Taking A Splash in Baltimore's Finest Waterpark

I mentioned in one of my more recent blogs that I was considering attending my sixth and a half year high school reunion. After much debate, I decided I would attend, mainly because what else was I going to do on the night after Christmas? So the other night I headed down to Frank and Nick's West End Grill. Now, Frank and Nick's watering hole is located right by a few of my favorite watering holes, Pickles and Sliders, so getting there was rather easy. Upon my arrival I noticed it somewhat humorous that things were basically the same. There were probably thirty people there from Towson High, spread into five or six groups. Basically these groups consisted of the same people who were friends in high school and are still friends today. It wasn't until the alcohol started to take effect that people began to mingle and the five or six groups broke into one or two. About half way through the reunion, I started conversing with McGrain and as I've said before I'm a big fan of the kid. He shares my thoughts on the Orioles, at least some of them, and together we termed a phrase describing the academic careers of Stilling and myself. The term was the doctors, lawyers, Stilling, and Geilfuss plan, because well by the time Stilling and I graduate with bachelors degrees, some of our classmates will be graduating from law schools and medical schools.

After a while, the high school reunion started to dwindle down and people started to go their separate ways. Some of my friends were headed to this new club Mist in Powerplant, but I am far from a club person and was completely content with avoiding the crowds and loud music that come at the club scene and heading into Canton with Nate and Ryan. However, word eventually got to Ryan that there were plenty of shenanigans going on at Mist and next thing I know, Nate and I are outside hitching a cab with Ryan to join in at Club Mist. This happened primarily because Ryan decided to use his wheelchair as a battering ram against my legs until I agreed to go to the club. Mist was basically the scene I expected. An overcrowded bar with a huge dance floor used by overaggressive men trying to impress loose scantily dressed women. The cast of the Jersey Shore would fit in perfectly at this place. Eventually, the mood and music got to me and I was forced to strut a few of my finest dance moves and these dance moves have found their way to facebook, courtesy of Shannon, although Gabe does steal the majority of the show. After a few hours and a few too many red bull vodkas, last call was called and the lights came on. Throughout the bar, hundreds of guys and gals became terrified when they could actually see the faces of those they had spent the last two hours grinding away with, but like the majority of people in there, they realized they were horrible human beings and were taking them home anyways.

Alcohol played its part in my next days events as well, although, thankfully for my sake I was not the one involved. I don't know what it is, but when you combine football and alcohol and take away the presence of females, stupidity is sure to follow. Well, this was most certainly the case on Sunday as about halfway through the third quarter of the Ravens game it became evident that a rather interesting bet had been made. Brooks, who for some reason is a Steelers fan, despite the fact that he has never once been to Pittsburgh, made a bet with Corey and Gabe that the Steelers would win the football game. If the Steelers lost, Brooks would be forced to jump into the Inner Harbor not once, but twice. If the Steelers won, both Corey and Gabe would be forced to jump into the Inner Harbor once. For whatever reason both sides agreed to this bet. So when the the fourth quarter came to an end, Corey and Gabe had to face the reality that they would soon be diving into the cold dirty waters that surround the lovely city of Baltimore. Much to Brooks' liking the two men lived up to their word and were soon soaked in wet Baltimore filth. Herpes, hepatitis, and gonorrhea are sure to follow.

While the NFL season still has plenty to offer, with the final week being quite pivotal, at least in the AFC, the fantasy football season has come to a conclusion. At weeks end, I stood victorious in two of my three leagues, as Stilling provided me with a gift by dropping Jonathan Stewart the week before. Turns out the only league I can not consider myself champion is the one I dominated from beginning to end, largely in part to the fantastic fantasy duo of Chris Johnson and Ray Rice. But two out of three isn't bad and it never hurts to add a little pocket change. As for Stilling, I think I owe him a beer the next time I see him for dropping Mr. Stewart, because his two hundred yards certainly helped me defeat the very dangerous Crusty Cumsocks.

Supposedly, Courage Can Come in Many Forms

Brady Anderson once hit 50 homeruns in a single season. Buster Douglas once knocked out Mike Tyson. Michael Jordan played minor leaugue baseball and Ricky Williams played in the Canadian Football League. In the world of professional sports, strange things are bound to happen and that may be what makes sports so amazing. However, most recently another strange thing happened, something that most definately does not make sports awesome. Michael Vick was awarded the Ed Block Courage Award. Michael Vick? Courage? Really? I would just like to know when Michael Vick displayed courage. Did he display courage when he was electricuting dogs? Maybe he displayed courage when he was drowning the dog? Or perhaps he showed courage when he fought off the gang rape in federal prison? He could have possibly shown courage when he returned to play quarterback in the NFL to only take less snaps than Keith Null, Charlie Frye, Kyle Boller, or Ryan Fitzpatrick? But I guess I will never know, I will just have to trust the National Football League and accept the fact that Michael Vick is a courageous man and go on with my life. I do want to add one more thing though. Despite the award, Michael Vick is still not invited to my birthday party.

New Years is rapidly approaching and I currently don't have a clue as to what I'm going to do. Last year in my blog, I mentioned my thoughts on New Years and they haven't changed a bit. In my mind, it's just another day of the year, but yet a lot of people my age get all hyped up about it and try and come up with crazy complex ideas. Some people I know are spending upwards of 100$ for tickets to certain bars that offer an all-you-can-drink special. These so called specials are topped off with a champage toast at midnight. The whole idea is really quite silly, except if your the owner of the bar. He's gotta make a killing that night because I highly doubt there are too many people who actually drink 100 bucks with of alcohol in a single night. Ugh, it's just silly. Quite frankly, I'd rather play Uno with Pat at some dive bar, but I don't see that happening, as Pat will probably be pretty busy serving alcohol at the Rec Room.


If you have ever read this blog, you know I have a strange fascination with horrible horror movies. So you can imagine my excitement when I came across "Santa's Sley," a movie where former WWF superstar Bill Goldberg plays Santa Claus with a catch. The catch being that Santa Claus is really the devil and has been forced to give out presents for the past 1,000 years as part of a curse, but now his 1,000 years are up and Santa is looking for blood. It's pretty awful and by pretty awful, I mean pretty awesome. Any movie that begins with Santa sliding down the chimney and slicing up Fran Drescher is definitely worth watching.

I have a bit more to say, but I'm getting tired, so that will do for now.

The Dream Team Goes to Court

There were plenty of white flurries in the Baltimore area this past weekend and the overall snow accumalation was over 20 inches. Due to the inclement weather, I found myself trapped in downtown Baltimore, which is not a bad thing considering I have quite a few friends in the Canton/Highlandtown area. I don't know what it is about the snow, but it seems to bring out the best in people. For some reason, people just become friendlier when the roads are covered in snow and they are forced to resort to the more traditional forms of transportation. Yesterday, while I was walking to Patterson Park to enjoy some snow related activities, I noticed that everyone just seemed to be at ease. Perhaps its because the snow just provides everyone with an easy icebreaker. Typically people bolt out of their homes and go straight to their autombiles and are off on their way, but when their is a foot of snow on the ground, life slows down a bit, and neighbors start talking to each other and helping each other out. Ugh I'm starting to get sentimenetal.

As I mentioned in my last post, I recently had to take part in jury duty and it turned out to be quite the interesting day. The morning started out rather slow as I was forced to watch some informational video explaining the importance of jury duty. This video depicted jury duty as a patrotic act where jurors where along the same lines as members of the U.S. Army. Images of the American flag blowing in the wind and a bald eagle flying above mountaintops were shown in this short informational video. It was pretty silly and I don't think anyone bought into the idea. Quite frankly, the majority of people sitting in the room, looked downright miserable. It's possible that you see happier people at the MVA in Essex. After the brief video, the lady responsible for sigining all the jurors in put a movie on for everyone to watch as they waited to be called to the courtroom. The movie was Secondhand Lions and I actually kinda liked it. It was similiar to that movie Big Fish that got lots of attention a few years ago, but with a splice of redneck, which made it pretty cool. It also had that freaky kid from The Sixth Sense. After the movie, we had a 2 hour break for lunch, which just seemed absurd. 2 hours for lunch? I mean the woman behind me had three chins and she wouldnt even need two hours to eat lunch, even if lunch was at Golden Corral. Anyways, I ventured around the greater Towson area for awhile and eventually found my way back to the courtroom. I was half tempted to stop in the Kent and just get sloshed before returning to jury duty, but than I remembered the video and figured that getting hammered on my lunch break would be a way of disrespecting my right to serve as a juror. So I settled for a 5 dollar footlong and eventually found my way back to the courthouse and this is where things started to heat up.

