Removed for his own safety and because he’s a douche bag.
Web story surrounding Ass Hole LeDouche James fan being booted from The Jake not pointing out the main fact: The guy is a douche…
Seriously, what’s worse than King Douche? I’d say it’s a guy in Cleveburg who decides to wear his new LeDouche Miami Heat jersey to an Indians game…
Don’t you just hate guys like this? I know I do.
by Mike Zimmer, One time Tribe apologist
Douche Bag hero leaves town. Douche Bag contrarian fan buys new Douche Bag Miami Heat jersey, goes to Cleveland Indians game and shows off. Douche Bag contrarian fan gets peanuts and cups of beer thrown at him and has to be escorted out of the stadium “for his own safety” (http://www.sportsbybrooks.com/witness-lebron-heat-gear-guy-ejected-at-the-jake-28756).
I hate people like this. Guys who have to be ass holes for the point of being ass holes, contrarian for the sake of being the center of attention and doing douchy things like this flaunting and taunting the home town fans with his new King Douche Miami Heat jersey. This guy had to know when he got out in public in Cleveburg that his fellow Cretans (aka Cleveburgian citizens) that they were going to react and probably not well. I mean, it’s the veritable Meatchicken fan at a Buckeyes tailgate, an Ass Hole from Cincinnati who roots for the fucking Steelers or the guy who just to be a jerk-off follows his Douche idol to his Douchey new team and then flaunts it at a Cleveland sports venue. Thus, the guy is a Douche and the story about him being escorted out of The Jake is under reporting this fact.
If this guy had done this at a Browns game, I’m willing to bet he would have had his ass handed to him and that LeDouche James jersey jammed down his throat and the Miami Heat hat stuck up his ass. After all, Tribe fans are there having a good time, drinking some beer knowing the Indians are probably going to lose. Browns fans, knowing too that the Clowns are going to lose are there to drink beer and beat peoples asses because they’re low-brow morons. Yet, in the case of Mr. Contrarian, they would get a pass and the act would be acceptable.
Nice Marmut. Brewdog’s latest and greatest comes packaged inside the best taxidermy has to offer these days. No, really.
Scottish brewer has come up with ‘The End of History’ when it comes to brewing beer, 110-proof concoction comes in fancy animal carcass dispensors…
Checking in at $762 bucks, it better be the greatest freakin’ thing on the planet and come packaged inside an endangered Lemur…
I wonder if Boston’s will have this stuff available anytime soon???
by Mike Zimmer, Beer aficionado
Scottish beer maker Brewdog (http://www.brewdog.com/about.php) has ended their run of trying to make the most exotic and the most high alcohol content beers in the world. They think they have done that with ‘The End of History’ and apocalyptic brew mad at 55% alcohol or 110-proof. Oh but wait, there’s more!!!
The beer will come neatly packaged in roadkill…er…your local taxidermists finest. That’s right, the beer will be featured in bottles jammed into the mouths of real animals like rabbits, squirrels and badgers (http://www.ajc.com/business/worlds-strongest-beer-is-576413.html?cxntlid=cmg_cntnt_rss). And yes, of course PETA, and all the whackos are all upset at this which I think makes it even that better.
The Belgian style ale will pack a punch, made with nettles, juniper berries and other enhancing flavors, at that high an alcoholic volume, you’ll be as stiff as the dead rodent you just poured the beer from. My question is, will we all be able to sample this bit of awesomeness at Boston’s Bistro anytime soon? Hmmmm?
Did you really think I’d not post something for 4th of July just because I was on vacation in Atlanta??? Especially after honoring our Canuckian sisters???
Time to celebrate those things most American and say Happy 4th of July to the best place on the earth, The United States of America…
Sure, it’s been a difficult go of late, but God has blessed the USA and we need to celebrate all the things that make it wonderful!!! Happy Birthday America!!!
by Mike Zimmer, On my way back from Atlanta on the the 4th of July
Happy 4th of July out there from Kegerator Nation. God Bless the USA!!! After honoring our Canadian sisters, well, I couldn’t go and not post something for the 4th could I? Hell No!!!
