance. I don't know how effeminate you have to be to dedicate your life to show jumping, but it's probably more pathetic that you cheat at it.

In fact, the best thing to come out of Ireland was probably Kathy Ireland...oh wait.

St. Patrick's Day

Now let's talk about this waste of a holiday. It's basically an excuse for Irish people to wear green and get drunk. No one actually celebrates St. Patrick, people just celebrate St. Guinness.Now I'm all for having a good time and getting wasted, but you don't need a special day to do it. If the days ends in -y that's a good enough reason for me to drink. And the fact that non-Irish people act like they fucking own this holiday just means that the Irish don't have the self respect to defend their national holiday from foreign invaders. I bet that 9 out of 10 Irish-Americans can't even name what St. Patrick did in Ireland to become so famous.

The true worth of the Irish was best put into word by Bill the Butcher in Gangs of New York: "On the seventh day the Lord rested, but before that he did, he squatted over the side of England and what came out of him... was Ireland"

The Daily Grind Hot 5

Now I may not have sat down and wasted my time by picking out 111 girls to rate based on hotness as The Lush Life Chronicles did, but I do have a top 5 that I keep in my head to rattle off if ever I am asked.

#5

Scarlett Johansson

He's Just Not That Into You, Match Point, Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Scarlett Johannson is a fine actress with an incredible body. Not only does she look good thin as in Match Point, but even as she added a few pounds in some key areas as in He's Just Not That Into You she still is very boneable and I just have to say that Ryan Reynolds is a lucky, lucky man.

#4

Olivia Wilde

House M.D., The Year One, The O.C.

She is smoking hot, and I'm not the only one who thinks so. Olivia just placed #1 on Maxim's yearly Hot 100 list. Also going for her is her character Thirteen on House is bisexual and she had some great scenes featuring another woman in season 5. Much hotter than Jennifer Morrison.

#3

Jennifer Garner

Alias, Elektra, Juno

Yes, my former #1 hottie has slipped a bit, losing a lot of hot points for marrying Ben Affleck, but she is still incredibly beautiful and she starred in the greatest TV series ever. After a bit of time out of the spotlight she came back strong in Juno and looks to follow it up with The Invention of Lying. Cue Back in Black.

#2

Kate Beckinsale

Underworld, Click, Vacancy

A classic beauty from the other side of the pond, her British accent only makes her more irresistible. Add in the fact that I was on her for the whole looking hot as a vampire thing before Twilight was even a twinkle in Stephenie Meyer's eye. She even looked good in old lady makeup in Click. That just tells you that she'll be doable for a long time to come.

#1

Kristen Bell

Veronica Mars, Heroes, Couples Retreat

OK, Ray and I actually agree on this one, which is scary because we have completely different taste in women, but Kristen is a stunner. Amazing actress, great body, great face, great hair, great mind. A role in the movie Fanboys only raises her hot quotient. It's just a shame that VM got cancelled and she got killed off in Heroes. I need more Kristen on my TV!

The Wedding Date

My apologies to all the followers out there. I thought I had posted this last weekend but apparently had only saved it in order to add pictures.



This day began at 9 AM after successfully recovering from the events of the previous night. Normally after a night of heavy drinking I pass out, wake up around 9 and putz around for a couple hours, then go back to bed and wake up good to go. I could not do that today because I had to do laundry before it was time to go to the wedding. I was the date of Miss Surly Erin Swietlik and the ceremony commenced promptly at 2. I putz around, do my laundry, eat a sandwich, yada yada yada, we're off to the ceremony.