After another half or so, I was finally called to the courtroom, where lawyers began to ask questions to some of the potential jurors. At this point, I was tempted to follow the advice of my buddy Damon and say something about how I hate Mexicans, but once again my mind flashed back to the video and I answered all questions honestly, because once again, jury duty is a serious thing and one of the greatest services American citizens can offer to their community. Eventually,the majority of people were eliminated and I was selected to be a part of the jury. We filed into the courtroom and once the opening arguements began, I soon realized that I should not have been selected to serve as a juror. I realized this because I knew the girl was who was suing in the case. She was a member of the infamous Dream Team and was pressing charges against some guy for sexual assault. Supposedly, she got all drunk and rowdy on George's tab at the Kent and than became flirtatious with this overweight guy with long shaggy hair. Eventually, the flirtation became serious and this fat-ass decided to invite her back to his Astro van for some post bar drinks. Here, is where the trouble started. At this point the girl had spent too much time in the third bathrooom at the Kent, which is a den of inequity and her memory started to fail her. So when she followed this overweight shaggy haired fellow back to his Astro van she was techincally out of her element and didn't know what was going on. The whole dream team was summoned to the court to serve as witnesses, but not to my surprise not one of them was helpful, as they all had drank too much in George's office and were not able to recall the events of the night. After a while, the two lawyers concluded their arguements and we were sent downstairs to discuss the trial. At this point, I felt that I should do the right thing and admit to having prior relations with the Dream Team and once I stepped up to the plate and came clean, three of the five other guys in the room admitted that they too had prior relations with this girl, and as a result we felt we could not serve the jury adequately. A few seconds later, one of the females in the room stepped up and said she had had prior relations with this girl as well on one snowy night last winter when she had a bit too much too drink at CVPs. So we were forced to admit our wrongs and as a result of the Dream Team's flirtations and provacative behavoir the trial ended in a mistrial. The Fucking dream team, they really do get around.

Currently, I'm watching the Titans game and that running back they have really does know how to run the ball. For a little guy he is an absolute monster.

"Sometimes the best defense, is a good offense!"

Well, the fantasy football regular season came to an end this past weekend and I've managed to make the playoffs in all three of my leagues, so the next couple weeks should get interesting. Miraculously, Damon managed to finish with a .500 record despite going against the conventional fantasy football strategy and selecting a kicker and a defense in the first two rounds, a move that is typically reserved for the final two rounds.

This past weekend I also enjoyed my first official deer hunting trip. Bennett and I packed our bags and headed up to Frederick with enough firepower to start a small militia, but unfortunately we came home empty handed. We did however find a couple of nice spots and hopefully on the weekend of January 8th, we will have a bit more luck and if not, there's always next year.

As Andy Stilling well knows, when it comes to judging movies, I am probably far from being an expert critic. In my opinion, movies such as 2 Fast 2 Furious and Lionheart are phenomenal and it's highly unlikely that you will ever be able to get me to change my opinions on movies. If the movie is able to keep me entertained from beginning to end, I believe it has done it's job, and therefore it is a good movie. In no way shape or form am I trying to say that Undersiege is Oscar worthy, but nevertheless it's a damn good movie. So this past week when I was browsing the free movies On Demand and found Double Team you can imagine my excitement. An action packed movie with Jean Claude Van Damme and Dennis Rodman. It seemed like a can't miss, but once the movie started, I was bored. It is by far the worst movie, Van Damme has ever been in, and one of the worst movies of all time. Even Legionnaire was better. I had to resort to fast forwarding the movie until the action scenes with Rodman and even those action scenes were sub par. It came as a complete disappointment because the combination of Van Damme and Rodman should have been able to compete with some of history's greatest tag teams, such as the Duke brothers. Maybe I just put too much pressure on the duo from the beginning.

I've been asked to blog about jury duty and I think I am going to do so, just not yet. Also, I watched Rocky II last night and it sparked a couple potential blog ideas, although the Rocky II blog will not be released for a while.

A Lady named T

There are several things I could ramble on about today, but as promised, the majority of this blog will be focused about a trip to the block and a lady named T. I met T one night in the summer of 2006. I remember the year because I would later name my fantasy football team in memory of T and my first pick that year was LaDainian Tomlinson and it was that year that LT went crazy and by crazy I mean 28 touchdowns crazy.

The night started off with Josh Mekalian hosting a poker tournament. It was nothing special, simply a 20$ sit-and-go type event. Eventually the number of remaining player's started to dwindle and I found myself in the loser's lounge debating my next move. It was here where all the trouble began.

After a brief debate we decided that the next most appropriate thing to do was to go see some titties and the best place to do that was the strip club. It was a Monday or Tuesday night and apparently some of the more upscale gentleman's club were closed for the evening so that left us with two options: Route 40 or the Block, we decided on the latter.

We bounced around a few of the shadier spots on the block and eventually settled down at Larry Flynt's fine establishment. A few hours later and a couple of bottles of Mr. Daniels finest Tennessee whiskey and we were on our way. With the alcohol flowing freely, Townsend began to open his mouth and when Townsend opens his mouth after a couple bottles of American whiskey, trouble usually follows. The trouble that followed this time was a rather large gentleman whose career depended on his ability to sell certain products. This man generated Townsend's interest and if it weren't for the advice of an elderly lady with a cane, Townsend would have most likely made a rather poor purchase. This elderly lady advised him that the man's products were no good and he would be better off purchasing them from a friend of hers. She had only one condition and that was that we had to give her a ride to her house. Next thing I know, I'm sitting in the back of Mike Fick's car with this lady as were driving up North Avenue.

It didn't take long for this lady to take a liking to me. Within just a few minutes, she had introduced herself to me as Ms. T and was moving her hand all over my body. I began to slide further and further away from this woman but an Acura is only so big and eventually you run out of room. Making matters worse, Mike and Matt found this to be rather amusing. After turning down several sexual advances, T was forced to become a bit more blunt. She began offering her services to me for a mere ten bucks. At a time like this, one would hope they could turn to two of their good friends for help. Mike and Matt did anything but help. T began to express concern as too why a good looking young male would turn down her sexual advances and I simply replied " I have a girlfriend back home, who I love very much." This started to calm her down a bit, I guess even crack whores have a sense of decency but almost instantaneously I was called out by my two friends in the front seat as a fraud. Once again T started her sexual advances and once again I was forced to resort to finding ways to get her to stop. I informed T that I had no money on me and would not be able to pay her for her services, but at this she had her hand down my shirt pocket and had a firm grasp on my remaining cash. At this point, T believed that I was a wealthy man, and was now attempting to get to know me in the Biblical sense. I tried to reassure her that my financial state was not lucrative and I could not afford the 25 dollar fee and once again T's sense of decency began to reveal itself as she was about to give me my money back and leave me alone for good. I was just a few seconds away from freedom, when the two jackasses in the front spoke up again. This time they were offering me 20 bucks a piece to take up on T's offer. Despite the opportunity to make an easy 40 bucks, I passed and eventually T's promiscuous behavior came to an abrupt end as we were pulling up to her apartment. At this point, Mike's car was surrounded by a group of homeboys that were all dressed alike, that is until T stepped out of the car, showed off her 9 and assured the homeboys that we were cool. At this point we sped off into the night and I made sure to drink another bottle of Mr. Daniels finest whiskey to help erase the memories of a lovely lady named T.

I didn't think it was possible, but last night, Joe Flacco looked more uncomfortable and awkward playing quarterback than he does in his Pizza Hut commercials.

Home Alone

I spent a few minutes on my Thanksgiving morning watching an old classic, "Home Alone." Eventually, football came on and I was forced to change the channel, because if a grown ass man is watching "Home Alone" when a football game is being aired, well there are some definite issues there. Quite frankly, "Home Alone" was probably the better option because Aaron Rodgers and the Packers handed the Detroit Lions another embarrassing Thanksgiving Day loss, but that's besides the point, football is football. Anyways, the movie did remind me of one thing and that is sometimes being home alone is simply amazing. I'm home alone right now and I don't think its possible for me to be enjoying myself anymore. Five minutes ago, I took a shit with the door open and put the television to full blast so I could hear the action of the LSU game. Prior to my bowel movements, I probably spent twenty minutes walking around the house in nothing but a towel. The towel fell off several times and as a result of being home alone, there was no sense of urgency to pulling the towel back up to my waist. Right now, I am blogging, eating nachos and drinking soda, while watching the game. Typically, if the parental units were in the house, my father would be yelling at me for being lazy and having food and drink around the computer. But right now I can do what I want without any trouble, I just gotta keep the nacho cheese off the keyboard.

A short entry today, but I want to leave all the dedicated readers with a prelude to my next entry. It will be in honor of my blog's one year anniversary and it should be a special one. Hint: it involves a trip to the block and a lady named T. It's going to be a dandy.


