Skiing recap

Before I move on from last week’s Denver trip, there are a few more things that I wanted to recap including the skiing and the grand finale that was the 150 mile Denver Micro brewery pub crawl. 

First the skiing.  As I mentioned previously, skiing in Vail was harder on my body than anything I had ever done in my life.  I would classify it as stupid, but skiing in Vail can’t be described as such to anyone other than some stupid ass (me) that goes to the top having never taken a skiing lesson in his life.  After dislocating my shoulder, pulling a muscle in my bicep, banging my helmet covered head on the snow during what had to have been wide world of sportsesque spills on my part, skiing wasn’t really fun to me.  So, needless to say, I wasn’t really looking forward to skiing Winter Park only two days later. 

Friday morning arrived and a huge group of us were set to board the ski train in downtown Denver and take a two hour train ride out to Winter Park for the day.  Waking up at 6am to go skiing is about the dumbest thing you can do during a bachelor party.  Who wants to wake up that early after a night of drinking?  Not this guy.  Needless to say, I was dragging ass that early on Friday.  Things weren’t looking good when I had a hard time getting out of bed due to all the aches from falling on the slopes less than 48 hours before. 

The train ride was a relaxing experience.  The scenery is unreal.  Hard to describe since you are climbing through the mountains where cars don’t go after roughly 20 inches of snow fell just the day before. 

We arrived at Winter Park and headed in to get our ski gear.  By the time I was standing in ski boots and had my skis and poles, I seriously wondered to myself why I was going to be putting my body through this all over again.  As a big group we all headed up the mountain and took some easy runs down together.  I made it through the first run fine, and then we took a second and I finally wiped out.  Got back up and continued down.  Weirdly, things clicked in my mind and I began getting the hang of it.  After a few runs, it dawned on me that skiing is truly a good time if you aren’t constantly falling down.  After my first fall, I continued with the group all morning and was surprisingly able to hang with them.   By the time we reached the top of Mary Jane, the group wanted to head down some more advanced trails and then head up to Parsenn Bowl which is as far up as you can go at Winter Park.  Knowing that this was still only my second time out I didn’t want to ruin a good thing, so I let them all go on without me.  I chilled for a bit up on Mary Jane at the shop and bought myself a 3.00 snickers and a 5.00 gatorade.  I had no idea that the cost of snacks increased exponentially in accordance with elevation.  The higher you go on the mountain the more everything costs.  Within about 15 minutes, I decided that I was ready to do some runs on my own which was a pretty big step for me.  I took Village way and found myself not only able to take on the greens without falling, but I became bored.   The green trails had become almost too easy for me as I continued learning.  I was ready to go down my first blue.

We all met up for lunch at the Lodge at Sunspot.  I didn’t have a full meal but shared in Onion rings, chili-cheese fries, and a beer.  We headed back out now with a combined 8 of us ready to head back up to Parsenn Bowl and I was going to go all the way up to the top this time.  We picked out path to get up to Parsenn and headed out.  As I followed the group, I quickly realized that we were not taking the greens down but heading down a trail called Cranmer that instantly became the most horror filled few moments of my life since it was beyond a doubt the steepest slope I had ever gone on.   I kept turning and trying to slow down and before I knew it I was out of control and wiped out for the second time of the day.  I sat there looking at the rest of the run wondering how on earth I was going to finish it.  I got back up and continued down and made my first blue run with only falling down once.  It was my crowning achievement of the trip. 

 By the time I made it down, none of the group was to be found.  Assuming they all kept on their way I pulled out the map and realized that I was supposed to turn somewhere and didn’t and went all the way down Cramner when I shouldn’t have.    Determined to get back up to the top, I did a few more runs jumping on lifts until I finally met up with the group back up at Mary Jane. 

 Once again, I was having a lot of fun.  I was surprised to see Dan up there with the group since he had finished taking a lesson earlier in the day.  This had been his 7th or 8th time skiing and still didn’t feel comfortable doing anything difficult.  Not wanting to send Dan down on his own, I once again decided to forgo heading all the way up to Parsenn Bowl with the group so Dan and I could continue together on some easier runs.  I was thankful I did.  For the next hour, Dan and I had a blast.  We took on some surprisingly difficult runs at our own speed and had so much fun we decided to head back up and lost complete track of time.  Dan’s cellphone began ringing and it was the rest of our group wondering where we were since it was 4pm and the train was going to be leaving in 15 minutes.  I didn’t panic too hard since I thought we were close to the base when we got that call, but to my surprise, what looked like a short distance turned out to be a lot longer than originally thought.  I ditched Dan towards the end in an attempt to speed my way down.  By the time I got to the bottom, I pulled out my phone to check the time and was relieved when it read that it was still a quarter to four.  Meaning I still had 30 minutes to turn in my gear. 

I pulled a few photos from the trip. 

This was pretty much me 20 times in Vail.  This is after I had wiped out and decided I was going to take a while to get up. 

This was the view past my feet.  As beautiful as it is to anyone, it is actually quite horrifying to someone that hasn’t skied before. 

