My buddy Murch and I were going back and forth with some text messages the other night. Each of us happened to be enjoying a few drinks alone and we were discussing seven or eight different topics. I thought I'd share one particular thread as it turned out to be quite amusing:
8:01:22 pm - Me: How much is too much to drink alone? I'm thinking I'll have two Jim Rome's and then move on to a few Jim Beam & Diet Coke's.
8:01:36 pm - Murch: As long as you can pour them without spilling you're golden.
9:38:11 pm - Me: I just spilled but it was. Only a little.
9:38:37 pm - Murch: Spills only count if its the whole fucking glass.
There is a lot of awesomeness going on here. I love the fact that it took Murch only 14 seconds to read my text and reply with such wisdom. I was also very amused that in roughly an hour and a half I drank enough to start spilling and texting erratically. In particular I enjoyed the accidental period in the middle of my text at 9:38:11 pm. The topper for me was the rationale and well placed F-Bomb in Murch's final text. Upon reading it I definitely spit a little of my drink all over our computer.
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Brilliance and Disappointment
I've been playing Beer Pong for years now. I have always greatly enjoyed the game as it combines two of my favorite activities: making shots, drinking beers, talking trash and competition. I bring it up because I've been playing Beer Pong for 10+ years at this point and I recently became extremely disappointed with myself because this awesome YouTube video was brought to my attention and I can't believe it never occurred to me to finish off a game with this brilliance:
Can you imagine being involved in a competitive game of Beer Pong at a house party in college? People are milling around the garage enjoying the competition and trash talk, the game is close and just as it gets down to where each team has one cup left it's your turn to shoot. You unassumingly take the ball and back up a few steps. Then just as all eyes focus on you trying to figure out what you're doing you take a few running steps, leap over the table and dunk home the winning shot while smashing the table to smithereens!
I can't believe I didn't think of this back in the day. It's pure genius. And this video is awesome! I had tears of laughter streaming down my face in my office as I watched it. And any video that brings me tears of joy, laughter and a dash of disappointment needs to be shared.
Can you imagine being involved in a competitive game of Beer Pong at a house party in college? People are milling around the garage enjoying the competition and trash talk, the game is close and just as it gets down to where each team has one cup left it's your turn to shoot. You unassumingly take the ball and back up a few steps. Then just as all eyes focus on you trying to figure out what you're doing you take a few running steps, leap over the table and dunk home the winning shot while smashing the table to smithereens!
I can't believe I didn't think of this back in the day. It's pure genius. And this video is awesome! I had tears of laughter streaming down my face in my office as I watched it. And any video that brings me tears of joy, laughter and a dash of disappointment needs to be shared.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Bobby Ayala
If you are a Seattle Mariners fan like me, you know who Bobby Ayala is. For those of you who aren't familiar (and also for my amusement) Bobby Ayala was a relief pitcher and occasional closer for Mariners back in the '90s and he sucked huge hairy sweaty donkey balls. When he came into a game, things got worse. Immediately. It was particularly painful to have an Ayala experience thrust upon you when the Mariners had a lead late in the game. The team would go through all this work to get a lead during the first seven or eight innings and then Ayala would come in and inevitably blow it. And he would typically blow it up like a volcano which always left me with a sour taste in my mouth. And also extremely pissed off that he just blew the entire night.
The reason I bring Ayala up is because a few years back my friend Hank and I were chatting and Hank tossed out the premise that Gin is the worst possible alcohol to take a shot of (I know you're not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition but I can't figure out any other way to word that sentence that doesn't make me sound like I'm from 200 years ago). We later agreed that the double shot of house Gin would be the ideal prescription to get someone to throw up at the tail end of a night of drinking.
This discussion led us to take the double shot of house Gin out for a couple test drives with a few drunken and chirpy friends. After a few laps the results were unequivocal and it was decided that it was full proof and a name was needed. By now you know that this kind of thing is right up my alley and I quickly came up with the official name: the Bobby Ayala.
The official definition of the Bobby Ayala: in the Seattle area a double shot of house Gin has come to be called The Bobby Ayala. Just as he used to ruin a perfectly good night of baseball entertainment, a liquid Bobby Ayala is sure to do the same for a nice night of drinking. It is almost guaranteed to end up on the sidewalk and is the perfect remedy for a slightly obnoxious drinking buddy.
The reason I bring Ayala up is because a few years back my friend Hank and I were chatting and Hank tossed out the premise that Gin is the worst possible alcohol to take a shot of (I know you're not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition but I can't figure out any other way to word that sentence that doesn't make me sound like I'm from 200 years ago). We later agreed that the double shot of house Gin would be the ideal prescription to get someone to throw up at the tail end of a night of drinking.
This discussion led us to take the double shot of house Gin out for a couple test drives with a few drunken and chirpy friends. After a few laps the results were unequivocal and it was decided that it was full proof and a name was needed. By now you know that this kind of thing is right up my alley and I quickly came up with the official name: the Bobby Ayala.