The righteousness of Tim Tebow infuriates me.

A Poker Game Where the Jacoby's Would be Considered High Rollers

I believe it was January of last year when I wrote about playing a $5 poker game with the Jacoby's. Since that night, I've been invited over on several occasions by Luke to once again join in on some underground gambling, but for some reason or another, I have yet to make it out to one of these outings. To be quite honest, I would most definitely there again, the Jacoby's are truly some some good people, and poker is always entertaining, even if it is an utterly pointless game. Nevertheless, the other day, I decided to log onto my Full Tilt poker account, for mere shits and giggles. After signing in, I noticed that I actually had 97 cents to my name. So I did the only thing reasonable one could do on Full Tilt with a 97 cent bankroll, I played a game of no limit Texas Hold Em with the blinds at one and two cents. It didn't take long for me to pick up on the silliness of this game. The most amusing thing here, was the utter morons who would somehow find a way to get pissed off when their Kings or Aces were cracked by 2-7 off-suit. They would bitch and bitch like a bunch of Eagles fans regarding Andy Reid's inexplicable clock management. They would complain about playing with "donkeys" and type ridiculous comments into chat room. Eventually, I got busted by one of these so called "donkeys" and was forced to leave the game, just 32 cents short of 6 bucks, which would have been enough to gain entry into a decent tournament, where one could make some actual money. I'm not going to tell you the whole bad beat story, because I'm quite convinced that one part of hell is made up of people telling you their bad beat stories.I guess what I'm trying to say is poker is quite the silly game, and if you want to bitch about "poor play" at least go to a game that is not full of broke desperate people or a game where a significant raise is 15 cents, because even the Jacoby's will raise a quarter.

I've noticed a lot of people have shown excitement over the Ravens recent decision to part ways with kicker Steven Hauschka and I can see where there coming from but I don't totally agree. Granted, Hauschka had his obvious problems, but cutting Hauschka left the Ravens with a hole in their roster and I don't think Billy Cundiff is the solution to the Ravens problems. Cundiff, who most recently played for the Cleveland Browns, goes through jobs in the NFL like I go through jobs in the greater Baltimore metropolitan area and if theres a starter on the Ravens with a work history comparable to that of my own, well we got issues.

Thanksgiving Eve and a High School Reunion

I signed into that website where people like to do silly things suck as poke people and noticed an invitation to my six and a half year high school reunion. For reasons I can't explain, my graduating class decided to go against the social norm and not have the typical five year reunion. It probably has something to do with just the general laziness of 20 somethings, but either way,someone decided to make up for lost time and schedule one after nearly seven years. As of now, I'm not 100% sure if I will be attending or not. I don't really see the point, I still socialize with a good majority of my high school classmates on a regular basis. Typically, I see them out at the bars on the weekends or square up against them in fantasy football. Plus, there's the fact that Towson High basically has an annual high school reunion in Towson on Thanksgiving Eve, at one of the various bars located along York Road and
that night is rapidly approaching.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, Turkey Day will be the one year anniversary of my blog and it was the events of last Thanksgiving Eve that led me to starting this damn thing. When an unknown female kindly pulls out of her way to offer you a ride home and Creech runs around the bar screaming about screwing fat chicks, one's creativity just reaches new levels. In fact, I spent the majority of my blog devoted to this dame who is so willing to offer complete strangers a ride home. I also spent some time talking about the Lions and it appears that once again they will be getting their asses handed to them on Thanksgiving. So I guess all I need is for another completely random chic to offer me a ride home and it will be an exact repeat of last year. Because the likelihood of me walking home as a result of taking one too many shots with Pat and Andy is very high. The Lions will also most likely lose, and it is pretty safe to say that Creech will also once again find a way to make an ass of himself.


NBA action is now in full swing and there's a kid in Milwaukee who has been lighting up the scoreboard. After spending a year playing basketball in Rome, Brandon Jennings is taking the NBA by storm. His game is somewhat reminiscent of Nick Van Exel, but unlike Van Exel, Jennings actually passes the ball from time to time. In fact, he's succeeded at making Andrew Bogut seem like a viable option at center. And when you have the ability to make a 6"9 center from Austrailia succeed in the Nba, you can flat out ball.

A Trip Down Route 40

Last Saturday, I was helping Matt clear out an old house in Greektown. The job required us to load up my truck with a bunch of garbage and haul it out the county landfill for disposal. As the day neared completion, we decided it was to replenish our bodies with some nutrients. This decision led us to Arby's. No sooner do we order, than we notice there is a guy somewhere in the restaurant talking loudly about his interactions with women. Being that Arby's is a public place and freedom of speech is a Constitutional right we didn't pay much attention to this man. That was until it came time to look for a seat. As we turned the corner, we instantly noticed that there wasn't a soul in the near vicinity of this man. He was talking out loud about promiscuous women and their various behaviors. This seemed quite amusing, so we did the only thing imaginable, found a seat in the near vicinity of that man. Shortly after sitting down, another intriguing development with this man was exposed. On top of talking out loud about loose women, the man was drinking. Not drinking Pepsi or Ice Tea like the majority of patrons at Arby's, but drinking the poor man's Corona, Modelo. Propped on top of his table, was a 12 pack of the Mexican beer. The more he drank, the more he rambled on about women. After a few minutes, the man collected his 12 pack, walked out of Arby's, and began stumbling down the street. Several steps later and he was falling face first down a grassy hill on the side of the road. He eventually gathered himself and managed to walk far enough to get out of eye's view, and our once exciting adventure at Arby's was now over. With the man now gone, we began debating the absolute randomness of this event, but than I realized one key factor. We were on Route 40 and we were only several minutes from Essex.

I saw some picture this week where former Baltimore Oriole Sammy Sosa is doing his best Michael Jackson impersonation. Supposedly, the man is taking some kind of skin cream and as a result his skin has turned a ghostly white. This comes as another intriguing turn of events, for the former MVP. A one time first-ballot Hall-of-Fame, Sosa may now go down as a laughing stock and only be remembered for doing the juice, corking his bat, and being white.

The Irish festival is in town this weekend and I may have to stop in to celebrate my Irish heritage. It's been a few years since I've last attended, but anytime you get a bunch of Irish people together, drinking beer, good things are bound to happen.

Andre Agassi Rocks a Hair Piece

I was driving home this morning and listening to "The Herd" on ESPN radio, and host Colin Cowherd made an interesting point during his talk show. He was speaking about Andre Agassi's recent interview with Katie Couric on 60 Minutes. Now, the interview received a lot of publicity because during the interview, Agassi admitted to using crystal meth. He also admitted that he absolutely hated playing tennis. Despite these two rather surprising confessions, Cowherd noted that it was his third confession that was most shocking. Agassi also confessed that he wore a hairpiece while playing in the 1990 French Open. Typically, I tend to disregard the silly opinions of talk show hosts such as Cowherd, but in this particular case, I think he was dead on.

Hearing that Agassi wore a hair piece during the 1990 French Open that was help up with bobby pins is like being told the mullet that Billy Ray Cyrus rocked when he sung "Achy Breaky Heart" was a fake. It just doesn't seem right. I guess hair really does matter. Only if Barry Bonds had a jerry curl.

There are certain athletes out there who really merit the word "Fuckin" being inserted as their middle name and Tony Romo is certainly atop that list.I'm pretty sure Tyson uttered those same exact words, as Romo led the Cowboys to a dramatic fourth quarter comeback against the Eagles. His touchdown to Miles Austin also helped me secure a 1 point victory over Doin Juice in fantasy football. Tony Fuckin Romo.

Manu Ginobli Impersonates Van Helsing

Recently, the popular social networking site known as Facebook, has really started to irritate me. It's gotten to the point, where I have even debated deleting the whole thing in general. Seriously, they keep giving me advice on people to reconnect with or poke in an attempt to make facebook better, and to be quite honest, I'm more likely to become the spokesperson for PETA, than I am to establish some desire to reconnect to some of these people or poke some guy who was in my eighth grade health class. Social networking, it's silly.

Speaking of PETA, they've managed to make news again in the sporting world. This time, they are up in arms against Manu Ginobli for swatting down a bat during the middle of the Spurs-Kings game. In a statement released to the press, PETA accused Ginobli of not having a heart for a humbler animal and thats just silly. Now, I have never met Manu so I couldn't tell you if he has a good heart or not, but in my mind, and hopefully in the minds of any respectable human being, swatting down a flying bat that is interfering with your health and work, is not a sign of a despicable human being. Oh and just for the record, Manu had to get vaccinated after the game, so both the human and the bat suffered, at least the bat looked cool on instant replay though. As for the whole highlight, I'd put it a few notches below the time when the Big Unit crushed a pigeon with a fastball, that was awesome.