This is the view from Mary Jane at Winter Park.  The picture points up to Parsenn Bowl. Only blue and black trails lead to the lift and only blues or blacks to come down.  Definitely not the right place for a second time skier. 

This photo was from Mary Jane before we begun heading down. Yep, I don’t look much like a skier, that’s for sure.  Had you seen my two days before, I was pretty much covered in snow from constantly falling on my ass. 

I have a lot more photos to share now.  For the first time, I uploaded everything to shutterfly, so it’s nice to have access to photos when I actually write about them. 

This post has gone on waaaay to long.  I have a hillarious balloon jam tonight where I am meeting up with dozens of other people that share in my interest of balloon twisting.  Surely I’ll have something good to share tomorrow.

Filed under: bachelor party, balloon , Vail, Winter Park

Jack & Grill

Before I hammer on my Jack & Grill experience this past week while in Denver, let me just say that the name of the new theme I am using for this blog is “Fresh Bananas”.  I chose this theme purely because of the name and had no interest in even seeing if it would appeal (yes, pun intended) to me.  Speaking of Fresh Bananas, have any of you ever tried eating a green banana?  I did a few weeks back and I’m not gonna lie.  It sucks.  Don’t do it.  It tastes like you are eating a slightly flavored root.  I took two bites and spit it out.  The banana peel would have tasted better.  I have a new found fascination with bananas after that experience.  I buy them green at the store and over the course of 24-48 hours they transform from banana flavored root to something soft and glorious.   …back to Jack & Grill. 

Regretably I don’t have pictures to support this visit.  When we finally got back into Denver after four hours on the road, I was in no mood to unpack my camera so the only image of anything from Jack & Grill was taken by Chris’s cellphone. 

Jack & Grill is in the Jefferson Park area of Denver’s inner city.  I had first learned about Jack & Grill while watching Man vs. Food a few weeks before the trip.  They did a segment on Jack & Grills breakfast burrito challenge.  It’s a Jack & Grill where they offer a 7 pound breakfast burrito.  Being a fan of breakfasts and a bigger fan of burritos, I immediately added a visit to this restaurant to the agenda for Thursday morning while only four of us were in town.  The deal with this 7 pound burrito is, if you eat it, your photo goes up on the wall.  Here is the burrito in all it’s glory:

 

This picture doesn’t even do it justice.  A man at a table next to us ordered it, and you have to see it to believe.  It is 7 pounds of breakfasty goodness.  Filled with grilled potatoes, eggs, ham, cheese, onions, chiles, and smothered in a spicy flavorful chile sauce.  I’m drooling right now thinking about it. 

Did I try the 7 pound challenge?  Hell no.  Unfortunately each of my days in Denver called for drinking lots of beer, and I doubt after putting 7 pounds of anything in my body that I will likely be able to function for the remainder of the day.  I did however try the smaller version of it that was offered as well.  The smaller version is 1/4 the size and still weighs in at roughly 1 and 3/4 pounds.  Childs play right?  Wrong.  One of the guys in our group couldn’t even finish the smaller one.  I think on a good day, I could put down two of the smaller versions, but by the time I was done with just one I was full. 

What surprised me the most was actually how unbelievably delicious the burrito was.    It was the perfect blend of breakfast and spice.  I love spicy food and it was perfect.  I am truly jealous of Denver.  From what I saw while I was there, their burgers are ridiculously sized as well.  If I lived in Denver, I would frequent that place if not weekly, monthly.  For 12 dollars, you can’t get a better deal. 

I’ll stop now, while I am hungry.  It’s the second to last Friday in Lent, and I don’t know what it is about not eating meat on Friday’s that make me want it that much more.  I’m hoping that Jack & Grill sticks around for many years, because it will definitely be one of my destinations next time I find myself in Denver for a few days. 

Have a great weekend!

Filed under: Fatty, bachelor party, barf, beer , Denver, Jack & Grill

Red Lion and FTD

To wrap up the Vail portion of my trip (see last post to get caught up), we had drank our fair shar of beer in the hot tub at the Marriott and it was time to get ready and head off to dinner. 

Let me quickly say that still to this moment in life, I don’t think there is a better drinking environment than an outdoor hot tub with snow falling down staring up at the mountains.  That moment borderlines in my mind close to sitting on a beach with the sun setting and a nice cold corona.  I digress…

We were supposed to do dinner at The dusty boot in Beaver Creek.  From what I was told, that is a cool place to hang out after skiing.  But, due to the amount of alcohol drank at this point, we decided to do Red Lion for dinner.  We called The Red Lion and charged 150.00 to the credit card so that we could get a table right in front of Phil Long who I was told is the reason to go to Red Lion.  Having never been there, I didn’t really know what to expect.  The 150.00 would be credited to our bill and with four of us going there surely wouldn’t be an issue spending that much on dinner and drinks. 