The official definition of the Bobby Ayala: in the Seattle area a double shot of house Gin has come to be called The Bobby Ayala. Just as he used to ruin a perfectly good night of baseball entertainment, a liquid Bobby Ayala is sure to do the same for a nice night of drinking. It is almost guaranteed to end up on the sidewalk and is the perfect remedy for a slightly obnoxious drinking buddy.
Friday, August 28, 2009
A Guy Who REALLY Wants A Pitcher of Beer
Following up on the previous post about the crazy war protesters/supporters in Everett, Washington...a while back one of these crazy people had made a sign that perplexed me and I emailed my buddy Jamie about it. The following is our exact email exchange copied and pasted exactly from our emails:
From Paul to Jamie:
"I saw a sign among the war protesters/supporters down below our office today that said: “ONLY PIGS CAN PREVENT A JIHAD.” I am a college graduate with a good job who kind of follows the news and what not. On top of that I have lots of friends who are lots smarter and more knowledgeable on current events than I (all of them actually) and I have yet to find a single person who knows what that sign means. So now you have the opportunity to earn two beers because if you can figure that out you have another one coming. Actually, screw that – if you can tell me what that sign means I’ll buy you a pitcher! You can pick the beer."
Jamie's response:
"Here is what I know about the Pig sign. Muslims believe that pigs are basically the worst being on the planet. They don't eat pork and find them disgusting etc, etc. Most people refer to Jihad as a holy war...but basically you can apply any war coming from that region of the world as a holy war, and that would include the Iraq war, terrorism in general, etc (Bin Laden and his followers believe that their God hates the United States, and thus is fighting a holy war = Jihad.)
So what is the best way to fight Muslims? Use pigs. People think you should use live pigs in airports, put them on planes, outside of buildings, everywhere. How do most terrorists fight? They are suicide bombers, planes in 9/11, etc. So what happens if you blow yourself up when a pig is around? Your spilled blood is then mixed with the blood of a pig, and you are denied your rightful passage into the heavenly destination since for some reason killing yourself in the name of Jihad is honorable and its part of God's will. The pig nullifies that. The sign "only pigs can prevent a jihad" basically just says that war against terrorism is futile since Jihad is religion based, and the whole middle east region is Muslim, thus their warriors for their war is endless and so only a pig can stop the holy war by using the religion against itself.
Its a stretch, but I think that's the logic behind it, and it might have a broader application than my small explanation. I think most people don't really think a pig is the answer, but in anti-war terms, it just means that there might be a better possibility to help us fight terrorism. I like beer."
This is me again...I have no idea if that is correct in any way but I was very impressed. Now THAT, my friends, is a guy who really likes beer! Jamie - you have a pitcher of beer coming your way!
From Paul to Jamie:
"I saw a sign among the war protesters/supporters down below our office today that said: “ONLY PIGS CAN PREVENT A JIHAD.” I am a college graduate with a good job who kind of follows the news and what not. On top of that I have lots of friends who are lots smarter and more knowledgeable on current events than I (all of them actually) and I have yet to find a single person who knows what that sign means. So now you have the opportunity to earn two beers because if you can figure that out you have another one coming. Actually, screw that – if you can tell me what that sign means I’ll buy you a pitcher! You can pick the beer."
Jamie's response:
"Here is what I know about the Pig sign. Muslims believe that pigs are basically the worst being on the planet. They don't eat pork and find them disgusting etc, etc. Most people refer to Jihad as a holy war...but basically you can apply any war coming from that region of the world as a holy war, and that would include the Iraq war, terrorism in general, etc (Bin Laden and his followers believe that their God hates the United States, and thus is fighting a holy war = Jihad.)
So what is the best way to fight Muslims? Use pigs. People think you should use live pigs in airports, put them on planes, outside of buildings, everywhere. How do most terrorists fight? They are suicide bombers, planes in 9/11, etc. So what happens if you blow yourself up when a pig is around? Your spilled blood is then mixed with the blood of a pig, and you are denied your rightful passage into the heavenly destination since for some reason killing yourself in the name of Jihad is honorable and its part of God's will. The pig nullifies that. The sign "only pigs can prevent a jihad" basically just says that war against terrorism is futile since Jihad is religion based, and the whole middle east region is Muslim, thus their warriors for their war is endless and so only a pig can stop the holy war by using the religion against itself.
Its a stretch, but I think that's the logic behind it, and it might have a broader application than my small explanation. I think most people don't really think a pig is the answer, but in anti-war terms, it just means that there might be a better possibility to help us fight terrorism. I like beer."
This is me again...I have no idea if that is correct in any way but I was very impressed. Now THAT, my friends, is a guy who really likes beer! Jamie - you have a pitcher of beer coming your way!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The Costa Rica Jungle Story
I really can't believe I haven't posted this story yet as it's quite amusing. Three or four years ago the wife and I went to Costa Rica with Jared and Lindsay.