I watched the first episode of this new television show "The League" on FX and it was actually pretty comical. It basically revolves around a bunch of thirty-somethings who take fantasy football too seriously and their upcoming fantasy football season. At times it may seem a bit unrealistic and over dramatic, but it's almost dead on. If you don't believe me go to a bar on Sunday that has Sunday Ticket and watch the number of pathetic guys getting over-excited for that last minute touchdown in garbage time, and you will realize the validity of the show. The sad thing is though, I'm making fun of fantasy football players, when I run my own league, and play in three others, so I guess I'm just as pathetic, but oh well, it helps me pass the time.

Employees Must Wash Their Genitals

With a quick glimpse before I signed into this site, I was able to notice that my blog is currently advertising merchandise for the Seattle Seahawks and I found this as odd. In this blog, I have on numerous times mentioned the Ravens and Brett Favre. I have even brought up several references for my intense dislike and hatred of Michael Vick and the Philadelphia Eagles, but never before, have I mentioned the Seattle Seahawks. It's not that I have problems with the Seahawks or anything, they just happen to be a team that no one really seems to care for, at least in the greater Baltimore metropolitan area. Unless your a gambling addict and are hoping the Seahawks cover the spread or a fantasy football junkie and where frustrated with Matt Hasselbeck's performance last week, there is no real reason for you to show any faint sign of interest in the Seahawks. However, there is at least one Seahawks fan in the general vicinity of Towson and she happens to sport a personalized jersey.

Now, personally, I am far from the biggest fan of personalized jerseys. In most cases, they are unoriginal and frankly somewhat pathetic. Granted, there are a few exceptions where personalized jerseys are acceptable and sometimes even deserve merit. One of these cases, is Mama Stills personalized jersey. It simply says "Mama Stills" and Mama Stills is represented with the number one. Now, if you have ever met Mama Stills, you would know that the woman is simply amazing and that no jersey or number could suit someone better. There is even a guy who has Ravens tickets in the vicinity of Andy who has a jersey with the name "Dalia Lama" on the back, and I've grown to accept that. However, one personalized, jersey I have not grown to accept is the one worn by the Seahawks fan I was referring too earlier. This particular Seahawks fan is a woman, and she wears a Seahawks jersey with the name "She Hawk." To make matters worse, she watches every game at Gloomy Days and that combination is just one that is downright miserable. But, every week she wears this horrible creation out to the restaurant as if she thinks she is super creative or something. It's just anything but original and creative. As far as the number for "She Hawk", well I'm not quite sure. Perhaps the number is 69, and she is really representing the name of the star of some low budget lesbian porno featuring Seahawk cheerleaders where the main stars name was "She Hawk." But, that would probably only happen in Carolina, at least the whole lesbian cheerleader thing.


Anyways enough for worthless talk about personalized jerseys and lesbian pornography, and onto something else. Last Sunday, I headed down to the Canton area to meet up with Corey, Ryan, Tyson, and Theo at Caladagh's to watch the Ravens- Vikings game. Once again, the game came down to the final minute, and once again the Ravens lost. I try to stay positive and upbeat, some I'm going to avoid expressing my thoughts on the game and instead focus on what happened after the game. With the game still lingering heavily on our thoughts, Tyson was able to convince me that the best way to get over the loss was a jager bomb and a trip to a place called Busters. Busters is another bar in the Highlandtown area that Tyson has become quite frequent of visiting and it didn't take me long to figure out why he is such a fan. Busters is this small bar, located on the corner of Bouldin and Lombard. It is not to be confused with Clocks, which is the bar in Highlandtown where the toothless old women believe Tyson looks like Joe Flacco. In some aspects, it almost looks like a run down business, as there is no sign indicating the presence of a bar. To gain admittance to Busters, one must be buzzed in from the bartender. And it is once you get inside, that things become interesting. Until Tyson and I stormed in late that Sunday afternoon, the average age of the people drinking in Busters was probably 64. Within a matter of moments, I was introduced to the bartender, a lovely lady named Marg, who loves to sing and has an intense hatred for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Anyways, it didn't take long for Tyson and I to gather the interest of Marg as we were able to convince some of our colleagues to join us for the Busters experience. Soon, Kohler, Beck, Lindsay, Julia, and ADubs were partaking in the awesomeness that is Busters. We proceeded to watch the conclusion of the Jets-Bills game at Busters, which was just ugly, as Mark Sanchez tossed up five interceptions. Eventually, the alcohol started to run it's course and I was forced to head in another direction. However, the next morning, I woke up with one thought.......how in the world does one spend 60 bucks in less than two hours at a bar where the most expensive drink in the house is two bucks??

Supposedly, though Marg was able to make a positive impression on someone other than Tyson or myself and ADubs has become quite the fan of the place. She was supposedly talking to Kohler on Saturday night and whenever he returns from his most recent business trip, there will be another outing at Busters. Count me in for some 2 dollar shots and games of shuffleboard.


Earlier in this post, I mentioned that Mama Stills rocks a personalized jersey with the number one, and the number one got me thinking. So I did the most reasonable thing and googled "athletes who wore the number one." My results led me to a very interesting piece published by Sports Illustrated. The piece listed every number from 00-99, and the best athlete to ever wear that number. For the most part, I agreed with their selections, however I did have a few discrepancies.

#7- John Elway over Mickey Mantle. I know Elway won two Superbowls, led the Broncos on numerous fourth quarter comebacks, and helped define the modern quarterback, but Mantle, won a Triple Crown, personified a nation, and was the backbone of one of the most fearsome 3-4 combos in the history of Major League Baseball in 1961.

#35 Phil Neikro over Rickey Henderson. Granted, Neikro did win 318 games in his major league career, but Henderson is one of the best ever. His record for stolen bases, will never be broken, and he is also baseball's all-time leader in runs and walks.

#45 Pedro Martinez over Bob Gibson- Whenever Pedro retires, he will most certainly be a hall of famer, but he is no Gibson. It's possible, that Gibson is the most intimidating pitcher of all time. Do yourself a favor and google Bob Gibson and 1968.

#91- Sergei Federov over Dennis Rodman. Federov was one of the main centerpieces in the Red Wings run during the 1990's but Rodman was a master of the sport of basketball. Possibly, the greatest rebounder in the history of the sport, Rodman was also a two time defensive player of the year and five time NBA Champion. An all-nba defensive first team selection 7 times, Rodman helped defined the Bad Boys of Detriot and helped Michael Jordan and the Bulls win a record 72 games.

#96- Cortez Kennedy over Pavel Bure. Cortez was a dominating defensive force for the Seahawks, but Bure was simply lightning in a bottle. At 5"10 and only 160 lbs, Bure was amazingly quick and could score goals with ease, twice topping the 60 goal mark in a season. Plus, he banged Anna Kournikova and that alone should give him the nod but if your still not sold, take off his helmet, and he could almost pass for Brann. Although, I don't think Brann is pulling off Anna Kournikova anytime soon, she may be a step up for team Skeezer.

Wally Waltzman

Every so often, well once a month to be exact, the state of Maryland requires that I stop by and chat with this old nasty broad that works for the department of parole and probation. To be honest, I don't really blame her for being old and nasty. Age is something one can't control and I'd imagine being nasty pretty much comes hand in hand with being a parole agent. Anyways, as I was walking out of the building last week and I ran into an old neighbor, none other than Wally Waltzman.

I lived next to Wally for a brief period of time during my sophomore year of high school. During these few short months, I got too know Wally pretty well, even though it may not have been by choice. The man just wouldn't leave anyone alone. He would simply bother every neighbor on the block for hours on end. To make things worse, Wally had no shame whatsoever. There would be certain times, where I would be shooting baskets in the driveway and ol Wally would just hop the fence and come on over and begin rambling on and on about his troubles.

Now, part of the reason that Wally was always walking around the neighborhood, looking for some soul to spill all of his concerns too, was that it his business was struggling. You see, Wally was a traveling watch salesman, and as you can probably imagine, the traveling watch business does not provide one with the most demanding of schedules. I can't quite remember the brand of watches that Mr.Waltzman sold, but I can remember he swore that they were Rolex's newest and biggest competitor. I also remember that he spent lots of time traveling to small rural settings. Rural settings where supposedly the places where Wally could make a killing and get a complete weeks pay done in one day. So every Monday and Tuesday, Wally would travel to places like Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania and Wheeling, West Virginia to do his watch sales. After Wally tore through the wallets of these country folks, he would return home to Hampton to pester his neighbors for the remainder of the week.

