Carlos Gomez is fucking hilarious. pic.twitter.com/hyabyBgsnK
— Big O (@wiscoinferno) May 16, 2014
Brewers just posted their ninth win in a row in a sweep over the Pirates. Hurray! The past few seasons I’ve started slow and faded fast in my Brewers TV game watching (though I’ve consistently listened in on games on the radio). Watching them win on the road and ruin other (former champ!) teams’ Opening Days has been quite a treat though.
Wwhazz and I talked about taking the tots to a day game sometime this summer; I haven’t been to a Brewers game at all since that NLDS game back in 2011.
You can go ahead and imagine little notes dangling around the title up there. Go on; it’s ok!
So my phone started jingling and jangling to tell me that the Brewers are playing Spring training games now. Hurray? That means it’s also time to try to fix up this old dump. #TURDPRESS amirite? I tried to move the site over to a new hosting provider this morning but AJ was screaming and I messed up the migration and then had to roll it back. #kids
So instead of moving providers (which I’ll still do but maybe not until next weekend) I just downloaded a new theme. Pretty not bad, I guess, although I’m sure you turds will find something wrong with it.
Wanna go to Vegas? We’re going at the end of September. Meet us there and party; I’ve earmarked part of our tax refund for the trip. Digression: holy shit we got a refund this year- the power of CHILD DEDUCTIONS and CHILDCARE DEDUCTIONS.
Welcome back, y’all. I been downright spacious around here lately, as I motored back and forth between Madison, San Francisco, and Chicago. I’m around for a minute now, though, and hoo-boy can I say that it looks like the Brewers are gonna suck this year. What’s the deal with airplane food? My flight from SFO-MSP had to make an emergency landing in RENO because some guy had a heart attack or something. I dunno- they landed the plane, EMTs came on-board and carried him off, then they gassed up the plane and we flew away. I would have liked to stay in Reno and GAMBO but alas we never got off the plane. HARRAH’S (HARRY’S)
Here’s the juicy news I heard while out in the yay area: 4nyay has a son now. If we ever see him again we can congratulate him, I guess. I didn’t bother looking Cal up because I didn’t have enough time to trudge into the city via train or car. Instead I frantically tried to get all my work done so they don’t fire me.
This week: DOO-BOO-QUEUE. Next week: THE WORLD.
Are we going to the gol-dang ewe-pee? I need to know so’s I can ask off from work.
Opening Day Nude Post!
Scientist ask your phantasy questions.
Brought to you by your friendly neighborhood TRUBB Announcer
Well you walk into a restaurant,
Strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you
As you’re shakin’ off the cold
You pretend it doesn’t bother you
But you just want to explode
Lonely horn riff.
Looking back, we did indeed live in charmed times. At one time it appeared that the Brewers would win the World Series, the Badgers would waltz into the National Championship, and Packers would go undefeated and bring home another Super Bowl. One by one those items came off the table, and we looked with longing eyes to the next on the list. By the time we got down to the just the Packers it was no sweat: that was the one we were most sure of.
Apologies to everyone at the party for my abrupt departure; I needed to go somewhere and throw heavy weights around to get my mind off of all the blowjobs those men-in-suits-talking-about-sports were gonna give Eli “Mushroomhead” Manning. My therapy worked fairly well– I worked out real hard and then almost couldn’t walk afterwards.
This would normally be the space where I triumphantly announce that it’s only one month until pitchers and catchers report (Feb 19!) except that with the whole Ryan-Braun-injecting-crushed-up-Flintstones-vitamins-directly-into-his-balls cloud hanging over the Brewers I’m not sure how excited to get about even that. Sorry, didn’t mean to turn this post into a downer.
Hey, next week is wwhazz’s millionth birthday. Let’s all go play air hockey at Union South! LET’S EAT GRANDMA!
Dubuque was great! Well, not so great as the last time, but a good time was had by all. We also saw CAL and he even played craps with us!
From the top? Ok.
Wwhazz, Lawman and I raced out of town Friday afternoon with a gleam in our eye and the rising feevah. Oh, we played it cool; we sauntered into The Canfield Hotel and answered all questions asked: where we were from, how we were doing, if we knew not to park next to the hotel because they like to keep that lot open for the karaoke patrons, if we had ID, if I knew what kind of name ‘Moneypenny’ was, if we had any singers in our group, if I would retrieve the front desk worker to watch when I returned from dinner and sang, how many people we had with us, when were they arriving, which room did we want, if we wanted this in one credit card transaction or two, and so on and so forth.