While it’s been a tough time in America these days, with a horrible economy that reminds us of the great depression, a border that is over-run, an oil spill fouling some of the most beautiful places on the planet and not just the USA and an era where crap is king, well, it’s hard to remember that sometimes we take a lot for granted in this country. We’re fucking awesome for one. We have the greatest country on Earth no matter what side of the aisle you sit politically, no matter what your religious beliefs are, no matter what color or ethnicity you are, it’s all part of the amazing melting pot that is America and it’s fucking great.
So Happy 4th of July. Now enjoy some of the best things about America, like Jesus, Apple Pie, Budweiser and THE Ohio State Buckeyes. Oh, and hot chicks too. Read the rest of this entry »
One of the best beers I’ve tasted in years. Oh, and it just so happens to feature two of my favorite things…beer…and bourbon!!!
April’s beer of the month is a treasure of finely crafted beer, finished in a bourbon barrel for that something extra special…
When my Derby party rolls around next month, I want…no need…a case of this stuff around just for authenticity…
Kentucky Ale and Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale made one special night that much more exciting and special.
by Mike Zimmer, Bourbon
Last week, whilst down in Louisville, Kentucky seeing Tea Leaf Green with my buddy Brew, we happened upon a libation that now holds a special place in my heart. Not only was this beer something tasty, different and special, it is now linked with an infamous night, the first time I saw Tea Leaf Green.
That aside, the beer from Lexington, Kentucky brewer Alltech is a fantastic blend of a finely crafted ale, dark and rich on it’s own merits, with that of aging in a bourbon barrel from Kentucky’s finest distillers. The beer is enhanced by that hint of spirit, that slight twinge of something mellow, something aged and something rich. The taste of this beer is finished with the fine taste of bourbon, a hint really, an additive that makes the character of this beer come alive in ones mouth.
Beer and Bourbon are amongst my favorite things in life. This beer found a way to make both of them come alive in one libation fit for royalty. I felt like royalty, Kentucky royalty as I sipped away at this pleasant and intoxicating beverage that blew me away on taste, consistency and satisfaction. It was never over powering, never over done, and always satisfying to the last bit of lukewarm fluid in the glass. Read the rest of this entry »
When it comes to American brew with some flavor or character, a trio of favorites win the day on calories, alcohol content and taste.
According to the do-gooders at Men’s Health and Eat this, not that, they’ve ranked the top 20-brews that won’t help add to your beer belly too much…
Yet, they failed to measure taste and alcohol content as well as price as a factor in their formula. Luckily, that’s where I come in…
And, you’d be surprised who packs the most for the least and still remains satisfying when ice cold and you want a buzz…
Your guide to American beers that do the trick on both ends.
by Mike Zimmer, Beer Drinker Extraordinaire
According to the do-gooders and calorie counters over at Men’s Health Magazine, Miller Genuine Draft 64 is the best beer you could drink and help keep away that beer gut. Also, Beck’s expensive Premium Light and the absolutely tasteless Michelobe Ultra got top honors at #2 and #3. There’s only one problem with this: Those beers suck, have no freakin’ flavor and if you drink them you’re a girl. Oh yeah, and with the MGD 64, you’re only getting 2.8% alcohol by volume which is LESS than old fashioned near-beer.
Nope, if you want a good tasting beer, something with character, something that won’t cost you too much AND you still want to be able to get your drink on and get buzzed, you don’t need to look very hard to find some choices that are still rather decent even if you are fighting that battle against the beer belly.
In the list, there were plenty of good choices for flavor. But, the combination of flavor, plus calories and then alcohol content was often missed in the formula. So, in an effort to help you fight your own “Operation Fat Ass” or if you want to defend you beer intake during the time of a weight loss plan, go with these following surprises on the list: Read the rest of this entry »
Saturday I witnessed Peterborough United Football Club or ‘The Posh’ as they are known around my new hometown play Stockport United F.C.
A Friday out drinking on the town somehow lead me to a soccer game on Saturday afternoon…
Yet, the visit to see the local “football” club in action was a fun couple of hours entertainment…
Beers were consumed, new friends were made, sports was watched, no fights or arrests took place and I might just do it again in the future.
by Mike Zimmer, Posh?