When we arrived, I was a little surprised to find out that The Red Lion is seriously just a bar that offers food.  I didn’t get what the appeal was until 9:30 when Phil Long presented himself to our table.  We explained that Chris was celebrating a bachelor party and were surprised when Phil immediately ordered our table 8 shots to start off the performance.  I don’t really know the whole Red Lion Story, but what I was told is Phil Long used to be just an entertainer that starred at the Red Lion.  Eventually the owners wanted out so knowing it was a virtual gold mine, he bought in with another partner.  Essentially Phil Long is The Red Lion.  Without him it would be just another pub in downtown Vail. 

So Phil performs.  He is great.  He plays the guitar, sings some great songs and the cougars dance.  That is the Red Lion.  You throw a wadded up dollar into his tip bucket from a far distance and he orders your table 24 shots to be taken by yourself and everyone around you.  It’s a great atmosphere.  As the evening was winding down, we decided to get the check and call it an amazing day.  Phil saw me with the Bill in my hand and immediately stopped mid song and called us out.  The whole bar boo’d and Phil ordered each of us a shot and a beer so we would be forced to stick around.  Within an hour Chris was up on stage with Phil singing.  2 hours later we closed down the bar and ended up in a pizza place.  I don’t remember much after that other than waking up in my swimming suit in a stairwell hoping to get back into the hot tub even though it closed at 10pm.  Security was outside and apparently I thought the stairwell would be a good place to hide out until security left.  When I woke up I decided to give up on my aspirations to continue the party in the hot water, I headed back up to the room and passed out. 

6:30 rolls around (only a few hours after I hit the bed) and we decided that if we were going to have any chance on getting back to Denver, we would have to leave by 7:30am since there was a blizzard heading to Denver and they would surely close the pass and we would be stuck in Vail.  By the time I got out of the shower I was still a wreck, but it was off to Denver.  The two hour ride turned into 4 hour and we decided to have breakfast at The Jack & Grill, which in itself is a completely seperate post.  I’ll stop here for this part of the trip and pick back up with Jack & Grill tomorrow.

FTD is dead to me.  While I was off partying the days away in Colorado, my wife was doing some crazy partying of her own in Las Vegas.  That as well will be its own post also, but once again I digress. 

When we arrive back home I decided that I wanted to send my wife some flowers to her school on Monday.  Apparently at 9:30am in the monring, it’s not that easy to have flowers delivered in the afternoon, so I settle on a huge bouquet of yellow roses from FTD to be delivered on Tuesday.  I saw on FTD’s site that they now offer to send flowers in a box or through a local florist.  Not wanting my wife to have to assemble the flowers in her classroom, I made sure to pick a bouquet that would be delivered already arranged.  Tuesday rolls around and I get a call from my wife at 4pm thanking me for sending flowers.  She didn’t sound the way she normally does when I send flowers having sent them dozens of times. 

“I thought you might want to know that the flowers were delivered in a box…”

“What?” was my response. 

“I also thought you might want to know that the flowers are dead…”

“Are you kidding me?”  I yelled.  

She replied with the whole don’t get upset, since it’s the thought that counts.  If it’s the thought that counts, then I would have cut out a picture of flowers and sent them and  saved myself 80 bucks.  She said that she had never recieved boxed flowers before and maybe the magical powder they send with the flowers will bring them back to life after she gave them water and assembled the dead flowers in the vase.  Not likely, I thought. 

So, I called FTD and was pleasantly greeted with the typical 6 dollar an hour 2nd grade education customer service person.  After 45 minutes of arguing with this woman, her only offer to make me happy was to send the same arrangement in a box.  Anything different I would have to pay more money.  So, I must have committed the cardinal sin of customer service spinning my wheels with someone that did not have the power to say yes to my request, so I finally asked for one of her bosses.  level 2 if you will.  After waiting on hold for a few minutes another woman came on the line who identified herself as a senior customer care representative, which I assume meant that she had been there longer than a month.  I once again expressed my displeasure and we quickly were able to set up something from a local florist to be delivered already arranged in a vase that wasn’t dead.  I was happy with that.  They would not refund the money since another bouquet was on the way.  Since yellow roses apparently are hard to come by, I finally just asked for some red ones to be sent and it was finished.  After the second round of flowers were delivered to my wife yesterday, everyone at her school now thinks that I must have done something seriously wrong on my bachelor party.  Nothing could be farther from the truth. 

FTD is dead to me now.  Shame on me for not dropping my money on  a local florist that needs the business to stay open in this economic shit storm that we are currently in.  I say stay away from FTD.  Even if you order something that is supposed to go through a local florist, they will send dead flowers in a box.  If you ask them why they will respond saying that you should have read all of the fine print.  Who reads fine print when ordering flowers?  Not this guy.

Filed under: Vacation, Vegas, asspain, bachelor party, beer, liar, romance, wife

Bachelizzard recap

I was back at work yesterday and with good reason, didn’t even for a moment thing about posting yesterday due to the obscene amount of email waiting for me when I returned to the office.  My only saving grace was that I worked periodically while I was in Denver so some of the more critical items had already been handled. 

