I had to work today… I told them I would be there with bells on but in truth I was not that excited. In fact, I was so not excited about about working on labor day that I fled Nor*Cal for the sweet, sweet confines of San Diego starring Parker P and his owner, WWHAZZ. With bellygirlx making mischief in Wisconsin with my dear sweet Stacy (who really, really needs a whazzmaster name: I thereby christen her spacebee) it was sure to be a good time. In fact, said time was revised to REALLY GOOD status by Saturday afternoon.
It wasn’t until we were puttering around with Parker on a walk Saturday that we realized that our dearest alma mater: Wisconsin, would be playing a game of foots’n’balls against accursed Bowling Green University. We learned it was a night game a plan was set in motion that would culminate in
- A sneak attack, though not on us.
- Both of us getting real drunk.
- Wwhazz telling my fortune like a gypsy and then being right.
So there’s this bar in San Diego called Aussie’s. It’s an australian bar, except when it’s not. “When it’s not” is any time there is a Wisconsin or Green Bay football game, apparently. A sea of red greeted our arrival and upon entering Wwhazz said, “You’ll probably meet someone you know here.” “Rediculous!” I shouted, “You’re the only person I know within a hundred miles!” I was wrong, you see. A hundred beers later and in the third quarter I spotted an Intuit recruiting pal who lives in San Diego. I called him over and we talked shop: Madison, and how cool it is that I’m moving back there.
As wwhazz and I strolled down an alley, smoking seegars and talking shop (relationships) we caught a glimpse of a fight developing like a storm on the horizon. As we got about a half a block away we slowed to watch the cumulonimbii take shape. A shirtless gent was having a verbal tiff with three guys who jumped out of a nearby truck. Words were exchanged and it looked like it was going to be a bust all around as the shirtless guy retreated down the middle of the street as cars zoomed around him on either side. Once he got a couple dozen yards away he started screaming, “Sneak attack, motherfucker! Sneak attack!” Before wwhazz and I could puzzle it out a Japanese car zoomed up to the curb, two guys jumped out, and it was on like shawron. No shit talking (“you wanna fuck with me motherfucker?”), and noedging back and forth. Sneak Attack just up and started kicking the shit out of the three original guys. One got a scoop slam while another tried the UFC knees-to-the-head. We heard some bangs and crashes as one of the Sneak Attackers busted the rear headlights and dented up the nearby truck. As quickly as they Snuck, the Attackers disappeared into the night: the two guys in the car and the shirtless gent strolling down the street hollering at the Beaten Three that they were bitches while holding his ladyfriend’s hand. Now some other bystanders started jeering at the three and instead of getting the fuck out of there in their broke dick truck they tried to pick fights with the bystanders. Five seconds later two cop cars zoomed up and they were cuffed on the hood. So, let’s sum up the story: the Beaten Three were Sneak Attacked, beaten, then laughed at, and then cuffed while their busted truck sat forlornly in the parking lot, presumably wishing it hadn’t been purchased by losers. Wwhazz did a good Brent Mussberger throughout the fight, calling out the arrival of the cops moments before they zoomed up.
We also got real drunk. Real drunk.