Anyways, my parents eventually moved, and I was forced to part ways with Wally. That is until last week, when I saw Wally walking into the office of parole and probation. He was there because he supposedly had a bit too much too drink trying to make a sale recently, and as a result got slammed for a DUI. However, I was able to find out, that Wally has moved on from the world of watches and is now selling water filtration systems and is finally making the big bucks. He told me he could get me a job and I could be making 100,000 grand in only a few years, but for some reason I wasn't interested.

"What you talkin bout Willis?"

Typically when it comes to television, my focus is shifted solely towards Sportscenter and sporting events. As a result of this tendency, I have not taken full advantage of Comcast's On Demand option as so many of my friends have. However, this past week, I was informed of a television show that is currently on Comcast, and I couldn't be more pleased. The sitcom of a one-time hopeful for the Governor's seat of California, is currently being aired on Comcast. Diff'rent Strokes is being featured On Demand, and when it comes to tv stars, there are few as entertaining as Arnold Jackson. Too bad Gary Coleman, couldn't be more like Arnold Jackson in real life, because the political tag team of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Arnold Jackson would be mesmerizing.

Stunning development in the world of fantasy football. Last week, the man who drafted a kicker and defense in the first two rounds, delivered the Toyota Biggest Fantasy Football blowout of the week by crushing Mike Fick's Shockers 163-113. In the words of Sydney Deane "Even the Sun shines on a dog's ass some days."

Last Thursday, I stopped by Bobby's apartment after work to watch the end of what turned out to be quite the disappointing Capitals game. For some reason, Jose Theodore decided it was alright to fall asleep while minding the net, and the Rangers were able to score on two pathetic shots from behind the blue line in the third period. After the embarrassing display though, I ventured out to someplace were people Thank God that its Friday. Shortly, after my arrival, it came to my attention that when the clock strikes 12, everyone at Friday's gets a free shot from a monkey. From out of the kitchen, a giant monkey comes running into the bar, and just starts handing out free shots, like its Christmas or something. Several minutes later, the giant gorilla disappears forever. It can be kinda confusing if you've had a bit too many, but nonetheless, it's quite amusing and if your in the mood for something to do around midnight on a Thursday, I'd recommend checking it out.

Every year around this time, I have resorted to finding a different spot to watch football on Sunday's. Several years back it was the Fick household and Padonia Station. Last year it was Orchard Landing. This year, I have been spending a good bit of time on Sundays at Cladaughs. With their great wing special, and Theo becoming quite the restaurant favorite, it's a great place to watch the Ravens. So if your in the Canton area Sunday, you will know where to find me and if you don't know where Cladaugh's is just listen for Theo cheering when the Ravens score a touchdown.

The Nightmares of Mike McCarthy Come True

Everyone has nightmares. Certain fears that keep them up at night or cause them to awake with the chills. Last night, the nightmares of Mike McCarthy, Mark Murphy, and Ted Thompson came true as Brett Favre demoralized the tough Packers defense with an aerial assault in front of millions watching Monday Night Football. Midway during the second quarter, the cameras focused in on an overwhelmed McCarthy, who looked to be cursing Brett Favre, and the rest of the football gods. It wasn't too long ago that McCarthy, Murphy, Thompson and the rest of the Packers organization offered Favre millions of dollars, to stay retired, Favre resisted the offer, and the Packers did the next most reasonable thing, trade him to a team in the AFC East. Trade him to a team hundreds of miles away, in hopes that they would never have to go face-to-face with the living legend. Their plan failed. A year later, Brett Favre had no contractual obligations, and found himself back in the division where he once reigned. Back in the NFC North, although this time as a member of the Minnesota Vikings, a team that desperately wanted him in 2008 as well.

If you were watching last night's game, it shouldn't have taken you long too realize that it was Favre's night. Although, the Vikings are most certainly Adrian Peterson's team, last night was Favre's moment to shine, and there was no greater spotlight than Monday Night Football. How else can you explain a one yard touchdown pass, when you have the most dominant athlete in the game in your backfield. With each completed pass and each of his three touchdown's, Favre's jubilant behavior was expressed to millions of viewers. His love for the game is still there, and he proved last night against a stout defense, that he can still win the game with his arm. As for the Packers, you can definitely argue that they made the right call. Aaron Rodgers is a fine young quarterback, and he put up some pretty stealthy numbers himself last night. The man threw for nearly 400 yards, and managed to make the game somewhat interesting towards the end. Had he not of been hampered by a weak offensive line, and the presence of Jared Allen, things may have been different. But either way, when a living legend, steps out of retirement, to play in the division, that he was once the heart and soul of, one word comes to mind. Revenge. Just wait till November when Favre marches into Lambeau. It should be one for the ages.

The sad thing is, for some reason, most people seem to dislike Brett Favre, now, and I consider that to be somewhat of an outrage. The man has done nothing but embrace the game of football, step up in the spotlight, and do whatever it takes for his team to win. Did anyone catch the block Favre laid on Patrick Willis in Week 3? Supposedly, it has something to do with him scarring his legacy by stepping out of retirement multiple times. There's some thought process created somewhere, that athletes are supposed to retire at the prime of their ability, and go off into the wind on top of the world. Well, that's a bunch of bullshit, and the only reason your mad about Favre still playing, is because the media played too much damn attention to it. Michael Jordan came back to play with the Wizards and they were horrible. Muhammad Ali kept boxing way past his prime. Rickey Henderson, played for the Long Island Ducks at age 45. There may only be a few people that read this blog, that even know the Long Island Ducks were a professional team. The truth of the matter is Brett Favre is only 39 years old and is still working hard. Ask the average 39 year old in the working force, if they could contemplate retirement for several months, and than decide at the last minute to come back and make millions......Umm don't because you would be wasting your time, they would, you would, get over it, already.

It wasn't long ago that I predicted that when Favre faces Green Bay for the first time he will put up some pretty hefty numbers. I even mentioned that whoever drafted him in fantasy should put him in as a sure fire starter. However, I failed to do that last night. I guess it had something to do with the fact, that I was playing a guy who drafted Sebastian Janikowski with the first overall pick.

Running the Charity Gambling Wheel At Purple Patio

Thanks to some guy named Craig and his list, I was able to part ways with my Sunday in the Country ticket, and instead partake in tailgating festivities at M&T Bank Stadium. So early Sunday morning, I met up with Corey, Bennett, and Tyson to head down to the stadium and get the day off to a proper start. Well, at least Corey, Tyson, and I got the day off to a proper start. Towards the end of the cab ride, and right in the middle of our cab driver's rant on sacrificing cows to Indian gods, Big Body released a barrage of curse words so obscene, that even Howard Stern may have shook his head in dismay. We soon found out that Bennett somehow managed to forget his sky box ticket at the house. Thankfully, for Bennett's sake that is, Kohler saved his day and was willing to pick the kid up and drop him back off at the stadium.

Once we ditched Bennett for greener pastures, we found ourselves at Wyman's tailgate. After a few games of corn hole, a few jello shots, some last minute fantasy football changes, and a couple rounds of Jack, it was game time, which meant Corey and I were headed to the Purple Patio at Mothers, and this is where things got a lil' bit dicey.

Shortly, after our arrival to Mother's, we decided to venture outside, to take in some of the outdoor activities that the bar has to offer. It wasn't long before Corey stumbled his way over to the gambling wheel, which is quite typical of the man, if there's a gambling wheel to be found, Corey is usually not too far away. The gambling wheel was designed to garner support for a charity of some sort, and within a matter of a few moments, the lazy and irresponsible volunteers wandered away, to go mingle with the crowd, or basically to be pathetic, drunken whores. With the gambling wheel now being left unattended, and the liquid confidence really starting to hit it's peak, Corey did the only thing appropriate, he stepped behind the wheel, and took control. Twenty minutes later, the man was up nearly 70 bucks, and the degenerate gamblers were starting to throw their money away like Jake Dellhome throws the pigskin away. At this point, the head of the charity organization returned to the wheel in an outrage, demanding Corey's immediate removal and the money back. Being the upstanding citizen that he is, he rightfully handed the repugnant whore her money back and was soon on his way. A few minutes later, the security at Mother's is scanning the bar, looking to kick out the Raven's fan who steals from a charity, and we realized our time at Mother's may soon be up. Corey and Shea even switched jerseys in an attempt to be inconspicuous, but alas Corey was spotted and not so kindly escorted out of the building. Several minutes later, and even after successfully convincing a manager at the bar to let him back in, I was being escorted out by a large black man, wearing a shirt three sizes to small.