In all I have very mixed feelings about the bachelor party.  It was awesome.  I will say that.  It was a ton of fun.  We did run into issues with the weather, though.  For the weeks before our trip to Denver, it was Sunny in the 50’s and 60’s.  When we arrived, it was cold.  No big deal right?  Well, on Tuesday they said that Denver was in line for some snow on Thursday.  Then on Wednesday they bumped up the scattered snow storms to a full on Blizzard.  12-24 inches on Thursday, white out conditions, wind gusts at 50 plus mph.  Awesome. 

The bachelor party officially started at 6:30am on Tuesday when I bought him our first bloody mary.  90 minutes later as we were boarding our flight we were already buzzed hard.   Being the best man, it was essentially my financial duty to ensure that the groom to be was drunk at almost every hour of this trip.   So, the groom to be and I got into Denver early on Tuesday.     We picked up the rental with no issues and proceeded to begin our drive to the bachelor’s sisters house.  She lives in the extremely tall building downtown called the glass house and has an amazing 900 square foot balcony on the 15th floor overlooking downtown Denver.  We dropped off our bags and headed out to begin our adventure.  Met up with his sister for lunch and then headed over to Earl’s to scope out the restaurant that would host our group of 18 on Friday night.  Had a beer there and sat out of the balcony in the sun.  It had to have been around 55-60 degrees, but the sun made it feel like it was 75.  We then began the walk over to Falling Rock.  Chris has talked about this place since they have something like 70 different beers on tap at all times.  We enjoyed a few more beers there and then headed back to his sisters house to clean up for dinner. 

For pre dinner Chris and I met up with one of his child hood friends at a bar with his wife and 2 month old baby.  Had a few more beers there before his sister and brother in law joined us.  After a few hours we began our walk to the italian restaurant and had probably one of the best meals of the trip.  Wish I remembered the restaurant name.  After dinner the four of us went off to play some shuffleboard at a brewery that apparently the mayor of Denver owns, and finished with one last beer for the day.  At this point it had been 38 hours since I last got a wink of sleep so I was dead tired. 

Woke up Wednesday morning and picked up Dan and Stefan from the airport and we were off to Vail.  The drive was around 2 hours and it was truly beautiful.  We went from bright and sunny and as we climbed the mountains to Vail everything was beginning to get covered with snow.  I saw my first skiing mountain and I was horrified since in a few hours I would try my own hand at skiing for the first time. 

Vail was/is amazing.  A whole town essentially built around skiing and drinking.  I am sure there is more to it than that, but those were the only two sides I saw.  My vail experience would break down to three chapters.  1. skiing 2. hot tub 3. red lion

Vail Chapter 1.  Skiing.  We picked up our Rental skis and lift tickets and were off to the mountain.  Funny moment number 1 was when Chris was approached by a stranger to buy his lift ticket.  I knew it was a shady transaction when the seller said “I’ll leave my gloves over there and you put the money in the glove after I walk away.”  awesome.  We haven’t even been on the mountain yet and I have heard my first hillarious quote of the day. 

We rode the gondola up to what seemed to me to be the top of the mountain.  We went down what appeared to be an easy trail and it didn’t take me long to wipe out for the first time.  With this being my first skiing experience on a mountain, I expected to fall.  And I did.  A lot.  Turning isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.  The issue I ran into frequently was the inability to stop.  I would pick up speed too fast and wipeout.  After the first run, I told Chris and Stefan to go on without me because every time I fell it would take me longer and longer to get back up.  At that point, in my eyes, skiing really sucked.  In the end, I had fallen around 20 times and debated as to whether I would be able to walk once I finally got off the mountain.  My injuries included a pulled bicep, possibly torn and dislocated shoulder, and legs that felt like Jello.  After returning our gear and heading back to the hotel, I spied an outdoor hot tub and with all of the aches and pains that my body was feeling, the hot tub was without a doubt my immediate destination. 

Vail Chapter 2.  The hot tub.  We thought we would only want a few beers each so we drank one on our way down and carried a six pack.  When we got in, there were a few couples as well as some children.  The four of us began drinking and realized that the beer tasted all too good in a warm hot tub with the cold vail air surrounding us.  We quickly finished all of the beer we had and were left with one question:  Which of the four of us would get out of the hot tub and walk the two blocks to the liquor store to buy more?  Why me, of course.  That job screams best man right?  I took one for the team.  By the time I was out of the hot tub in my wet swim shorts and t-shirt with flip flops, it was snowing out.  I walked the few blocks there and back as fast as possible and dodged funny looks by the locals as they all thought,  ”What a dumb ass!”

The highlight of the hot tub was talking to another guy for a good 45 minutes before finding out that it was the GM for the Chicago Wolves, Kevin Cheveldayoff.  The following hour was filled with questions about the team.  My favorite part was hearing his daugter tell us that she has a Calder cup championship ring.  She couldn’t be more than 10 years old and she has a hockey championship ring.  Awesome.  I bet that makes for good show and tell time.  By the time we were ready to get out and head to the red lion, the four of us had polished off a case of beer.  Nothing like getting drunk in a hot tub while snow is falling. 

Chapter 3: The Red Lion.  I will post on this tomorrow since this post has gone on waaaay too long.