Once we were safely ensconced in 227 we unpacked a bit and decorated. On one wall, a 1992-1993 Milwaukee Bucks poster. On the refrigerator, Will Purdue’s size 27 shoe. And IN the fridge? Oh, look closely to your right and you’ll see the treasures buried there.
Soon we were out and about, headed towards Mystique Casino- which is really hands-down the greatest casino in Dubuque. Whatever little Internet cred I have I would like to cash in now in order to say: Mystique equals GREAT and Diamond Jo’s equals DUMP.
The watchword of the weekend: see-saw. Sally saw seashells by the seashore, and then she watched me dump five bills two hours before a triumphant six fold score. Sally, WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING~! I only had two non-craps experiences this time: I won $80 playing roulette and the next day I got straight-up mugged by a blackjack dealer for like a hundo in five minutes. Sad, really, that they had to resort to such skullduggery.
The high(low)light of the trip was when we went to Diamond Jo’s and got treated like scum by their ever-dour team of meanmugging dealers and boxmen. No jokes from that crew and lots of being yelled at for the smallest of infractions. Example: I had been betting $1 Any bets off and on, but pretty consistently. At one point I decided late to bet and reached for my chips. I fumbled grabbing a white chip but, being just at Stick Right I said aloud “dollar any” while the dice were in the air and tossed the chip onto the table before the dice landed. The boxman yelled “NO BET THAT’S NO BET” and then sternly lectured me on when bets could and couldn’t be made. Look, FUCK YOU Diamond Jo’s craps pit; I have booked verbal DOLLAR-FUCKING-ANY bets from Ho-Chunk to Vegas and back. It’s an 11.11% house edge and it’s a 7-to-1 payout on ONE FUCKING DOLLAR. And you’re going to call my bet off and, even worse, give me grief over it? When I’m betting hardways for your dealers all night? How about you just eat shit and die?
At the far opposite end of the scale from the terrible, rude service at Diamond Jo’s Casino was the once-again stellar time we enjoyed at Mystique Casino. The craps crew working over the weekend was in large part the same folks we had a great time with last December. Really fun crew all around, and even though we only roll through once or twice a year we were even remembered by some of the people. We had a few good rolls, a few great rolls, and a few not-so-great rolls, but we had a fun-as-hell time there.
It may be heresy, but the idea that we stay at Mystique instead of the Canfield was even discussed. May not go anywhere, but that’s how much we hate Diamond Jo’s now. Don’t go there; it is terrible.
Anyway, lah-dee-dah and all that- we headed out rather early Sunday morning to get back to Madison for a joint-baby shower-slash-Packer-game. Packers won handily, which was great, because I wasn’t in the greatest head space after a weekend of fooling around in Dubuque.
Ugh, well, we got the news that Braun was roiding (or whatever, dude was drinking some kind of Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde potion) as we sat at the bar in Champagne, eating steaks and listening to wwhazz bitch about being made small of by the host at the entrance. All of our cells started buzzing incessantly as Cubs fans from all over the country poured on the scorn. Whatever, jerks, soon you’ll have Prince Fielder and you can cackle all the way to another mid-division finish in 2012.
I returned home to find that the Brewers had signed Aramis Ramirez to a 3-year deal, and just this morning the Crew traded MAGUHAHEEEEEEEE to the Pirates for a pitcher. I’m worried about Tony Plush, but I have FAITH~! that the Great Mustache will make the right decision and extend his contract.
The Dadchelor Party is incoming; t-minus one week until lift-off towards Dubuque, IA and untold riches.
Let’s do a quick check-in on area sports teams:
- Badgers: going to the Rose Bowl again
- Packers: going to the Super Bowl again
- Prince Fielder: the market’s heating up!
The Milwaukee Brewers are in the National League Championship Series.
At any rate, let’s talk about the Cardinals a second. I’m not sure if I’ve ever witnessed a bigger bunch of complete dickheads- every Brewers story online is filled to the brim with a teeming, boiling lake of shitstains complaining about how the Brewers have no class, Nyjer Morgan is a cancer, etc., etc. I never quite understood why Cubs fans hated these dudes so much, and now I know in spades. Is there a sort of Dour Fuck Attractor attached to the Arch that beckons long-faced schmoes from far and wide to cheer and play for the St. Louis Cardinals?
I know the Brewers can stomp the Cardinals- this is a fact born by the realities of this season. I hope and pray that they use this opportunity to hit a grand slam, BEAST MODE around the bases, flip off Tony LaRussa while rounding third, cross homeplate doing a backflip, and then have sex with Pujol’s wife. And then park the Cardinal’s bus down at Grand Avenue Mall during the game so they gotta walk to it.
So, er, Go Brewers. Do eet.