With Mother's no longer an option, we headed to Ropewalk, where Shea greeted us with a couple of Bud Lights and some not so friendly shots of Rumplemints, and after that round the memory gets a bit blurry. However, the night was far from over, as after a brief power nap and some Spartan's delivery, Tyson showed up on Bouldin Street. It wasn't long before Tyson was convincing me to walk down the street to some dive bar in Highlandtown. Supposedly, Tyson had become quite familiar with the regulars there, and he was a big fan of the place. Upon our immediate arrival, ol' Tyson was caressed by numerous elderly women, who were missing their teeth, and quite set on the Flacco that Tys is the mirror image of Joe Flacco, despite the obvious differences in stature. I failed to see the resemblance, but Tys seemed to love every minute of it, and I wasn't going to interrupt the kid's moment of glory. With the Colts game getting out of hand, and the Jager Bombs, starting to catch up, I soon decided it was time to call it a night. Tyson didn't have the same mindset, and I was forced to let him fly solo in this dive bar, and I'm a bit worried as to how the rest of his night went, but I don't think I'm going to ask any questions the next time I see him. Anyways, Tyson had his heart set of watching a Ravens road game their some time in the near future, and I believe we decided that the Pittsburgh game would be the perfect road game to re-visit this dive bar, so if your ever down to visit a dive bar in Highlandtown with toothless old women, feel free to join, because Tyson and I will most definitely be there.

The Alabama Black Snake Visits South Carolina

Recently in this blog, I have discussed the possibility of a road trip and a dramatic event in the summer of 2006 involving my Jeep. In this entry, I am going to merge those two ideas together and talk about a 2006 road trip. The destination was Myrtle Beach, South Carolina and the trip was epic. Lgabell's family owns a condo down there and she was gracious enough to extend an invite to a few of her friends to enjoy a week in the sun in mid July. Corey, Julia, and Lgabell all took full advantage of the opportunity and headed down for the full week. As for myself, I could only make a long weekend out of it, but was able to pick up a few stragglers to enjoy the drive down I-95 with, and those stragglers were Bennett, Mike Major, and none other than Drew DahDah.

As the trip neared, I was stoked when I heard the news that Lindsay was out of town and Bennett would be driving her Passat. However, when it came time to depart Baltimore, this news turned out to be only a mirage, as Lindsay was in fact still in town, and there would no stealing of the Volkswagen, leaving us with the Jeep. The only positive thing about Lindsay being in town, was the chocolate chip cookies she made us for the journey. Anyways, it wasn't long before Bennett and I soon realized, that an eight hour drive with Major and DahDah in the backseat of your car seems like an eternity, because the two do nothing but rant about nonsense and your brain sorta just turns to mush after awhile. Thankfully, though Bennett had a tin of skoal and manned the wheel the entire way down. I swear, the kid want's to be a long haul truck driver someday. Not too mention he's got a great taste in music and the songs of Kenny Chesney and Alabama were able to tune out the babbling duo in the back. We also noticed on the ride down that poor Corey must have been overrun by estrogen, in the three days he had spent alone with Laura and Julia, because he must have called us every thirty minutes on the regular to check up on our estimated time or arrival, just praying for a dosage of testosterone to help him feel like a man again. After quite the long journey, we did eventually arrive and the real shenanigans were soon underway.

With the whole crew now comfortably set up in the condo, it wasn't long before trouble and nonsense came about. Typically, it started with some fierce games of 500 rummy, as Julia was quite displeased with her inability to win, the way I hold my cards, or the fact that I tend to sit Indian style. As the rummy matches begin to cease, the Alabama Black snake emerged, as Mike Major graced us all with his homo erotic dance skills and a peep show. The man was able to defend these dance moves though as he impressed a horde of strippers on Highway 17, and earned us a free bucket of Corona's. DahDah, was no where to be found that night though, because supposedly Drew DahDah in a strip club is like a kid in a candy store, and he would have been all lost and googly eyed staring down the strippers without a clue what to do.

Lost amidst the strippers and free dance shows, were the Levi builders of 69 and 72, Scottish dudes, Superman being put to shame at Club Kryptonite, and a few intense games of miniature golf. The trip concluded with Corey and Major, stealing the infamous vault as we ran down the street, drinking forties,homeless men, and late night swims. Today, the vault still rests on Sean's deck, collecting dust, and South Carolina only serves as a memory of time well spent.

The Orioles play host to Boston tonight, and it is the last Friday night game of the season, and if you know me at all, you should know that I will be in the vicinity of Pickles and Sliders prior to the start of the game. To make things more interesting, my main Matt Wieters has been on an absolute tear as of late, visiting Eutaw Street on Tuesday, and hitting the first walk-off home run of his career on Wednesday. Hopefully, he continues the heroics tonight, and hopefully for my sake, there are no repulsive aliens from Frederick in attendance.

A Dispicable Steeler's Fan

After witnessing an embarrassing incident last night involving two customers at Glory Days, I am further in believe that football fans from the state of Pennsylvania are quite possibly some of the worst human beings on the face of the earth. I was strolling around the bar area, shortly after Rob Bironas attempted field goal was blocked in the first half and caught wind of a Steeler fan argueing with a middle aged woman, who was sporting a Ravens jersey. According to the bartender Jay, the Steeler fan, supposedly had said something in regards to the overall excellence of the Steeler defense following the block and the woman responded by saying that it had nothing to do with defense, Bironas simply missed the kick. This woman, continued to argue that Bironas missed the kick, and that a blocked field goal was in no way shape or form, a good play for the defense. After a few seconds of this rediculous claim, this Steeler's fan became enraged and unleashed a barrage of insults and curse words onto this middle aged woman in defense of his arguement. It was so intense and offensive, that this woman began to back away from her statement and was almost brought to the point of tears. At this point, the guy started to laugh at her expense and began to talk trash about Ravens' fans. Eventually, the guy settled down and went back to drinking his beer quietly and simply being a horrible person. Now, usually I would not rip into someone who got a little adamant after a few beers when someone made an absurd claim, but if the someone making the erroneous claim is a friendly middle aged woman suffering from down syndrome, well than buddy, your an asshole, and quite possibly the worst human being on earth. Get the fuck out my restaurant, and go hang out with Osama Bin Laden and child molesters. Perhaps some karma was sent your way, when that long haired bastard in your backfield went down with an injury. Dispicable.

Recently, when I have been hanging out with a group of friends, I have been questioned about the number of older people I associate with on a regular basis. Some of my friends, seem perplexed as to what would lead me to do such a thing. Personally, I believe if one is determined to keep all their friends in a specific age bracket, than they are silly, but perhaps that's just me. Anyways, I am now going to jot down a list of the so called older people that I associate with on a regular basis.

Jamal- Somehow he has escaped this classification, perhaps it is due to the vibrant colors he sports everytime he goes out, dynamic attitude, or overall awesomeness, but either way, Jamal falls into this category because he is a bit older and isn't even the youngest person on the list. Which brings us to......


Kevin- Walk into Glory Days sometime between 2 and 5 and you will most likely find, Kevin drinking a Budweiser and sitting at the bar by himself. The mirror image of Sean O'Connor, Kevin is a 32 year old trust fund baby, who spends more time getting to know each and every female Glory days employee in the Biblical sense, than he does actually working. The son of a dedicated and hard nosed businessman, Kevin is the polar oppostie. Either way though, the man is quite amusing, could sell ice to Eskimos, and is fun to drink with.


Tedd- Perhaps the most influetial person on here, because he possibly saved my life with a few words of advice. If it weren't for him, it might just burn every time I pee. While I have agreed to let Google post some advertisements on my blog, Tedd is also the only person I know who has been giving free advertising. His photography website is linked on my main page, and it is also possible that he is the only boss I've ever had that actually still likes me. As for now, I will just leave him to pester Lindsay about my whereabouts.

Pat- Hands down the nicest and most decent person on this list. No offense to anyone else that is mentioned, but when it comes to the overall deceny of people, there are few that are better than Pat. I feel bad for him in some ways, because for the past ten years he has had to work for a horrible Greek person. Pat, is also perhaps, the sole reason, I believe the Kent Lounge is the best bar ever.

Damon- If Pat is the best person on this list, Damon is by far the worst. Right now, I'm sure you can find the man drinking beer and wagering on sports somewhere in San Antonio. He has claimed that if he were to ever walk into a church it would burn down. That being said if I ever visit New York, end up on an episode of Cash Cab, and get to a question where I need to call someone for advice, he will be the first person I call, no matter the subject, no questions asked.

Steve- Possibly the person on this list, I've spent the least amount of time talking to, but it was his prescence last weekend that sparked this conversation, so the man deserves mention.

Mike Hupp- I'm not really sure if that's how you spell his last name, but that's what I'm going with. The only member of this crew to belong to the prestiged Towson Elks community, which he routinely promises he will take me to one day. If you ever see me taking a shots where ducks are farting, you can most definitely know that Hupp is not far.