Filed under: bachelor party, beer , skiing, Vail

I can not finish a post

Seriously.  I have begun like 10 and every time I try and wrap it up, I get sidetracked and end up saving it for later without revisiting.

I have like 10 drafts just sitting there with some of them having expired due to being yesterday’s news. 

Today I am suffering from what I guess could only be described as what I felt when I had Senioritis.  You know where you are at work, and it’s nice out side, and you don’t want to be at work, so you try and work but all sorts of non work things are running through your mind?  Yep, that’s me today.  Add to that a small basketball tournament, and I have pretty much checked out. 

I am less than a week out from my trip to Denver, and I can’t wait.  I have prepared what I hope will be the best bachelor party yet with our group of guys.  This will be the 7th destination bachelor party for this group but it’s the first non Vegas trip and the first where I am serving as Best Man. 

The trip is ridiculously packed with drinking. The highlight of the trip being a surprise microbrewery pub crawl next Saturday that has a 26 person stretch SUV limo picking the 18 of us up from the hotel and taking us on an 8 hour 200 mile round trip tour of 14 different micro breweries.  We will also be skiing in Vail and Winter Park, which should be interesting since I have skied all of once in my life. 

I would like to mention that I believe that nothing happens without a reason, and it’s very sad to hear the news about Natasha Richardson last night.  Until yesterday, I had no clue who she was.  She is an actress and after scanning her body of work (no pun intended) I understood why I have never seen anything she has been in.  The closest I have ever come to seeing any of her movies was Maid in Manhattan since that was a movie they played on an airplane as we flew to Vegas once.  I didn’t listen to the movie, but did notice Jennfer Lopez’s badonkadonk in a few scenes.  She is the wife of Liam Neeson who I am a fan of.  Natasha had a skiing accident up in Canada a few days ago.  It was first reported that she just bumped her head.  Now she is dead.  She fell during a skiing lesson on a beginner hill.  She wasn’t wearing a helmet.  

Well guess what I just added to my list of items I shall be investing in when I rent skiing equipment next week?  A helmet.  Know what else?  I doubt now that I do anything overly aggressive since I have never had a lesson.  I have no interest in dying, so I shall be a bit more cautious as I give it my first go around of skiing on a mountain. 

On a completely sepearate note, I began a post that I will wrap up about my gym.  I am struggling with all of the naked people.  I don’t know what it is, but dudes like to hang out in my locker room naked.  It is my opinion that the locker room at my gym is a hotbed of gayness and I am thinking about cancelling my membership for purely this reason.  I am in the process of exploring “old school” options such as these:

That way, when I am in the locker room my vision will be blocked as the 75 year old guy walks around with the towell in his hand and not covering his twig and berries.  I know I might be breaking guy code here, but come on!  This isn’t a matter of insecurity, just a very high level of discomfort on my part.  I asked the wife if that’s the way it is in the women’s locker room hoping to verify everything I have ever dreamed of since I was 12 years old, but she claims it isn’t.  I guess I will never know…

In other gym news, I am still baffled by the number of people that drive around the parking lot and actually wait in an aisle for several minutes so that they can get a parking spot closer to the door.  Dude.  You are going to work out.  You will be running 2 miles or lifting weights in a matter of minutes.  Is that extra 15-20 steps going to kill you?  I hate it when I walk out to my car and cars will stalk you hoping that you are occupying a closer spot.  Sadly I have found humor in fucking with these people on occasion when I am in no rush until they get pissed and gun it past me.  The timing threshold is around 2-3 minutes after I get into my vehicle. 

That’s about it.  I’m going to click publish now before something esle comes up and I this gets saved for another day as well.  Happy March Madness!

Filed under: Exercise, asspain, bachelor party, beer, stupid

Vegas Finale

I need to wrap up some of my final stories before they escape my head, and unfortunately since it has come down to a Friday post, they are going to be abbreviated so that this one doesn’t go on for 2000 words. 

Porn Slappers-  If you haven’t been to Vegas, you don’t know what I am talking about.  If you have been, then you probably feel the same way I do about all of the illegal immigrants doing their best three slap to get a picture of a girl that is dying to keep you company for the evening for only 500/hr.  I want to go so many directions with this, but nay time. 

I don’t usually feel the want to get inside an organization to see what it is like, but for some reason, I would love to see a Porn Slapper Org chart.  You know, somewhere there is a high roller kingpin who runs all of this, and it would be interesting to meet the many levels of illegal douche in between.  How does one get promoted to the next level.  Is it dependent upon success?  Success can only be achieved by the amount of cards you get into the hands of passerbys.  To do this, one must achieve the unreal “four slap” which in itself could possibly cause injury.  The “three slap” is very rare, but to hit the “four slap” and you have to automatically move from being a porn slapper to one who bikes food and replacement porn cards.  Lately slapping is less found and has been replaced with the less noisy nail flick. It’s easy to see who are “old school” by those who stick to the slap vs. the flick.  I would never take the porn from a “flicker”. 