The ceremony took place at Bellarmine Chapel on Xavier's campus, fittingly because the couple getting married were both recent Xavier graduates. Erin was their boss at the phonathon and so it was a difficult decision as to which side of the church we would sit on. The usher directed us to the bride's side because we fit in better there. More on that later. Back to the fact that this was in a church. The last time I was in a church was probably Christmas, and I feared I would burst into flames upon crossing the threshold. Thankfully I did not spontaneously combust as I entered. Score another one for the sinners. OK, ceremony time. It's your typical Catholic ceremony complete with joyous songs, the eating of stale bread and the giving of peace. About 10 minutes in my mind goes into wander mode because there's a lot of praying and singing going on, and I only do that when it's Madonna. So I glance down to the floor and notice that Erin has painted her toenails. I ask her if she remembered to paint all 10 of them this time because last time I saw her with her toenails painted she only had 9 of them painted. She says it's because the paint chipped off, but you and I both know that Erin was never very good with numbers and probably forgot how many toes she had. Erin did not like this comment and said she was gonna punch me in the face. This was the first of I think 6 times that she said this to me. Aren't we great together? Anyways, after that we both turned our focus to Amanda and her boyfriend who were sitting on the other side of the church. We both noticed that their hair color looks incredibly similar and we wondered if they went to the same salon to get their hair done. Especially Eric. I think his name was Eric. I was too distracted by the blond locks to pay attention when he was introduced to me. Eric is from Connecticut but looks like he's straight out of Malibu Beach. He looks like Ryan Hansen of Veronica Mars fame, though not as good looking and with shorter hair. He even made the decision to wear these obnoxious white sunglasses on his head throughout the entire ceremony. Many things were pondered about him. Did he have a surfboard back in his car? Was he a time traveler from the 80s? Things we may never find out. The Homily consisted of strange references to reading scripture in bed and the game of Life. Long, drawn out metaphors comparing real life and the game of Life were made. Everything from the pink peg and the blue peg shacking up together in the same car to arriving at Countryside Estates. I may never play the game of Life again because of this wedding. Thanks a lot.


When it came time for the Eucharist we both realized why we were seated in this area. It's because we were in the going to Hell section of the Church. I'd say there were only 3 people sitting around us who got up to get communion. Not that I have a problem with this. I think Billy Joel said it best: "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints."

After the ceremony was over and after 20 minutes of waiting for the church to unpack it was finally our turn to go through the receiving line. It is at this point where I become known to everybody as "Date Nick". We pass the mother and the father of the bride who are standing an awkward distance apart from each other, which makes me think that they're divorced. I guess that's the circle of life for ya. After them were the parents of the groom, cozied right up next to each other. That's amore. Next was the groomsmen. Erin explains that Arick's (I know right?) brother is one of them. I then peer down the line and see that there is a fellow of African-American descent in the line. I ask Erin if he is also a brother. I'm very witty. Lastly the bride and groom are met and we get to exit the church, but not before we are handed small vials of bubbles to blow on them as they leave. Damn, no rice throwing. While waiting outside for the newlyweds we are talking to Nick Alter and his girlfriend. He introduces me to her as Nick. Then adds on that this is THE Nick Rosati. She then tells me that she's heard so much about me. This creeps me out more than having to see Ray in his boxers everyday. OK, maybe not that much but you get the idea. I don't hang out with Nick Alter that much. In fact, I haven't really hung out with him since college, and not frequently even then. Why is it that my guy friends have little manfatuations with me? And why doesn't my incredible charm work on the ladies? C'est la vie. Anyways, newlyweds come out, bubbles are blown, they drive off and because there's about a 3 hour lag time between the ceremony and the reception we decide to get some delicious food at one of our favorite places: Dana's.

The first thing we see when we enter the bar is a group of thirtysomething ladies in the corner. There are presents. There are balloons. There are diapers. They're having a fucking baby shower in a college bar. I don't care that they were Xavier graduates. What kind of low class tramp do you have to be to have your baby shower at a place where people go to get wasted and make poor life decisions? We grab a pitcher and get some food and sit down. The celebration leaves and the bar is ours. We mostly chat about nonsense, but what I believe is the highlight of the conversations comes when we are each talking about our living situations. It starts off by Eric fawning over his futon, then Amanda being in a young professional sorority with 3 other girls. Erin reminisces about the offer to stay at the 1923 after college, and how that was not even an option. My turn. I talk about 1421 and how my room was incredibly small and that the room I am in now is the biggest in 4 years. I tried to make it as awkward as possible and I think I succeeded. You see, Erin never saw my room at 1421, but Amanda did. Amanda saw a lot of it. However, during the conversation she didn't utter a single word and seemed to be more focused on her drink that usual. Awkward achieved. After a second pitcher we decided to leave in a downpour and we were off to Loveland.

