Before we get going with the weekend post, I’d just like to link everyone to the trailer for Michael Moore’s new movie Fahrenheit 9/11, which should be coming out this summer. While I’ve never been a fanatic for his work, this is one movie that I will definitely be seeing.
We had a good weekend at Thugg Mansion, replete with Madd-bashing, poker playing, and loving and hugging. Thursday night Madd’s friends from Wisco flew into town. Friday night we started off by having a nice dinner at The Olive Garden and ended up at the ALL-NEW Cosmic Bowling with an angry high school gentleman. Saturday was a wonderful day of magic, whimsy, and a fucking kid that kept steeping on my feet as we went to view Harry Potter and the Magical Ability To Enter Puberty. Finally, on Sunday the wife and I went on a (practically) all-day golfing adventure wherein I lost the most balls ever on a per-hole average.
On Thursday Madd’s former college roommates/friends flew into SFO for the weekend. Jay and Shlarb are good sons-a-bitches in my view, as they spent the vast majority of their time in sunny California zinging the Scientist for being fat and/or lazy, but mostly fat. From what I hear, they went out in San Jose on Thursday night to Bar & Grill, Cinnabar, and Mission. Little of note happened with the exception of Jay being fascinated with the number of hot, hot Latina women getting drunk in San Jose.
On Friday I came home to find our guests floating in the pool. A little while later we started a poker game, during which I drank some beers. When Erin got home we decided to go to Olive Garden for dinner. We got there and had some Sangria, and before I knew it, oops, I was regaling her with stories about how strip clubs work. Never mind the fact that there were tables of children all around us; I was more interested in explaining why I hate full-nude strip clubs because I don’t need to see cooters in my face. Erin mistook my “cooter” reference for “ass” and Benny Hill-like hilarity ensued. Up until this point we were supposed to go bowling with GMC(X) later that night. I was pretty drunko when we got home, and so the next natural course of action (after the marital relations) was to go bowling and drink a whole lot more.
We got to the bowling alley and it was far too early for us to get in on the Cosmic Bowling action, so we went to the bowling alley bar and got some drinks. I drunkenly won a game of pinball against GMC, and then drunkenly won a game of darts against Rock Chalk AND GMC (I won the darts by hitting a double-bulls eye for the win, by the way). For some reason there was a large group of young drunkards in the bar who were also obviously waiting for Cosmic Bowling to begin. They started playing loud country music on the jukebox, at which point I turned to GMC and said, “Huh, didn’t know there were hillbillies in Silicon Valley.” GMC responded, “Yep.” Rock Chalk made a “My-Ears-Are-Hurting” gesture, and luckily at that point it was time to go rent a lane so we could bowl.
It was requested that I add the following disclaimer 🙂
Grand Masta Caspa says “my only addition to the above bowling story is that if your going to include your winning at pinball and darts, you have to include my wins (all three games) of bowling. Now I’m happy. If I was really gay I’d put a smily face at the end of that sentence. ”
Bowling went quite okay except that I drank a bunch and by the end couldn’t bowl too well. It was a hilarious time had by all, up until it was time to leave. See, at this particular bowling alley in order to rent shoes you must give the person at the shoe counter one of YOUR shoes. I suppose this prevents the ol’ Rent-Bowling-Shoes-And-Leave-With-Em-Because-They’re-So-Damn-Fashionable Trick, which I have never seen pulled off successfully in my 25 years on this Earth. Well, the ever-present counter to the above offense is the Take-One-Of-Your-Shoes-In-Exchange-And-Lose-It Reversal, which, up until that point in the night, was going swimmingly for the bowling alley. So now there’s a very insignificant looking drunk fellow yelling at the poor bowling alley attendant for losing his other shoe. So let’s summarize:
- Give bowling alley one (1) of your shoes.
- Receive a pair of bowling shoes in return.
- Return a pair of bowling shoes.
- Receive one (1) of your shoes in return.
- Apparently, scream at attendant because you did not receive two (2) shoes in return.
So now the kid is yelling and screaming about his lost shoe and his apparent refusal to “just walk home without any fucking shoes” which as we all know is ridiculous because he in fact received at least one of shoes. I turned to GMC and asked if now was the right time to beat ass. He shook his head “no”.
Minutes later the alley janitor-slash-maintenance man found the kid’s other shoe, which was happily sitting under the seat over by the alley where the fucking retard had placed it. He mumbled something and left to go, I dunno, probably drag race and smoke pot in his mom’s basement or something. We went on our merry way and slept soundly when we returned home.
Saturday marked a delightful day of cleaning up from the night before and doing laundry at our house. I had also Fandango’d some tickets for me and the lovely wife to go see Harry Potter and The Curse of Puberty movie which came out on Friday. Once the cleaning was done we got all gussied up and headed for nice Saturday matinee. Oh yeah, and because I’m quite possibly the dumbest guy on earth we were accompanied by 200,000,000 children between the ages 8 and 12. Awesome. The movie wasn’t that bad, though Rock Chalk found numerous inconsistencies between the movie and the book. I wouldn’t know, honey, but I’m sure your criticisms are valid and good. When we got back home afterwards we ordered a pizza and the gentlemen and myself played some more poker while Erin went to the office to get some work done. All the guys had plans to go out in San Jose on Saturday night, but Erin and myself just wanted to stay in and watch some good ol’ Family Guy on DVD. We ended up going to be early (by our standards) and so I wasn’t up when all the hoolygans got home from drinking. Below I’ve left a space should GMX or Scientist wish to discuss the happenings of Saturday. If they don’t, then it will be a mystery for all time.
GMX’s or Madd Scientist’s Account Of Saturday To Go Here, Should They Feel Like It
To continue our weekend of loving and hugging and closeness, Rock Chalk and I went out for a nice breakfast at Hobee’s where she attempted to get me (many times, in fact) to agree to have a baby. Apparently she had had a dream the night before about being pregnant and was therefore all “mommied-up” and wanted to get knocked up herself. I took the road less traveled and responded “no”. Also, I got to describe my dream to her from the night before wherein I got into a fight at a mysterious party. The fight ended with me putting the other guy in an arm bar while Casperson looked on approvingly. Bottom line: Rock Chalk wants babies now, zachery wants babies in the future.
Golf was… interesting. I honestly played the worst game of the year for myself. I lost 7 balls on the back nine alone. It was just bad. BAD. Rock Chalk got frustrated quite a bit, which I was not so good at handling due mainly to my own struggles. I was relieved to finally walk off the 18th green. I think that next time I’ll either just play 9 holes with her or play a nice Par 3 course. The funny thing was, I started off good and went completely to shit on the 10th hole and beyond while Rock Chalk started off not so good but was really striking the ball well towards the end. Anyways, most of our day was soaked up by golf. By the time we got home RC had to go into the office for a while and we played some more poker. Then Scientist took one of our guests to the aeropuerto and I entered a $5 multi-table tournament. First place was $431 and there were 378 people entered. I was at 28th place with 85 people left when my AK got cracked by KT with a king on the flop and a ten on the river. I was not happy. The opposite of happy. “Pissed the fuck off” is the correct term. GMC told me I was going to have a heart attack someday if I didn’t calm down. Oh well.