Jay- I'm going to bring this list to a conclusion with Jay. Like Damon you can most likely find him in a bar somewhere, wagering on sports, however unlike Damon, Jay does not win. Every day he has a new pick that is the so called "Lock of the Century" and every day he is flabbergasted when they somehow fall short. I usually give Jay my hellos and how are you's and by that point, I've become so aggravated it is now time to resort to mocking the man.

A Roadtrip to Vegas, to Kick Off the New Millennium

Shortly following my third and final fantasy draft, I stopped by to check in on Tyson and Stilling for a minute, and to little surprise the topic of conversation soon drifted to football. As the conversation progressed, Tyson and I began dabbling into the possibility of planning an upcoming road trip. Now, the sole purpose of this road trip would be to attend a Raven's game in an opposing team's stadium. Minnesota, Green Bay, Cleveland, and Cincinnati, were all discussed as possible destinations. The discussion soon began to pick up some heat as we discussed who would possibly join on us in this weekend long adventure and it wasn't long before half of Towson was mentioned. Townsend and Ross were two key components in this equation, as I had spent part of the afternoon discussing this idea with Townsend, and we all know what happened the only time I ever took a road trip with Ross. At some point,Tyson came across a Ravens schedule and it wasn't long before he had his heart set on a certain trip. Tyson wanted to travel to Vegas for New Years Eve and than catch another flight to Oakland for the Ravens final regular season game on January 3rd against the Raiders. Stilling and I began to express our concerns, specifically financial concerns, as a New Year's in Vegas could take a toll on the wallet. Despite our thoughts, Tyson was still quite adamant about the whole idea, and refused to back down. At this point he offered these few words of wisdom, "Stills, it's 2010, it's the start of a whole new millennium, and it's Vegas, c'mon!" Or something similar to that, the man was kinda slurring his words at this point, but I got the basic gist of what he was trying to say. To make things clear, I would without a doubt love to head to Vegas for New Years with Tyson, Townsend, and Ross, especially to kick off the start of a new millennium, but I was stuck with three main concerns: 1. The whole financial aspect, as previously discussed. 2. If Tyson, Towsnsend, Ross, and I were to ever embark out west to visit Sin City, well I think it's almost a sure fire guarantee, that one of us will either end up dead, lost, in jail, or without shoes. Most likely all four will occur, and I'm sure the events that would have taken place would make the movie "The Hangover" seem like amateur hour and 3. We still have 90 years to the new millennium, and I'm not quite sure that any of us are going to make it to 114.

Now, as for the road trip, I am still all about it. In my mind, Cleveland and Cincinnati seem the most plausible as they are within driving distance. Plus, by the time the Ravens travel to Ohio both the Bengals and Browns should be eliminated from playoff contention, therefore drastically dropping the price of tickets. Also, the timing would allow us to get together a good group of people for a road trip, and a good core of people is hands down essential for a quality road trip. So with this post, I am hereby inviting any interested partakers, and hopefully we can make this whole thing happen. Cleveland may be the most intriguing possibility, because with Cleveland comes the Moos brothers, Monday Night Football, and Big Rob.

Lately, whenever I have been in social settings, the topic of Halloween has been brought forth. It isn't even mid September, and people are already planning their costumes. As for me, I'm not too worried about my costume just yet, I'm sure I will come up with something interesting and amusing, my biggest concern, however, is that this year I manage to stay out of Mexican gay bars in downtown Baltimore. Although, the tequila flows rather freely in those establishments.

With the first pick of the 2009 Yahoo Fantasy football fantasy draft, Soiled Panties selects kicker Sebastian Janikowski of the Oakland Raiders.

A Few Things I Believe, A Few Things I wonder......

I believe that the Orioles will contend for the World Series in 2011. I'm not saying they will win the damn thing or even take the A.L. pennant but with some maturation of our young arms and bats, we will be a serious threat. I could probably write a whole blog on the extent of this statement, but I may save that for another day.

I wonder what the road construction workers from York and Seminary to York and Ridgely do to earn their paychecks. I've been driving for eight years now and there is still always construction. Fix the damn road already.

I believe the Maryland State Fair is an under appreciated yearly event in Timonium. With that in mind, I will most likely miss out on the opportunity to attend once again this year.

I wonder if Corey will once again make an appearance at the Maryland State Fair, squander nearly 200 dollars in an effort to win at the ball toss game, and spend the next few weeks debating on whether or not he should give up the scanning business in hopes of becoming a traveling carnie.

I believe that all bar scenes are basically the same. Granted, there are your obvious differences between Mosiac and the Kent Lounge, but in the end, it's simply a bunch of people, wasting their money, to try and have a few drinks, relax, enjoy their time spent with their friends, and perhaps meet new people. Those of you who believe you are too good or too old or too young to drink at a certain establishment, well, get over yourself girlfriend, your just not that hot.



I wonder what would have happened if Bo Jackson, never injured his hip. Just give him the ball in Tecmo Super Bowl and you will see what I mean.

I believe that country music, when sung at a fast pace, and by a man, is God's gift to music. I don't know what it is about women's country music, or slow country music, but I just can't do it. That being said, Taylor Swift is still worth watching.


I wonder if Creech, Baby Creech, and Brann, were really on Busted. Seriously, I've spent hours searching MTV and the Internet and found no signs of this statement being true. Many of friends have done the same thing in a attempt to see the Creech household on MTV, and all have failed in the process.


I believe that ADD is a myth. It's not that you can't focus, you just don't want too. Work and school are just not as much fun as the five straight hours you spent tuned into a video game or wrapped up in another hobby of yours. In no way shape or form am I saying that Adderall or Concerta, does not work, it's just simply steroids for students and those working outside of Major League Baseball and the World Wrestling Federation.

I wonder why some people are Atheists or believe in the theory of the Big Bang. Do you really think a bunch of gases somehow got mixed together and were able to bring us the likes of Flava Flav, Dennis Rodman, and Joan Rivers.

I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontang are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe that there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning, rather than Christmas Eve, and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."

Well not really all that, I just stole that from Crash Davis, and I believe that Bull Durham is the greatest sports movie ever written and if anyone truly writes a movie about baseball without finding a spot for Kevin Costner, they have screwed up. Also I was running short on time and had to bring an end to this nonsense somehow.

If He Can Do That With Only One Ball.......

Certain people have the ability to gather massive amounts of hype and exposure from the mere idea of their sole presence. Just take a look at the whole Brett Favre ordeal, the man's possible return to the NFL was one of the main topics in the world of sports media throughout the whole summer. Another person who has reached that pinnacle of fame visited Baltimore this weekend. After several unfulfilled promises, and much speculation, the Pharmacist finally graced Baltimore with his presence. While my time spent with the pharmacist was limited, he was able to live up to all the hype. Whether it was his obnoxiously loud consumption of Sun Chips that led to my abrupt awakening at 5 in the morning as to the overall safety of 615 South Curley street or his in-depth discussion of the finer details of his retail business, amusement was never far behind. As a result of his trip, an abunduance of girls in the Towson area have been sexually harrassed by Steve in a attempt to get the Pharmacist laid, and as one would would expect, there were supposedly quite a few takers. I mean, any man who boldy rocks an Albert Einstein shirt to the bar, should be able to pull off mad trim.

Speaking of mad trim, any man who rocks a pink bandanna, neon green button down, while blaring Ja Rule in a 1980's convertible mustang, should not be able to pull down mad trim. Although he may still be eating burritos at the Chipotle next to Pasta Mista and Panera on Boston Street, where I supposedly ate a numerous amount of times last summer, and not quite trying to pull down mad trim. Either way it's just a thought.

The football season is rapidly approaching us and the fantasy action is starting to heat up. At weekend's end, I found myself one draft down, with two to go. Unfourtunately, there were some technical difficulties on Sunday and Big Body and I were forced to resort to the Yahoo defualt league, but I will make do.

Speaking of Brett Favre, football, and fantasy football, come week 8, when the Vikings travel to Lambeau, I'd reccomend inserting the man who once pursued Cameron Diaz into the starting lineup. Brett Favre, in Green Bay, in a Viking uniform seems to equal bad news for the Packers, at least in my mind.

I recently finished reading Lance Armstrong's book "It's Not About the Bike" with Sally Jenkins and must say I reccomend to anyone that is literate. It's a quick read and it actually made me develop an interest in competitive biking. Any man who can dominate his sport like none other, survive cancer, and pull off Sheryl Crow deserves two thumbs up in my book. Now, it's on to reading about the trials and tribulations of Donald Trump.