During the car ride over Erin and I discuss much. How she might not be here for her birthday. The plan for getting home after the reception. And what exactly is TMI when discussing a hookup. We were talking about the awkward room conversation we had at the bar and I told her that Amanda hit her head on my ceiling. Apparently this was too much for Erin. Too descriptive. Oh I'm sorry, you can talk about how you woke up and had to channel your inner Lewis and Clark to find your gold top but I can't say that someone bumped their head? Talk about a double standard. As we get to Loveland I am told that we are looking for "Old Loveland". We are looking for a certain tavern in "Old Loveland" and so we make a turn onto Main thinking that this should take us there. How wrong were we. You see, this wasn't Main Street. This was Main Avenue, a shoddy little road leading nowhere. After a couple of turn we find Loveland Avenue, which is probably their version of Main Street. We get to the tavern and meet up with Amanda and Eric for another drink. They order their drinks and get carded so I reach for my wallet. FML. I didn't have my license. In all the toga commotion of the previous night I must not have put it back in my wallet after Animations. I promptly get laughed at by Erin because that's what friends are for and order a water. While we are sitting at the bar this old couple sitting at the end strikes up a conversation with Eric, what about I don't know but they seemed like they were having a good time, if you know what I mean. The tavern experience was largely uneventful except for the bartender. By day she was just your ordinary everyday bartender, but by night she was a huge nerd. She had multiple tattoos. You are asking yourself right now, "Tattoos aren't nerdy. What are you talking about?" Well, these tattoos didn't consist of a flower or a fairy or a tribal armband. These were nerd tattoos. On her arm she had a tattoo of the Superman logo overlaying a tattoo of the Batman logo. On her hand she had a tattoo of the Rebel Alliance insignia, colored red and everything. I think I fell in love for the first time at that bar.

7 o'clock is quickly approaching and it's off to the reception. This reception was at a place called Receptions. I think the guy who came up with that was just too lazy to think of a clever name. I tell Erin that not only am I gonna open up a bar and call it Drinks, but I'm also gonna open a restaurant and call it Food. Money in the bank. We enter and find out that there's not assigned seating, so we take a seat with other phonathon people. It is at this point that we figure out that they are carding at the bar. FML #2 for the day. I then turn on my southern (Wisconsin) charm and politely ask Erin to go get me a drink. I consistently refer to her as honey, dear, sweetie, and every other lovey dovey nickname I can think of just to aggravate her. And in response I get another I'm gonna punch you in the face. But I also get my drink. Nick: 1, Erin: 0. Drinks are followed by a slideshow presenation of pictures of the bride's life, then the groom's life, then pictures of them together. How precious. I was just sitting there the whole time waiting for food. We are informed that we have to wait for the "Captain" to tell us to go. Fortunately I am awesome and am sitting at a table near the wedding party and so we are one of the first tables to eat. I grab some salad, mashed potatoes, mastaccioli and chicken parmesan. I know, superdego. I'm not a hughe fan of mashed potatoes, but I will eat them if they look good enough. However, these mashed potatoes were like a hot girl with herpes. Looks good on the outside, but once you get a taste you are fucked. These were the worst mashed potatoes I had ever had. Worst. I wash that taste out of my mouth with marinara sauce and G&Ts. After the food came the speeches by the best man and the maid of honor and then the reason I was invited to this wedding was upon us. Dancing.