When I went out Friday night to my local watering hole for some beers, I didn’t really have a plan nor friends to meet out. Yet, I managed to run into some familiar folks at my regular local, have a few beers and then head home to turn in early and catch up on my DVR before baseball came on at Midnight.
Upon the walk back home, I stumbled into the other pub I don’t often drink at. For whatever reason I felt I needed more beers and maybe I’d run into someone else there too. Heck, it was on the way home any how. That pub is known as the “sports” pub and also has a few other somewhat lesser charms to it. For one: it smells bad in there. Two: I have never felt at ease in there and Three: for it to be called a “sports” pub is a crime against the ideal of a sports bar. The place has 2-TV’s, count them, 2 and since it has both a dart board AND a pool table it’s given that name. Oh and it’s next to the bookies and people routinely go down the sidewalk to place bets at any given chance.
It’s a rougher cut crowd, more working class and gruff and that also means it’s a bit closed off for a Yank like me. My regular pub has more of a mixed crowd and they’re used to the Americans up there somewhat. Even if it can be a bit snobby, it’s never been scary. My trips into the Sports pub in the past haven’t always been the case.
Yet, there I was and in the throws of tying one on in classic heavy drink fashion. Helped out by half a pain killer for my back that I’d taken before my walk home because it was stiffening up. Oh, and did I mention I hadn’t had a thing to eat all night??? I’m a big guy, I can hold my drink, but I was seriously wounded and then some.
Amazingly enough I managed to meet 4-new people and started talking soccer with them (football to them). And, I mentioned that I’d actually like to go to one of the local teams’ games sometime but I knew nothing about it, how to get tickets and how to properly enjoy it.
What I remember is, one fella introduced me to a season ticket holder and his buddy and they told me to be back there at the pub at 1pm the next day. The pub closed and I stammered home, off to drunk dial my way thru my phonebook of usual suspects for the crime. Luckily I only reached one person and let me tell you, my sister can be very forgiving. But, apparently calls were made, messages that I cannot remember making were left, regret and embarrassment ensued and the cycle continues. Tis’ the natural order of life.
For some reason, I went right to bed after that and awoke with the sense that I really should keep my appointment with the lads down at the pub or I’d not be able to show my face back in the joint again without perhaps running back into them sometime and face the stares and music of something typically unflattering about “the Yank”. The only problem was, I was hung over like a M-F-er, full on shakes, sweats and dizzyness to go along with a pretty nasty headache. Nothing else but slugging down about 12-14-pints of lager on an empty stomach with half a pain killer could explain that one away.
Yet I went. It was a beautiful if chilly day even with the sun. Typical English spring: even on a nice day of temps in the 50′s, the wind was blowing a gale of 20mph and it brought with it a cold chill that is ever present. To be outside at a sporting event though is fun no matter what it is, even soccer. The other end of the ”pitch” or field at London Road Ground. Yes, that’s the name of the stadium. The Posh’s home is modest but fair and my seat was as good as it gets at mid-field in the mezzanine.
The guys I was to meet down at the pub were a bit suspicious and actually a little surprised I made it. They were friendly but not very conversational. They insisted they could help me find my way, get a ticket and then rejoin them once the day was finished, no big deal.
We hit it off pretty good though. This despite my feeling and fear that they probably thought I was some kind of raging, beer swilling, loud American like I’d been the night before. I behaved myself the best I could and tried very hard to be as keen about the whole experience as I could considering I was hung over and felt really out of place and out of sorts.
Of course, we did have to have a pint though before hand and then another at a pub across the street from the actual venue itself where Peterborough United play their home games. It wasn’t unlike going to the states and having a beer at a bar adjacent Jacobs Field or like it was down at Riverfront when they still had Flanagan’s. The pub filled up with all sorts of fans, from scary to old to the normal looking folks like the group I was with. To their knowledge, there isn’t much of a faction of Posh hooligans, though I could see just like with Raider fan the stigma lingers. In the process of all this hanging around and chatting, the guys had apparently warmed to me enough to see if there was a way for me to join them up in their season tickets where they said occasionally there was a few open seats and I could sit with them after buying my general admission seats.