Vegas for March Madness

It was cool. It wasn’t quite as cool as what everyone describes.  The only difference between Vegas for March Madness and any non March weekend is that you don’t have to wait in line at the sportsbook to place bets and they aren’t full of fat guys with the random girlfriend sprinkled in who you know would rather be a sun burst covered woman on one of the porn cards than sitting in the sportsbook watching basketball game after basketball game with her husband/boyfriend.  The only good thing about being in Vegas during March is the weather.  It was right at 80 degrees every single day, which is perfect for walking around and enjoying the pool. 

Chicago Cub Gamblers

I am a huge Cub fan.  The Cubs were in Vegas for their final two Spring Training games.  While eating in a Restaurant at the MGM on Thursday night, Schief said “It’s Carlos Zambrano.”  Schief and I have a history of saying, “Hey it’s Michael Bolton” upon seing a balding man with a mullet when in fact it really isn’t Michael Bolton.  So, when he said “It’s Carlos Zambrano” I turned around and saw someone that looked like Zambrano.  After doing a doubletake, it really was Z.  He went over and talked to a table of two guys that we assumed in the MLB jackets to be umpires.  After we left and were heading back to the hotel room, we walked past Alfonso Soriano.  By the time we made it back down to the tables to play, Soriano was sitting at a Blackjack table with Henry Blanco.  Then Therio and Lieber came down.  The next day we bumped into Aramis Ramirez and Felix Pie.  In my drunken stupor I did not approach them as my friends had since I was certifiably retarted.  All I will say is that I wasn’t surprised to see them lose their Friday grame 2-10 based on the hour at which many were still in the casino.  If I had any money on the game, I would have likely begged them to go to bed and prepare for the game the next day. 

White Pride at the MGM Pool

There was a guy at the MGM pool that had “White Pride” Tatooed to his stomach. I swear to God.  I don’t need to add anything to this story. 

MGM Pool Rules Outsmarted

The MGM doesn’t allow you to bring in your own beer.  Somehow the first day we got a case in and pissed some people off because within a few hours of getting our first case in the pool, they were checking all bags and denied our second case when we finished off the first one.  So, the next day Schief conceived a plan.  When we would go through the security checkpoint, the one lady checking coolers would pull you aside and look to see if you have any alcohol in your cooler.  We filled a cooler with Ice and bottled water.  My friend B. led the way with the cooler full of water.  Two of us filled plastic bags with cases of beer and draped towels over them to make it appear that we were only carrying bags in.  As we approached the security lady, she bit and pulled B. aside to check his cooler while the other two of us whisked on by with our grocery bags full of beer.  It was truly a perfectly executed plan and the fact that we had to create a scheme to beat the system is sad in itself.  Hey, if they didn’t charge 7.00 per beer at the pool, it wouldn’t have even been an issue.  When you are putting back 10-15 beers at the pool, a buck a beer is a lot better than 7.00. 

Dried Squid

For the record this is not the same brand that Ben bought while in Vegas, but it looks similar to the bag that he opened in our hotel room.  Upon opening it, it smelled like someone had just killed 1 million squid in our room.  The smell actually took on the form of sound and I heard the dried squid moaning as the stench oozed out of the bag.  It truly smelled like a bag of asses.  Ben tried to eat one and couldn’t do it.  He threw it in our garbage can, and we immediatly asked him to put it in the garbage by the elevator.  If you ever have the itch to snack on something and see the dried squid hanging nicely next to the beef jerkey as it did in Vegas, go for the Jerky. 

I still want to hit on the topic of Bottle Service at Body English and Pai Gow Poker, but have gone way too long.  I will try and wrap this up this weekend. 

Happy Friday and have a great weekend!

Filed under: Cubs, bachelor party, bag of asses, beer, drunk, fish, smelly, stink

Hi, is that your boob?

First things first.  I have to get two things off my chest, and as I sit in cubicle hell, I want to stand up on my desk and yell.

1.  Barack Obama went bowling.  Or did he?  He bowled a 37 in front of hundreds of onlookers who all joked with how bad he was at bowling.  His excuse? It’s been 30 years since he put on bowling shoes.  I hate to say it, but whoever in his campaign thought that doing something for fun to drum up votes should be kicked in the groin.  I know that they were probably trying to do something that fellow Pennsylvanians could relate to, and putting on a jersey and hoop shorts wouldn’t work.  So, what else could he do?  Bowling? People in Pennsylvania love their bowling.  I don’t know what is sadder, the fact that Barack was so bad, or the fact that the only recreational thing he could think of to relate to people in that state includes a sport that is best enjoyed with a beer in one hand and a mustard/grease stain on the shirt. 

2.  For all of you DVR owners, be sure to set it to record the Today show on Friday.  Cause the New kids on the block are back!  And to think that after all these years, my prayers weren’t being heard. 

Here they are in their early 40’s/late 30’s.  I don’t know if New kids on the block will work any longer.  Maybe Old Guys in Denial who need money is a better description.  Of all the bands that I have dreamt of seeing a reunion, this one just might be ranked in the 3-4 hundred range (being nice). 