Their first dance was to "I Wanna Grow Old with You" from The Wedding Singer. I declare this a good first dance song. Then came the father-daughter and mother-son dances. I tell Erin that I think "Father of Mine" by Everclear would be an interesting father-daughter dance and that the mother-son dance should be "Mamma Mia" by ABBA. Clever me. Next came the bouquet toss and garter toss. The bouquet toss was to "Single Ladies" by Beyonce. I love dancing to this song but felt it would be inappropriate for me to go out there. It was a weak toss from the bride that only made it to the first row. Disappointing. The garter toss was to "Legs" by ZZ Top. This was yet again a weak toss that only made it to the first throw. This poor couple's children are going to be so unathletic. Finally it was time for me to shine on the dance floor. The first song was a slow song. Who starts off the dancing with a slow song? This DJ was terrible. He was very old and he played way too many old songs that no one liked. Erin decided that she didn't want to dance to a slow song. We don't have that kind of relationship. However, after every. single. person. went out to dance she crumbled under the peer pressure and said we should go out there. Throughout the night much dancing was had. That were even a lot of set dances, i.e. YMCA, Chicken Dance, Electric Slide. But there was one song that came on that I didn't know had a choreographed dance to it: "Cotton Eye Joe" by Rednex. I thought people just put on their best hoedown performance for this song. Apparently not if you're from Indiana. This dance consisted of only moving your right leg: a step forward, pause, a step backward, pause, quick step forward, quick step backward, quick step forward, quick step backward, and finally a move I would term the "Hillbilly Kick". Turn 90 degrees. Rinse. Wash. Repeat. I did not partake. I went to the bathroom shortly after this and happen to catch the music playing from the reception going on in the next room. Coincidently they were playing two songs that also had set dances to them. As I entered the bathroom they were playing "Jump On It" by Sir Mix-A-Lot and as I exited the bathroom they were playing "Cupid Shuffle" by Cupid. Both of these choices would have been a lot better for the reception I was at because I can cut a mean rug to both of them.

There was a guest appearance at the reception by none other than the Blue Blob, Xavier's most beloved mascot. (Arick was a mascot while at Xavier). The highlight of the night was probably when I got my picture with him.

As we were leaving the reception we ran into Arick and said our goodbyes and congratulations, and Erin threw out the fact that I was Ray's roommate. Apparently Arick has an odd fascination with Ray and the crazy hijinks that he gets into. He told me that I probably had some good stories for him. He was right. But I told him that this night was a special night for him and that I didn't want to give him nightmares. We left for the car to go home. I had to drive because Erin is a lush and had had too much to drink. She informed me that I was the first person other than her to drive Alexus. I'm so special. On the way home we were trying to decide if we wanted to go out somewhere or just call it a night. We opted for calling it a night and I dropped off Erin and her apartment and drove Alexus back to mine because the Monte Cristo was still at Angie's from the Beer Olympics. And that was the story of The Wedding Date.

Toga! Toga! Toga!

Last night was the Alcoholic Olympiad. Hosted by Chris McMahon the Olympiad consisted of 4 different events: Cornhole, Flip Cup, Beer Pong and Dice Football. Now I'm sure all of you know how to play the first 3 of these, and that none of you know how to play the 4th. That's because Dice Football is made up and is a pretty awful drinking game. This game is played with 4 people in teams of 2. You sit on opposite ends of a table and throw dice into a marked end zone. A small piece of tape is placed in the middle of the end zone and if your die lands on it you score ten points, otherwise you score whatever the die says. The problem with this game is that we played on a table with groove lines on it. You know what happens when you try to roll a die on a grooved table? It goes wherever it wants and almost completely eliminates all skill from the game.

There were a total of 20 teams representing 21 countries: Australia, Chile, Cuba, Italy (Angie and me), Greece, Mexico, United States, Canada, Brazil, Ireland, Wales, England, Jamaica, South Africa, China, Russia, Switzerland, Germany and Zimbabwe with Japan and Togo combining to form one team. Costumes were worn by almost every team, Chile being the only team not in costume, ranging from terrible (Greece coming in golf attire and as a slut/Aphrodite, although I don't know if that really was a costume or not and Brazil just wearing a shirt that says Brasil, Togo coming in a toga, South Africa carrying around a stuffed monkey) to awesome (Germany in full lederhosen, Italy in togas, Jamaica in Rasta gear complete with joints). After the opening ceremonies consisting of drinking and meeting the other teams the games were on.