Both guys, season ticket holders for year, are avid fans. They travel with the club when they head out of town, missingonly 2-away games this year. And, they never miss a home game for anything. As this was one of the Posh’s last home games in a 46-game season that means they’d seen 43-Peterborough games before we arrived Saturday. Home AND Away games they go to!
Peterborough plays in the 3rd highest level of professional soccer in England. It’s called League One and they just won promotion from League Two last season after being one of the top teams in that level. This season, they are now guaranteed promotion again to the Champions League, which is the next level of soccer in the country, down from Premier League play with the big boys.
In other words, Posh are at the equivalent to AA in baseball and are getting promoted to AAA. It’s an interesting idea to their sports here that the game is tier’d breakingup the competition to teams of like skill and finance in most cases. It also rewards success and winning by promoting the good teams and demoting the ones that stink it up. Each year from the top flight of the Premiership down, they boot out the bottom 3 or 4 teams (or relegation as they call it here) and promoted the next level’s best. Think what this could do for baseball, I mean, Pittsburgh and Cincinnati would be awesome. In football, the Bungles would be at the lowest level and be fighting relegation each year because Mike Brown is a bastard.
Stockport with a rare offensive chance in the Peterborough end during the second half, execute the silliest play in soccer: the nut banger.
With the crowd chanting “We are going up, we are going up” and singing other things to that effect it was a fun atmosphere. And the guys I were with were more than willing to talk to me about the sport, the little things that needed explaining from time to time and sharing their view and interest in the sport. It was nice because I love the idea of showingsomeone that doesn’t know the sports I like. It reminds me more and more of why I love them and it’s always nice to have more folks on board or to understand you a bit more. I mean, these guys spin all the boring jargin about soccer we do back in the states about Football. Sure, sure, our game is better and we have more to talk about but it was still actually nice to hear it here considering I hadn’t yet met anyone that felt that way about sports while here in England that wasn’t a fellow American.
The London Road Ground was nothing special. The place had no special vibe and wasn’t in any way a cathedral to English football in the least. It was decided modest and somewhat minor league though it seats about 15,000-at full capacity. The crowd of around 10,000-was in good spirit and into the game intently though, so you can’t say their fans aren’t devoted.
It was very English in a way, very different than an American sporting event. There wasn’t a lot of conversation and I tried to pick my spots to talk to the lads about the game. The noise wasn’t like at an American football game either, there was chanting, ooooh-ing and ahhhhh-ingof course but that’s really it. And then lots of clapping and a appreciation of good plays, but it was very well refined and never over the top. One annoyingthing they do have in Peterborough is chant “come on ‘boro” which comes out of the crowds sounding like some deranged bird and not so much a chant as a sound like “CamonburaCamonburaCamobura”. say that really loud, really quickly and see how people around you respond.
No drinking was allowed in the seating area though there were modest beer garden like areas under the stadium. The concessions were noticeably modest to poor and it was also apparent that most of the local folks pretty much steered away from it as the lines were biggest for bottles of soda and coffee. Otherwise, there just wasn’t much majesty to it at all and it felt minor league. But, for 20-pounds or the equivalent to $28, I guess I was expecting a bit more. Then again, most Premier League teams are just like NFL teams in that that price is trebbled or quadrupled and then all the bells and whistles that come with it only escalate the price.
I was able to sit with my new friends and enjoy the game from really great seats. And, we saw one of those rare things in soccer called “a goal” when Posh put one past the Stockport goalie. Peterborough was actually really dominating for most of the game including a first half that was spent entirely in the Stockport end as it was clear that The Posh were much better than their less than .500 opponent.
Posh hit the “woodwork” or post of the goal 3-times and had a couple other near misses that could have opened the floodgates to more goals. But, such is the case in soccer that near misses and opportunities like those go missed and hence low scores that bore Americans. I mean, I was able to tell that it was an entertaining game and that Peterborough were better than Stockport but the score bores you when you here it: One-Nil.
With the win, Peterborough cemented their place for next season at a higher level and the home folks went home happy. You can see more about them if you like at www.theposh.com.
As for the day though, it was a good time. The guys I went with are nice fellows and I’m lookingforward to running into them again soon. They invited me back if I wanted to go sometime and said that I’d have to go with them to an away game next season as this season is almost at a close. We were able to talk sports both here and in the USA and it was a fun day talkingsports with someone here that loves it. In general they like sports just like me and we had that in common and were able to appreciate it. That made the all the better.