Now that I got that off my chest, back to Vegas.  After the best man proposal and drinking in the pool for a few hours, we got dressed and met one of our friends parents at the Bellagio for Dinner.  After dinner we were walking back to the MGM when I decided that I was going to pick up some water/Gatorade for the room since we never have enough on past trips.  The two others head back to the hotel while I swing in and decide that it would be a good idea to get a case of bottled water and three big big bottles of gatorade.  I don’t know what I was thinking because that was a shit load of liquid for one man to carry.  No big deal, since MGM appeared to be right in front of me. 

Let me pause this story for just a moment.  If you have not been to Vegas, let me explain something.  Just because something looks to be right in front of you, doesn’t mean it is.  Due to the gigantism of the hotels out there, many a times have I looked at something and said “let’s walk” only to realize that it was a bad idea after walking for an hour and only being half way there.  For any of you who have been, you know what I am talking about. 

Back to the story.  I decide to go boom box with my case of water and throw it up on my shoulder.  Three bags in the other hand.  Walking along, and I get maybe a good 300 yards away when I realize that i’m not as close as I thought.  So, I set everything down and take a breather, not wanting to break a sweat since I am already dressed for what should be a crazy ass night.  I continue this time putting the bottle on my other shoulder and moving on,  but the other arm begins to burn much faster.  So, I stop again.  Shit, I started sweating.  I take another break.  5 breaks later, I finally see a side entrance to the casino and wondered if it would be unlocked.  I head over and by now my Calvin Klein baby blue starched dress shirt has mega sweat rings formed under my arm pits, and I start to feel sweat seeping into the shirt on my chest and stomach.  I looked like I just ran a freaking marathon when I have walked all of half a mile.  As I approach the door with case of water on shoulder and sweat showing, the door opens up and out walks this guy followed by a woman.  They were all dolled up for a night on the town and I look over and see a limo waiting for them.  She was wearing one of those tops that is super loose and the neck line plunges down to the navel area, left with hanging collar that covers the boobs.  You know what I am talking about. 

As she pushes the door open, something about the way she stretched out one arm combined with a sudden gust of wind that just opened up the left side of her top causing one of the most glorious boobs to just pop out. 

I don’t say glorious because it was a nice boob, because I am married and I truly only enjoy the site of my own wife’s boobies, but I describe it as glorious because any time you are witness to an unexpected boob exposure, it is truly a glorious experience.  I digress…

As the wind blows, she feels that her breast is exposed, and by now I am just staring with a smile on my face.  She quickly fixed her top.  I quickly turn around to see that the guy is already getting into the limo and is a good distance away, when I utter “nice boobie” to her as I walk through the door.  I wish I would have had more time to have said something like, “very nice” or “thanks for the show” or ”those aren’t fake” but “nice boobie” was all I could conjure with such short notice. 

I continued on my sweaty way up to the room looking back frequently for a man ready to punch me for my comment, but there was no such encounter.  It was at that moment that I knew I was in for a good night. 

Filed under: Barack Obama, Boobies, bachelor party, beer, free porn, memories

Hooters Casino and the best man proposal

I am still tired.  I seriously didn’t realize how bad I fucked up my system out there.  It’s amazing how sleeping from 2pm until 8pm and then staying up at all hours drinking and partying will really throw your mind and body out of whack.  I can’t remember a time when I struggled to stay awake at work. 

Upon arrival in Vegas my best friend Schief and I headed to the Casino that we would call home for the next four nights.  The cool thing that I didn’t know was that the MGM Grand actually has a check in counter at the airport, so before we even picked up our checked luggage, we already had our room keys and shuttle tickets. 

We arrived at the MGM at 10:30am and found out that we are unable to get into our room.  We had our bags sent in and decided it was time to drink.  We headed across the street to Hooters Casino to have lunch and beer.  The Hooters casino is everything you would imagine that a Hooters casino would be.  Almost every single woman is wearing a Hooters outfit.  The dealers, the cocktail waitresses, the restaurant staff, the shop workers, every one.  I have to assume that there is a huge benefit knowing that if Larissa the waitress in the restaurant were to slip on a pickle, that Michelle the cocktail waitress can fill in without having to change a single article of clothing.  I doubt any other resort on the Vegas strip has this sort of uniform efficency. 

We settled in the back of the resort at the Hooters restaurant and ordered.   Wings and pitchers of beer, were our choice of Hooters food.  We saw a table of business people ordering sandwiches and were shocked to see that Hooters even offered anything in a bun.  Within two sips of our pitcher, Schief asked me the question. 

“Since it was over wings and beer that you asked me to be your best man six years ago, I find it only fitting that I do the same.  Will you be the best man for my wedding?” 

With that it was done.  I immediately said yes, and the sappy akward moment passed.  I told him that I would be honored and was very excited.  I immediately also told him that unlike his best man speech performance at my wedding, I would not be singing as he did.  (For the record, he did a Karaoke compilation of around 8 different song genres from rap to country that all contained the word love in it.)  It was hands down possibly the best best man speech in the history of weddings.  Since his wedding will be ultra black tie, I will likely keep mine on the classy side, although I do have over a year to come up with something unusual.  I may even incorporate balloon twisting into the speech somehow since he thinks it’s embarrasing that I twist balloons. 