Up first for team Italy was cornhole against host Switzerland. It was an epic showdown between two European powerhouses. Switzerland took an early lead 4-0 by holing one and placing 2, while Italy could only place one. Then Switzerland's score kept getting bigger and bigger, while Italy shit the bed. We lost 21-0. Twenty one to zero. That's all I have to say about the cornhole even because we were terrible.

Next we were to play flip cup against the Irish. They talked a mighty game beforehand, even if I couldn't understand anything through their thick (fake) accents. We played two cups to a person, alternating turns. We decided that I would go first for our team. The starter cup was dropped and I quickly down my beer and flip, landing it on the second try. Angie then picks up her beer to drink, and 10 seconds later she's still drinking. I think she literally filled it up half way. Despite this she quickly flips hers and lands it, and I follow with a one timer. At this point we are ahead 3-2 and Angie goes for her second turn. Once again her beer must have been filled up halfway, because despite a good 4 second head start on the final cup, she was still drinking when the Irish had drank and flipped their final cup. Now this tournament was best 2 out of 3 so we still had time to come back. But, alas, we could not recover from our defeat and were beaten 4-2 in game #2. In case you were keeping score at home, this brings Italy to 0-2 for the day. It is at this point that I start drinking side beers more furiously because I don't think I'll be doing much drinking during the games.

Our third event of the day was dice football against the Jamaicans. We both start off pretty slow while gauging how hard to toss the dice. Eventually, I land the first score with a 6. Much celebration is had because we are winning something for the first time. I quickly follow with a 5 to bring it to 11-0. This game is first to 50 so we're not quite sure if we'll ever get there because of the low percentage of successful throws. However, Jamaica responds with a 10 pointer. 11-10. This was Jamaica's only real threat of the day, due to their massive doobie smoking I don't think they could see straight. Eventually as Italy found their stroke, the game was won 53-36. Much more celebration was had by Italy because we had advanced past the first round.

Finally, it was the start of beer pong for us against Australia. Details of this first game are a little fuzzy because it was very uneventful and much beer had been consumed at this time. We did win though to advance to the second round. The same can be said for our second round match against Ireland. Nothing too exciting but the result was a win putting us in the quarterfinals.

We moved on to the second round of dice football against Greece. This was closely contested game with the lead changing hands numerous times throughout the game. Because the previous games were taking such a long time this round was only played to 30 points. We found ourselves down 22-16 when Angie rolled a 3 and I rolled a 5, giving us a 24-22 lead and in good position to win the game. However, on the very next turn Greece rolled a 4 and landed one on the 10 point strip to seal the deal for them. I think the deciding factor in this game was that there was a baby (he's just a baaaaby) sitting right by us, and Angie went into mother mode and was distracted throughout. So Italy was eliminated from 3 of the contests.

It was after this that Greece an Italy both went out to refill their beers. Aphrodite then asked me a common question: "Aren't togas Greek?" To this I had to reply that while maybe it may be more associated with the Greeks because of the association with college fraternities, togas actually are a garb first worn by the Holy Roman Empire. It is a common misconception and I was asked that question more than once this night, so I did not think too much of it. But then showing that she is indeed no Athena, she asked me what the Roman Empire had to do with Italy. Roman. Italy. Roman. Italy. It was at this point I dismissed her as just another dumb slut, and correctly so.