While I don’t think I’ll be getting season tickets, I’d go back to see more games over in Peterborough. And yes, I’m interested in seeing one of those away games if I could.
At the old Ohio State tailgate spot in the Fawcett Center parking lot, beer in handat 10am, friends all around, with temps at about 30-degrees. It’s really is that simple to please me.
Part II of my trip home: Which included heading up to Old Columbus Town to tail gate, drink mass quantities of beer, consume mass quantities of food and watch the Buckeyes destroy Michigan…
Ahhhhh, see, these things you just can’t miss or replace.
by Mike Zimmer, Fast forwarding a week into my journey back home
While I mean no dis-service or dis-respect to Big B and the fun we had the weekend prior, the big event was going to be flying back up to Ohio from Florida and taking in one of my favorite things in the world to do. Tailgate at Ohio State.
Big B and I had really done it up the weekend before. We had the hockey game on Friday, we went and watched the Buckeyes beat up on Illinois at The Godfather’s (his Uncle-in-law if that truly is a title or not, I’m not sure) on Saturday afternoon and then gone out to a swanky club with his wife and her lady friends that evening.
We learned nothing cures a hangover like Captain Morgan’s and that if you are intent on going to a club later that night with Big B’s lady friends you better prepare for puke to fly like rain. Yes, that last event at the swanky Cape Coral club called ‘The Pearl Lounge’ went from entertaining fun with bottle service and Big B and I pretending to be surgeons, to completely falling apart into chaos and a flood of vomit. Not even the next day at our new official digs for watching NFL football whilst in Florida could erase the memory of Puke Fest ’08.
More on our new Sunday NFL viewing spot another time.
On Friday November 21st though, I flew back up to Ohio on my trusty Air Tran Airways, piling up even more A+ reward miles for future trips. Yes, I’ve flown enough to yet again earn a free one-way trip. Hooray me! I collected me cold weather gear that I had mailed ahead of time to my parents in Tipp City and packed my truck up for the hour plus jaunt over to Columbus. I had gracious hosts back ”home” with my good buddy Jason andhis wife for the weekend awaiting my arrival.
On game day November 22nd, we all started to pile into my truck for the quick trip down to park and then head over to tailgate with my old gang. However, mother nature and my truck had not seen eye-to-eye and the trip had apparently hit a big old snag. My truck which had apparently sat idle at my parents all month wasn’t up for starting in the frigid morning of game day, seriously cramping my style. The trip was not off to a good start at all.
I vowed that I would cure my ills and ease the tension caused from my potential car trouble by soaking my sorrows in as much alcohol as possible by days end. Now free from having to drive, I now was able to do so.
Cold Ladies? Get closer to that fire pit won’t you!
We arrived a bit late to the shenanigans due to my truck issues. Jason had to get his truck out of the garage and around mine which we had to roll down his drive way. However when we did arrive, we found the fire was already warming and the booze was freely flowing. It was horrible. They made us drink!
Frank and Chief talk about the game a bit before it starts.
The Tailgate was warmer than expected. Mike Wilkins who hosts the shindig had gone all out. There was a fire pit to heat us and there was plenty of tarps up for blocking the promised slight breeze that never really came. All in all, though it was barely 30-degrees, it wasn’t too bad at all without the wind and as many as 5 or 6 layers protecting you. By days end, I was down 2 layers. Sure, the booze helped, but really, I’m still tough and used to the weather even though Florida had softened me up a bit on that trip.
Wilky dressed for C-deck.
When we arrived, the gang had already killed one bottle of Jagermesiter. I thought, Thank God for that! Because it’s eventual that they make you drink that Deer Piss for good luck. Well, unfortunately for me, they had back up. The gang then ensued to kill those too and damned if I didn’t have to throw at least one down to make sure not to spoil the mood.
Mass quantities of food and beer were then consumed. Dogs, beer, cheesy potatoes, beer, burgers, beer, shrimp, beer, some sandwiches, beer, chips, beer, cookies, beer, a doughnut, beer, some pretzels and some, you guessed it, beer were had. In that order I think.