Team Skeezer Is Introduced to Online Dating

I couldn't sleep the other night, and started browsing through television stations hoping to find something amusing enough to garner my interest until I drifted off to never never land, and sure enough the Versus channel came through with a dandy. They were broadcasting a movie about one of the greatest basketball duo's to ever graze the court. Sidney Deane and Billy Hoyle, the salt and pepper street hustling duo that made themselves famous on the blacktops of Los Angeles. For those of you who are a little behind and not quite catching my drift, Sidney Deane and Billy Hoyle are the stars of one of the greatest American sports films of all-time, White Men Can't Jump. At some point during the movie there is a scene, where Sidney who is played by Wesley Snipes, issues a challenge to two potential suitors, proudly boasting that he could beat these two guys with the help of any other guy watching, telling his challengers to select his teammate. Now, this appeals to the interest of the opposition and they begin grazing the court for Sidney's partner, and to no one's surprise they select Billy, who is sitting down nearside, sporting a Wayne Gretzky jersey and backwards cap. Instantly, Billy proves that he truly is one of the best gunners of Louisiana college basketball since Pistol Pete, and him and Sidney easily handle their two competitors. The movie has plenty of other interesting scenes, but it was this particular one that got me thinking.

If a similiar situation were to unravel today in the world of professional sports, who would be the most unlikely superstar? After a brief mental debate, I once again landed in the sunny state of California. Although this time, we travel to San Francisco, and find a man named Tim. Tim Lincecum that is, the star right handed pitcher of the San Francisco Giants, whose long hair and physical stature couldn't strike fear into the heart of a young kitten, but his imposing fastball and swooping curve have struck fear into lineups across the National League. In all seriousness, Tim Lincecum looks more like a kid who would suffer health problems from a 27 hour binger on World of Warcraft than that of a man hard pressed to be a back-to-back Cy Young Winner. For some reason I could just picture a few guys on a baseball diamond somewhere, talking lots of smack, and one guy saying anybody on the field could strike you out, and that guy surveying his options and selecting Lincecum. At which point, this dude would be bamboozled and probably fall over in the batter's box. But anyways, I just wanted to throw out my props to the long haired righty, who does a better job resembling that dude from Dazed and Confused, than an intimdating prescence such as Bob Gibson on the mound, that is of course until you step into that batter's box.


I was enjoying the finer parts of an Orioles baseball game the other evening, and that finer part is the outside area surrounding Pickles and Sliders, when somehow a conversation arose that gathered my interest. It was regarding this woman's quest to find love via the internet. As you may know, I have ventured into my thought's on online dating twice now, once in regards to a former roommate of Julia, and once in regards to a girl who was hit on by Batman. Nevertheless, this girl began to talk about her feelings on the whole issue and offered a stunning revelation. Supposedly, all the 20 some year old guys that get involved with online dating fall into two catergories. They are either socially awkward or they just want to get laid. For some reason, after six months of paying a social networking site for their services, this girl finally came to this realization. I guess it took six months of paying fees to realize that someone who has to resort to paying a website to create an opportunity for himself to meet women, would be socially awkward. For hells sake, Mike Fick of all people has picked up women in traffic jams and 7-11, and these guys have to pay for the opportunity to describe their best details to a world of discourage women looking for their shot at love. It's a funny place we live in, and I'm sure Jay is out there somewhere surfing the dating websties as we speak. As for the guys out there just to get laid, well that's a whole another ballgame, and I'm not going to go there just now. But for a sidenote, following this conversation Jamal and Bobby signed up and are now representing Team Skeezer via the world wide web. Also, if you feel like a good laugh and listening to good music at the same time, check out Brad Paisley's music video "Online" on YouTube. You won't be dissappointed.

Baby Creech made an appearance in the greater Baltimore metropolitan area, and now that he is a free man he has decided to rock a guido hair cut that can put the fellas from "Growing Up Gotti" and even Matt Payne to shame. Loose women everywhere should be on the lookout, just ask Brann about that one.

"Even the Sun Shines on A Dog's Ass Someday."

Michael Vick Is an Eagle, So Hide Your Beagle!

In one of my more recent posts, I mentioned that I hoped Michael Vick would never play football again in the United States and I firmly believed it when I wrote it. Than Thursday happened and I had a complete change of heart. Michael Vick will now be playing football in the City of Brotherly Love, a horrible place known as Philadelphia and there couldn't be a better fit. The most hated player in all of the NFL gets to go to the city with the most ignorant, disgruntled, and idiotic fans in all of professional sports. A franchise who has never had an opportunity to hoist the Lombardi trophy just signed a once overrated quarterback who hasn't played in nearly three years and will immediately serve as the biggest distraction in Philly since T.O. was in town. The Vick signing further proves that one of my life long theories is right on the money. The only thing good to ever come out of the city of Philadelphia is Rocky Balboa.

On a more positive note regarding Vick, he has managed to do one thing successfully, besides convince Andy Reid that he warrants an opportunity and that is the man has brought out the idiots. Sports talk radio has never been as amusing as it is at this moment. The idiots are coming out from the wood works. I heard one dumb ass compare dog fighting to lynching in the south and another numbskull compare it to hunting. Idiots, their everywhere.

Rumor has it that the pharmacist will be making an appearance in the Baltimore area next weekend and I couldn't be more excited. Hopefully, he shows up at the bar with his Albert Einstein t-shirt that he obtained while grazing the Princeton University Library and pulls off mad trim at the bar and helps further the legend that is the pharmacist even more. I'm sure Steve is having a wet dream about the reuninon right now. As for CVS, Walgreen's, and Wal-Mart they may be a bit worried, because their overall sales of women's deodorant, fabric cleaner's, and other household cleaning supplies, may take a significant hit. Supposedly, there may be some drama unwinding between him and his divorce over the always wonderful Sam Kam, but I hope it is all resolved before week's end.

For the first time in my twenty-four years of life, I witnessed a baseball player hit for the cycle live last night as Felix Pie came through with a triple in the midst of the Orioles rout of the Angels. I was quite surprised I was able to see the cycle unfold actually as there were plenty of distractions all around me. Whether it was 18 year old boys who were obsessed with the awesomeness that is Jamal or Jess's numerous attempts to have people touch her nuts, the distractions were quite frequent, but nonetheless there was plenty of great baseball to be seen.

Strippers and Pre-Season Football

I've received a few phone calls and text messages this week from various people wondering what I have planned for the Ravens-Redskins pre-season game on Thursday. Not too mention, I have seen even more people post stupid status messages on Facebook regarding how excited they are that the NFL season has begun and there is finally football to watch. Despite all this attention, I could not give one rat's ass about pre-season football. It's pointless, the majority of the veterans and more talented players are just half-assing their way through the action so they can receive their paycheck and help the NFL boost revenue. Not one of them gives a damn and the only thing you can truly hope for in the post-season is that a star player does not go down with an injury, but yet their are thousands of football fans who love to talk trash and brag about how well "their" team has looked during the pre-season and it's just a sign of an up and coming Superbowl run. Basically, I consider the NFL pre-season to be along the same lines of a strip club. Thousands of guys across the country go into the game or club with their hopes overly exposed, with their pockets full of cash or their dreams of Byron Leftwich actually becoming the quarterback he was once expected to be out of Marshall, only to come away with the realization that they just blew a boatload of cash on a stripper named Minnie Mouse and are still going home to only the right hand, or the realization that after week 1 of the regular season, Leftwich will once again be exposed as an ungodly immobile quarterback, with a cannon for an arm, no confidence, no accuracy, and very few W's under the belt. The NFL pre-season, it's just not all it's cracked up to be.


I'm looking forward to this weekend because Friday I will get the opportunity to combine a few of my favorite things in life. The Orioles, Pickles Pub, and people. Plus, to make things more exciting Chris Tillman is on the mound and I'm looking forward to seeing the kid pitch. If he develops like he is projected too the Orioles rotation could actually be somewhat formidable next season with him, Bergesen, Hernandez, Matsusz, and whoever the hell else we decide to throw into the mix, most likely the home run friendly Jeremy Guthrie. I may even try and get over to the stadium early, because Mickey Tettleton and Mike Deveraux will be signing autographs, and Mickey Tettleton hold's the bat funny.

Than on Saturday, I am supposed to make an appearance at Mosiac for Bobby's birthday and a 20 dollar holla. The only problem is I am supposed to be a late stay at the Glory Days, which means it is very unlikely that I would get out at a respectable enough time to head down to Powerplant. Despite my problems reaching Powerplant, it seems that the probability of me running into Smedium Saturday night should be very high, because the little bastard has been sneaking into my basement and shacking up in my bed on the regular. So once again I want to send out my apologies to Jess, because the likelyhood of you receiving another late night booty call via text is very probable. The only thing that has yet to be determined is if you will be invited to the couch or to the bed.