The quarterfinals of beer pong for us was against China. From this point on in the tournament the games became more exciting and thus my memory of them is more complete. More beer = better memory. Imagine that. We started off pretty well, hitting one on our first turn while China missed. A miss by us gave China a chance to tie it up and on their next turn they made a cup. The only problem was that the guy made it in his own cup. As part of their costumes they were both wearing coolie hats, and this guy apparently did not take into account how big his was as his ball hit his hat and fell into his own cup. We follow up by hitting one cup as does China. We re-rack to a small triangle but fail to hit anything. China doubles up on us, but the rules stated that there were no bring backs if you hit both balls. Yeah, I know, I've never played that way either. Anyways 3-3 now and we hit one and they hit one. 2-2. Our next turn Angie and I both make our cups. We believe it's game over, as it usually would be in this situation. But China demanded a rebuttal. Now because I was drinking and I felt like I was being wronged, my ubercompetitiveness came out and I started arguing that the rules stated that there is only a rebuttal when the cups are down to 1-1, and the losing team has to make 2 out of 3 to successfully rebut. Javi came over and argued that they should get a chance, and then I was being told by Angie to give them a chance. So I let them have their chance, even though earlier when Ray's team had their last two cups hit on the same turn the other team automatically won. Anyways, this whole situation would not have mattered except for the fact that China hit both fucking cups on their rebuttal. Damnit. So we go into one cup sudden death. We're up first and Angie misses but I make mine. Damn I'm clutch. My inner monologue is going "Miss. Miss. Miss." And China does miss both their shots. It's on to the semifinals for Italy. Afterwards Javi comes back up to me and told me that I just needed to shot them up with my play. And I did.

I'm seriously pumped at this time at how great I am at beer pong, even though before Friday I hadn't played in a very long time. Our semifinal match was against Greece. Not only do I want to beat them as revenge for our dice football loss, but I absolutely do not want to lose to someone as dumb as miss Aphrodite. This game was played after the sun had gone down, and some flood lights were brought out for illumination. I won't bore you with the beginning stages of this game, because the ending is where the good stuff is at. We see ourselves arrive at one cup remaining for each team. I'm getting progressively more drunk because Angie is filling up these cups way more than they needed to be, and progressively more upset that I keep missing. Eventually Greece makes their final cup and I think we're done for. Angie takes her rebuttal shot and misses. I take a deep breath, steady myself and shoot. SCORE! A successful shot. I'm thinking to myself that I still have to make one more because that's what the rules say, but Greece agrees to just play by regular rules and continue the game. Both teams are unsuccessful on their next turn, but Greece does once again make it on the following turn. Once again, fuck my life. Angie misses her shot and I follow my routine of deep breath and focus and shoot. SPLASH! Another successful rebuttal. I take a 2 second personal celebration and then come back to the game. Greece misses again. I make my shot the next turn. I'm very excited at the prospect of winning. Greece misses both their shots and Angie and I are in the finals. Angie may not be the best shooter, but she is a very good coach. At different points in the game Angie would switch up the order so that I would shoot first. I would say about 75% percent of the times that she did that I made my shot. Way to go Angie. After the game Angie and I are talking with Aphrodite over some side beers and she asks me how I made both my rebuttal shots. I tell her that it was luck and that I closed my eyes. She then asks me if I was for real. Now I know there are gullible people in the world, but anyone who believes that doesn't deserve to be at the same table I am.

Almost immediately after this we get to the gold medal game against Brazil. Let me take you back to the opening ceremonies when we met the Brazil teams and one of them says that he is a semiprofessional beer pong player. Dear Brazil, please stop making up things when hitting on my partner. You aren't professional squash players or Denmarkian princes. The only thing we have heard about Brazil and their real prowess is that they made 75% of their shots against Japan/Togo. I am not afraid. We trade cups until we have 2 left and they have 3 left. Angie steps up and nails her shot. That's my girl. I take my toss and sink it. No rebuttal from Brazil. Championship Italy!
Considering we didn't make it past the second round in 3 of the 4 games, I am satisfied with just the one gold medal.