The first half was a breeze, it came and went leaving us rather perplexed. The Buckeyes weren’t hitting on all cylinders though they were firmly in control of the game. We were actually bored. Yes, I said bored. Not with the fun, but with the game!
Cheryl, Krystin, Chief and I down at Riverwatchto see the second half beat down. Mmmmmmm, overpriced 24oz cans of beeeeeeeer.
So, a few of us abandoned ship and at the half made the quick trek down to Riverwatch. Though we had to pay for beer and it was surely not to be as warm and toasty as it was at the tailgate, if the game wasn’t going to entertain us then maybe some beer garden shenanigans would. We were not to be disappointed.
The hourd of Meatchicken Bastards was small, but one snuck into my camera shot of Riverwatch. I have done my best not to make him noticeable.
While there, as I said, we were entertained. There was a kicking cover band that had the ability and members to go from ‘Black Eyed Peas’ to songs like ‘Hang On Sloopy’ with ease. Heck, they even played ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ when the Buckeyes went up 4 TD’s. We also bought enough beer tickets to kill us all with that horrid shit they call Miller brand beers and we started to consume en mass. Good or not, we probably wouldn’t have noticed.
Soon enough though the real entertainment found us. Actually, it found me. A really drunk “chick” that looked a little like a dude then tried to hit on me only to try and make a rather good looking 45-year old dude that she was partying with “jealous”. She informed me that he was her professor and that his wife was floating around somewhere. But she had a big thing for him and wanted to be seen flirting. I was nice to it, whatever it was, because it had an Adam’s apple and nose hair, but was taller and angrier looking than me. I was afraid it might try to hurt me if I was rude to it. I was roundly laughed at by my friends. We soon were able to ditch it. I liked it’s friends though.
Unfortunately, the day had another unfortunate incident. While going to go take a piss at the Port-O-John Megaplex near Riverwatch, I somehow lost one of my Bengals Th-insulate gloves. And I loved those damn gloves! I’m not sure if I lost it on the way to the porta-John or in it, but it was gone. My search for it was refined to the area I was standing in and had walked by. There was no way I was going to go looking inside those festering plastic cells of disease and disgust to find it either.
I was then forced to turn my one remaining glove into my drinking glove and find refuge for the other inside my coat. This did not make me happy at all and I would be in a similar situation a week later at the Bungles game. The second half did make me happy however, as the Buckeyes started whooping on the Wolverweenies and destroyed said Meatchicken Bastards 42-7.
The post-game celebration began at Hound Dogs.
The rest of the day was a bit of a breeze. We returned to the tailgate and quickly helped tear it down. Seems that Mike had gotten back early and wanted to beat the crowd. He also thought we had gone off and gave him the slip. We soon formatted a plan. Off to Hound Dogs we would go for some pitchers and pizza. Check and Check (as shown above).
But we really were just getting warmed up. The party then shifted gears across town to a place called Brewsters. About half the gang left from the tailgate high tailed it there andwe started part two of three on the evening. There we drank more beer, listened to a pretty crappy band warm up for an hour anddrank even more beer. When the band started to play we then went outside on their patio to smoke cigarettes and drink some more beer. We also watched a plethora of games that were still on and decided that we needed to be moving on.
Ramage at Lucky’s. Note the time in the background. It was a loooong day.
Jason, his cousin and I were all that remained as we made the decision that we needed to head back down to campus. Actually, Jason’s cousin was supposed to meet a girl down there and well who was a student, and we thought, well, that sounds like fun. We then hopped all over the new South Campus area dodging cover charges as we went. Soon Jason’s cousin was off to do what college kids do…you know…study and such.
That just left Jason, a few thousand peeps, lots of booze andI to fend for ourselves. We survived. We managed to squeeze into Lucky’s Stout House and have a few rounds and live it up amongst the throngs of vibrant, celebrating masses. And, I got to run into my buddy Tom Ramage who is a bar tender down at Lucky’s now days. He managed to find a few quick moments to hop the bar, give us a quick hello and then served us up a parting shot.