After wings and two pitchers of beer, I was already severely buzzed and it was time to head back to the MGM.  For the record I would just like to say that the people at the Hooters Casino are exactly as you would imagine.  It was mostly dudes with their beer bellies that just can’t get enough of boobies, hotwings, and beer.  Trailer park bordering on upper class nascar is a good description.  The highlight of classiness was watching a couple who had just gotten married still in their Tux and wedding gown with the groom wearing a Nascar hat waiting in the long line to get into the restaurant while the newly married wife held a leash that ran down to a 4 or 5 year old boy. (belive me, that sentence is much better as a runon.) The newly married wife had the leash in one hand and a bucket used for coins/slot machines in the other.  I wish I could have taken a picture.  Instead I have a mental image that will make me giggle for a long time. 

We headed back to MGM to check into our room and to jump into our bathing suits and head down to the pool.  The bachelor party has begun, even if it has begun for just the two of us sans bachelor. 

Filed under: Schief, bachelor party, beer, drunk, trailer

Yawn

That pretty much sums up my mood right now.  I am back at my desk.  I am back in the suburbs of Chicago.  Back from the craziness of Las Vegas.  Back from 80 degree warmth.  Back from a lazy river pool that allowed me to get a nice little pre summer tan going.  Back from the place where boobies randomly pop out for no reason other than pure lack of judgement in regards to the amount of material that is needed to secure said boobies.  Back from Vegas. 

I want to go back. 

I missed my wife though. 

I will dedicate a couple of posts over the coming week towards the debauchery that took place on our trip.  I am proud to say that for the 9th time I have gone, I still have not visited a Strip Club in Vegas.  I am a Vegas Strip Club Virgin. 

I won money.  I brought back more than I took, and when you consider how expensive it is out there, that is a big win.  I played table games around 8-12 hours a day.  We did Bottle Service at a club called Body English.  I will discuss that further as well, and back it up with non incriminating photos of the craziness.  (It was a bachelor party after all)  I was in one of the 7 different pools every single day for at least 3 hours.  I managed to get officially drunk 4 different times in a 36 hour period without even getting an hour of sleep.  I bumped into team mates of my favorite baseball team, the Chicago Cubs.  If I had to describe my trip in two words or less it would be: Rock Star. 

So, here I sit at my desk today, nodding off over and over again due to the fact that about right now, in Vegas I would be heading back to my room from the pool for my 3 hour nap in anticipation of doing it all over again this evening. 

I love Vegas.  I’m going back in another 43 days.  I can’t wait. 

Interesting things that occured while in Vegas that I will try and hit on as the week progresses:

Hooters Casino and The Best Man Proposal

Vegas for March Madness

Porn Slappers

Chicago Cub Gamblers

White Pride at the MGM Pool

Sweaty Dennis and the windy boob

MGM Pool Rules Outsmarted

Pai Gow Poker

Dried Squid

Bottle Service at Body English

Filed under: Captain, Cubs, bachelor party, drunk, stripper, train wreck, wife

One more day…

Easter has come and gone, and besides the 12″ of snow that was recorded from my town near the Wisconsin border, it was quite uneventful.  Which, compared to last years Easter debacle, is a blessing in itself. 

I was upset to have spent some of my time researching where we might enjoy an Easter Brunch with my Father in Law.  When we arrived at his house on Easter, my wife asked him where he wanted to go for lunch, and I was shocked to hear him say IHOP.  So, IHOP it was.  I can’t honestly say that IHOP even entered my mind for an Easter meal.  I would imagine that after you have celebrated 85 Easter meals, IHOP would be a change of pace.  What I did learn this Easter holiday was that I take leftovers for granted.  When we headed home it dawned on me that there wouldn’t be a leftover ham sandwich in my future.  I love ham sandwiches. 

Speaking of meat, within the next 24 hours, I will begin my quest to put every single pound back on my frame that I have worked so meticulously over the past 2 months to lose.  I have 4 full days to go nuts in Vegas, and I am drueling at the thought of putting so much garbage in my body.  I love to eat.  Which is why I decided that I was never meant to be skinny.  I don’t do many things well in life, but I am proud of my ability to eat.  I have tortured myself for almost 70 days for this trip, and there are no holds barred.  I anticipate hearing an oriental guy yelling at me for being at the buffet for 4 hours and that I am not allowed to come back.  My favorite dining place in Vegas is the Rum Jungle at Mandalay Bay Hotel and Casino.   http://www.chinagrillmgt.com/rumjungle/main.cfm?pp=0 There is just something about all you can eat meat (some bacon wrapped) that makes me giggle like a schoolgirl.  I type this as I nibble on a Crispy Chocolate Peanut butter meal replacement bar.  (that might be the gayest thing I have ever written and I have omitted the brand name) I don’t care what the box says, but it isn’t chocolate, and doesn’t even taste like chocolate.  It should really be called Peanut butter Ass…as in “I can hardly taste peanut butter through the strong dirty Ass flavor.” 

Filed under: Easter, In laws, bachelor party, ride the snake, stupid