The games were over and Angie was MIA. I think they took a lot longer than anybody thought they would because there was no medal ceremony afterward. Or if there was I was already gone by the time they happened. Rosie had called and asked me if I wanted to go to Animations. She sealed the deal by telling me that Julianne was there. So she comes and picks me up and we're on our way. Mind you I am going into a local bar still wearing my toga, but I had had enough to drink that I didn't care. I get in and the first person I see is Amanda Robinson. Let me tell you about the last person you expect to see: someone you hooked up with who has moved to Baltimore but was in town for a wedding. I also met her boyfriend who you will hear plenty about in my next post. Also there is Erin, Jody, Acacia, and Sam. I make the rounds and constantly tell people that I am wearing a toga. I must have been really annoying, but people loved it. Then some lady who must have been in her 40s comes up to me and asks me if I was serious. Of course I'm fucking serious lady. I'm sorry that you are too old to be ridiculous and have fun. Don't come raining on my parade. I spot Erin leaving to walk home and I run after her to walk her home. Huge mistake. Erin had made sure to take her surly pills that night and was not being very pleasant. She was telling me that I didn't need to patronize her with by walking her home and she kept saying "OK I'm at my apartment, you can go". People who were not happy that night: Nick. So I walk back to the bar alone and instantly get my spirits lifted by all the random people shouting "Toga! Toga! Toga!" I am awesome. I get back to Animations where some guy tells me that I must have big stones to go out to a bar in my toga. He's not lying. I sit outside and get Rosie's attention to take me home. She drives me home and I pass out still in my toga. All in all it was a great night and I hope to do it again soon.

Coocoo for Coco's

I must admit, yesterday was a pretty good day. I had a nice relaxing day at work complete with Dead Like Me watching and Sporcling. Did some cleaning at the apartment so it looks presentable, not that there's anybody it needs to be presentable for, but I'd rather not have large black flies buzzing around my head while I'm trying to take a shower. After work I enjoyed some recorded TV such as The Colbert Report designating Hurricane Katrina as a Democrat and PTI discussing the Jordan Crawford slamdango of LeBron. I made myself some mac & cheese for dinner. I made about a pound of it and I ate the whole thing. Let me tell you, carrying all that weight around in your stomach does not feel good. Note to self: follow Tony Sinclair's advice and enjoy all good things in moderation.



Now for the real adventure of the day: Kentucky.



We had planned to go to this bar down in Covington called Coco's for their Thursday night special of $1 bottles of beer and $1 mixed drinks. The mixed drinks were small like the ones you get at DERF 10 for 10, probably a little smaller. If it's any indication of the size and alcohol content I think I drank about 8 and I was only working a buzz. The real party had nothing to do with drinking though. First off, it was some random man's birthday and as a result the bar manager was passing out cupcakes. To everyone. Even if you didn't want one. I got one with blue frosting and John got one with yellow frosting so I promptly traded. I didn't even eat the frosting I just like the color. While this is going on the DJ starts up with some hot jams. He played a mix of I'd say about 10 or so Michael Jackson songs. A fitting tribute to the King of Pop. This is when the heated discussion of the greatness of Billie Jean came up between Scott and myself. I had to defend my claim that not only is Billie Jean not one of the 5 best songs ever, it's not even one of the top 5 MJ songs. Hell, it's not even top 10. I know everybody likes to cream themselves whenever the song comes on, and yes, it is an excellent song, but MJ has done so much better in his career. You Are Not Alone, Dirty Diana, Beat It, Smooth Criminal, Thriller, On The Line, Will You Be There, They Don't Care About Us, Human Nature. All these songs are better and deserve recognition. And I do realize I only listed 9 so don't go saying Billie Jean must be your number 10. I just don't have the definitive list written out yet, I'll save that for one of my list specials.



Anyways, after some more hot jams Jacki showed up. Jacki is awesome and is coming to Vegas with us. After some casual conversation something catches my eye. Coco's has two Twister games sitting behind the bar. Twister is fucking awesome. I point out this fact to Jacki and she says that if I go get it that she will play with me. I make her pinky swear on it so as to make it official. I go up to the bar to order us some drinks and then casually mention Twister to the bartender. He tells me that it is played on Sundays. Yesterday was not Sunday so I ask him if I could take it over to this empty space in the bar to play. He apparently is not the Twister master because he deferred me to the younger bartender who looked like he listened to a lot of Fall Out Boy. Despite this fact he was willing to let me take it if I promised not to break it cause this looked like the deluxe Twister. It came in a wooden box and had an aluminum spin board. We sealed the deal with some fist bumps and the game was on. It starts slow with a Right Hand blue for me and a Left Foot Yellow for Jacki. After some more rudimentary maneuvers Jacki ends up being entangled in herself and falls down. I win and I am awesome. I celebrate by having a drink. I didn't think anything could surpass the greatness of Twister, but I was wrong.