Jason and I then decided that it was approaching that time. It was time to make the call. Soon enough, it was decided that we would head for home. But first, we called in an order at Gumby’s. Yep, no trip back home to Columbus would have been complete without some of their unbeatable Pepperoni Rolls. They are to to die for. No really, these things are the best thing on the planet and a nice substitute for sex when you are drunk and aren’t gonna get any.
Not only are they slathered in garlic butter and rolled in parmesian cheese, they’re best served dunked in not pizza sauce (though that’s pretty good too), but in Ranch dressing. Oooooooh yeah, that’s the stuff. I was like a drug fiend feeding a fix while devouring them on the ride home. It is a warm and fuzzy memory and I am salivating even now at the thought of them.
To be sure, it was a long day. We arrived home just short of the witching hour of 2am, safe, sound and blitzed.
The day had some mixed after effects though. Jason wasn’t able to muster a go at watching Sunday football. He was too hung over and wound up having too much work to do to be able. However, that did open the door for me to sneak in a few hours with my buddy John (known here at JW) over at his house. Heck, we even watched some of the CFL’s Grey Cup during that visit. Ah, but that’s a story for another time.
Oh, and my truck? It started right up without even the need for a jump the next morning. Thus, I was able to go on my merry way.
What a great trip. I miss Columbus greatly not just because of these things, but the people that I get to do these things with. I look forward to getting back to land of Buckeyes soon enough, and already have my eye on a trip back next fall to do all sorts of craziness all over again! We’re even planning a trek from Florida with some Buckeye game virgins in tow.
Hope you all enjoyed the pictures and enjoyed the yarn I rolled out about the good time. Next Up: Going to what could be my last Bengals game as a season ticket holder alone and the return to Florida.
Big B and I went to an ECHL hockey game and a soccer game broke out.
Reviewing the recent trip home with picture evidence…
Big B and I make a trip over to the Germain Arena in Fort Myers to watch some minor league hockey…
Beer flowed, a flirtation with disaster came with that and a good time was had by all.
by Mike Zimmer, Mmmmmmbeeeeeeer.
Well, I neglected to properly chronicle my trip back to the states. Both down to the future worldwide HQ of publishing for this here site and back to my beloved home in the Buckeye state. Time to fix that one little bit at a time.
My trip back to the United States was supposed to be about business. The business was to find a job down in the sunshine state and or perhaps back up in Ohio if the conditions allowed and permitted it. While that was a grand failure, I did have a pretty damn good time. On top of a business trip, I had to include some good times right? Well, you’ve already seen that Turkey Bowl IV was part of the adventure back home. But, what you didn’t see and I failed to post about was all the other entertainment and happenings on the trip.
First, I blame Big B’s TRS-80 computer which has the capacity, speed and ability of a retarded turtle. He has since seriously upgraded by venturing out on Black Friday to buy a brand new machine that is both speedy and to my liking. That however was after he and I had jumped into the car and headed over to see some minor league hockey on the 2nd day of my visit back to the states.
The Florida Everblades defeated the Augusta Lynx in a shoot out 1-0 after the game ended scoreless after OT.
All in all a good time was had by all. Germain Arena, home of the Florida Everblades of the ECHL is a pretty nice venue in my book. I could see making occasional trips down I-75 to the new-ish arena and the not to distant university shops with all the trimmings. They’ve done a pretty nice job with the arena and making it a nice enjoyable sporting event.
We first hit the club level and the in-arena sky bar which offered up a nice look out at the ice and I could see being a regular hang out if I were to frequent such things. We had a few beers before making our way to our seats to join a few of Big B’s friends from work who had taken a pair of extras off his hands. It seems that minor league hockey and the novelty of my visits to Florida had worn off in the eyes of Big B’s regular guy friends who I’ve played softball with and enjoyed having company with in the past.
The beer was pretty cheap from what I remember. And that’s the thing, I don’t clearly remember much of the actual game other than to know that it was a bore fest with both teams having to come back the next night and play one another again. Such contests usually offer a pretty tame bit of entertainment with the fighting and rough stuff coming only after an entire game to ”get to know” the other team. Sure enough, the Saturday affair offered up a rougher and more action packed game with plenty of fisticuffs. Oh well, what can you do?