Coco's also has a dart machine in the corner. I say dart machine and not dart board because it is one of those electronic plastic ones where the darts don't stick very well and sucks. I throw a couple darts and because I'm somewhat good at dart I get a bullseye on my second throw. I figured that would be the end of darts for the night but Crotch proceded to put his hand on the dartboard as if inviting people to throw at him. Scott takes a turn and misses with all three of his darts. Jacki goes next and connects with her last dart, but it was pretty weak and Crotch doesn't even flinch. My turn. I narrowly miss Crotch's pinky with my first dart. I steel my nerves and takes a precision shot right onto Crotch's palm and rapid fire my next dart to the same area. 2 points for Nick. Crotch decides that this is enough masochism for the night. I must have looked wasted and/or terrible at darts because after about a minute some random guy comes up to me and asks me if I wanted to play. I say sure because I like darts. He then asks me if I want to play for money. I contemplate for a moment that this guy may be a hustler a la Paul Newman, but I quickly banish that thought with the reminder that I've been playing darts for at least 10 years now and the only person I've played that can beat me is Papa Rosati. I agree to a $5 dollar bet and we decide on Cricket as our game. Cricket is a game where the goal is to hit 15 through Bull 3 times each, and then end up with more points than your opponent at the end. Points are gained by hitting a number that you have already hit 3 times and that your opponent hasn't closed out (hit 3 times). I start off decently by putting 2 in the 18. My opponent gets up and is not close to being precise with his throws. It is at this point that I have assured victory in my head. After a few more turns 20s, 19s, 18s and 16s have been closed out and I have only 3 17s and 2 Bulls left whereas my opponent has all 3 17s, 15s and Bulls left. I am, however, down in points 19-18. I decide to go for points instead of the 17s because it is much easier to get points not having to throw at the bullseye. Bam, triple 15. This game is all but over. My next turn I hit a triple 17 and I end it with a bullseye the turn after that. I have now just paid for my drinks for the night.

The rest of the night at the bar consisted of much dancing and singing. My favorite moments of this period were the group Cupid Shuffle of which I am a pro at thanks to Workshop and Longworth's, and my display of my Thriller dance moves. This is the reason Erin is taking me to the wedding on Saturday: I can really cut a rug. After a rowsing rendition of Don't Stop Believin' we decide that it is pretty late and I have to get up in 5 hours for work. FML. Scott, Crotch and I walk Jacki to her car while Javi goes to get his car to drive us back. It is at this point you may ask yourself, "Wait, wasn't John part of this story?" Right John was part of this story until he decided he had had enough and left before even the Twister began. John is lame. We arrive at Jacki's car, part ways, and Javi picks us up. On the ride home the 4 of us were rocking out to some song that I can't remember and annoyingly singing to this girl who was driving next to us talking on the phone. She occasionally looks over, smiles and gives a little laugh. While we stopped at the light right by Newport she turns to us and says something that sounds like "You're hot." This was, in fact, not what she said. She repeats herself and we clearly hear her say "Scott?" Scott then says "Beth?" (Note: Beth might not have been what Scott said, but she looked like a Beth so that is what I will call her) Javi and I are really confused in the front and Scott tells us that he went to grade school with this girl. Most. Random. Run-in. Ever. I conclude that this is a great end to the night and when we arrive back at John's house I drive home.

I give this night a 8 out of 10 on the fun scale.

Why Dead Like Me?

And they just referred to Bacchus as the Greek god of wine. Everyone knows that Bacchus is the Roman god of wine, Dionysus is the Greek. Damn people read a book before writing your scripts.