The Everblades out-shot Augusta something awful but couldn’t dent the net resulting in a scoreless draw at the endof regulation. Mostly though, the beer kind of put a haze on things. In combination with my horse tranquilizer pain meds for the pinched nerve in my back, I was feeling no pain that evening.
A pair of sessy dudes. See ladies, beer makes everyone pretty!!!
The actual highlights were the other people in the stands around us. High class, high brow and or even non-mildy retarded they were not. We had what we Big B and I supposed as a mother and son in front of us with thick Northeastern accents screaming silly things. Especially when it came to the Augusta goalie with the familiar name of Brodeur.
Well, Mom and Son Retard (or as they might say, Re-Todd-ded) decided that Marty Brodeur was old enough to have a 24-year old son playing in the equivalent of AA hockey. They began to scream things like “Yer Daddy ain’t heeya to see you stink!!!”. Mostly they were unintelligible and we just laughed at them. Big B and I drank our beer, laughing and hoping not to be drooled on.
Across the isle was another displaced local, obviously from some where in the Northeast. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that a good amount of these newly Floridian Northeasterners were formerly Hartford Whalers fans. They looked pretty comfortable in blue and green mind you. This other yahoo across from us though was a beauty. All he yelled all night long was “Presh-ahhhh! Blades! Presh-ahhhh!!!” Or, to you and me, “Pressure, Blades, Pressure.” Very funny.
But perhaps one of the night’s more interesting features was my penchant for staring a bit too long and being drunk, nearly starting a melee.
Yes, I have a bad habit of people watching. And, yes, as a man I have the wandering eye in typically checking out women’s backsides. Well, apparently as we stepped out for what I do believe was our 14th beer of the night I was propped up against a garbage can and had found a target worthy of a good ol’ long look. Yes, my wife is now rolling her eyes and will later shake her head in disgust over this.
Well, as I stared and Big B spoke to some other guy he kind of knew, I stared squarely at a rather fine and rather small booty. The curiosity to me wasn’t that the woman was even all that attractive. Her ass was, but she wasn’t particularly all that. But, it was an oddity: hanging from her were 4 small children. She wasn’t all that old either. And there was no way in my mind that 4-kids had made it past those hips and not effected that ass in a more disastrous way.
The Writer’s re-imagination of said small and fine booty in a much different setting.
Noticing the attention paid to said booty, the occupying booty’s date, a rather large and aged gentleman of about 6’4 and 275lbs. was none too impressed. He wreaked of Aqua Velva, was dressed about 25-years beyond his age group and none to happy that I was taking my time admiring his date’s ass. He soon stuck his phone in my face with the camera feature displayed.
“Take a picture! It lasts longer!” He shouted as he startled me. I was in a daze. Beer and booty make a man hazy you know people. I think I smirked at him and at about that time Brian motioned for he and I to perhaps find our seats for the final frame of the game. For the old dude, not too sure about his physical ability and not wanting a drunken red-headed mick to rough him up in front of his “family”, all he could come up with was “take a picture, it lasts longer”. Who says that anymore? I’m a lover, not a fighter anyways, so physical violence was avoided both out of this dude’s lack of giddy up and my hazy good mood beer buzz.
The guy that was talking to Big B was the happy couple’s limo driver for the night apparently. The woman wasn’t the mother of the children either, apparently, we would later find out. See, I told you!!! No way 4-kids don’t affect a booty like that! It was all a good laugh.
Big B and his guests and I after the game made the short trip over to the University Shopping Center where we had intended to go to the Bar Louie there. Well, a long ass line quickly smacked that idea in the ass and we instead ventured over to the local Steak and Ale for what was a fun time on their awesomely large patio. More beer flowed.
The evening ended appropriately enough at Big B’s local called Back Streetz. A live band was kicking it old school 90′s and we screamed drunkenly for ‘Possum Kingdome’ from the one hit wonder’s The Toadies. The band complied only after we screamed in between about 5-or-6 songs.
Needless to say, a pretty good hangover was awaiting Big B the next morning. He had trouble throwing beers back over at The Godfather’s while we watched Ohio State beat Illinois. On the other hand, I cured my hangover with Captain Morgan’s. Such a good liver!
Ahhhh, good times. And no violence! See Big B, I posted about that fine evening out after all.
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