The story begins with Jared and Lindsay arriving in Costa Rica a day before us. After flying all night we arrived and they were at the airport in our Mitsubishi Montero rental waiting to pick us up. We were headed to a resort called The Sanctuary a few hours outside of Liberia (the second biggest city in Costa Rica where we landed). After stopping in town to pick up groceries, beer and liquor for most of the week we then got gas and were on the "road." I say "road" because a Costa Rican highway could best be described as a back country road here in the USA - no lines, no curbs, very few ragged street signs, slightly paved years ago, etc. Whatever, you get the drift. Jared informs us that its about an hour and a half to the resort. We are excited.
After driving for about 20 minutes Jared hangs a right off of the "highway" onto...a gravel road. At this point I thought maybe Jared or Lindsay needed to pee or to get a pop out of the back of the car. Nope - it was the way to the resort. So now we are on a gravel road and we still have an hour plus left to drive. Whatever, I was tired and hot and I really wanted to get there so I could take a poo and have a drink.
So we drive for about 20 minutes on the gravel road and there are some very small "towns" with a few houses every 10 minutes or so but basically we are out in the middle of the freaking jungle. At this point our nice Mitsubishi Montero stops working. Just to recap, we are in Costa Rica, in the jungle, in a rental car that has stopped working, it's about 105 degrees out, and it's 4:00pm and it gets dark every night at 6:00pm sharp. Oh, and I have to take a dump like no body's business. I should also mention that Jared and I could fairly be described as car morons. We can both fill them with fuel, add oil and change a tire but that's about it. So we are all feeling pretty confident at this point.
After trying to will the car to start for a few minutes, Jared and I got out to check under the hood. All the belts were hooked and things seemed to be in good shape. This would be when Darci asked, "does the car take gas or diesel?" We all immediately recalled that the girl who had filled up our car back in town had used gas and after opening the door to the gas cap we found that it said in huge letters, "DIESEL." Apparently some of the girls at the gas stations in Costa Rica don't read very well.
At this point we were officially stranded in the jungle in Costa Rica. So we all started brainstorming and we thought to call the rental car place. Neither Darci or my phone worked but thank God Lindsay had AT&T because it worked. I should also mention another thank God for Jared speaking half decent Spanish because the guy at the rental company did not speak a word of English. Jared explained the situation and the rental company was going to send a guy out with another Montero for us and he would be there in about an hour and a half. This was awesome news because it meant that we would eventually get out of the jungle but it was horrible news for me because I had to poop!
So we are sitting there in the jungle sweating and trying not to poo when I remember that we have all the beer and booze that we just bought in the trunk! If we are gonna be stranded we might as well have some fun with it right? Darci is too scared of dying and now Lindsay also has to poop and is also scared of dying so just Jared and I enjoyed a couple of scorching hot whiskey and Coke Lights (in Costa Rica it's Light not Diet).
After a few drinks a super duper dirty Jeep drives by and then stops. The guy gets out and starts talking to us (Jared later told me what he said, I had no clue). He asked if we needed help and Jared let him know that another car was on the way. The guy seemed very nice. Then Jared started saying some more stuff to him and then all of a sudden I heard him utter a phrase that I will never forget as long as I live, "mi Amiga y mi amigo necesstio numero dos." This sent Costa Rican guy into prolonged laughter. After he calmed down he thought for a few minutes and then offered to take Lindsay and me to his friends place down the road so we could numero dos. Jared explained and off Lindsay and I went with Mario Rosales Gonzalez further into the Costa Rican jungle. By honey!
Mario takes us about five minutes down the "road" and turns over little bridge and into...an absolutely beautiful ranch. This place was awesome: palm trees, painted perfectly, trimmed lawn, huge shiny porch, big swimming pool out back. Mario hops out and runs up to the pool and talks to what seems to be the owner who waves us into the bathroom - THANK GOD! The most amazing thing was that I let Lindsay go first. What a gentleman I am. Then Mario took us back to Darci and Jared stranded in the jungle. Thanks Mario.
This is absolutely NOT the end of this story.
We wait for a while longer (Jared and I are still sipping on 105 degree whiskey and Coke Light by the way) when another car drives up and stops right behind us. I am completely certain that the driver is former NFL star Marshall Faulk with his wife and kids. It wasn't. But it was a nice guy who looked EXACTLY like former NFL star Marshall Faulk and his family that Jared and Lindsay had met at our resort the night before. They offered to take us and/or our stuff to the resort. Since it was about 5:30 and starting to get dark we had them take Lindsay and Darci along with the groceries to the resort. Off they went leaving Jared and I sitting in the Costa Rican jungle waiting for some guy to show up with a new rental car.
Another 30 minutes pass and the guy shows up with our new Mitsubishi Montero. Yessssss! The guy is real nice and brought all the paperwork and everything. So we filled everything out and then he asked for the credit card. No problem since we had 3 or 4 between us...nope, he needed THE credit card that we reserved the car with which was Lindsay's credit card which was now with her at the resort. Shit. This guy makes it clear that he has to have that card or he can't give us the car. Jared asks if he and I can drive to the resort and bring him back the card. Understandably the guy says no since we haven't technically rented the new car yet. Rental Car Guy can't leave the car just sitting there and Rental Car Guy has no idea where our resort is and I have even less of an idea where I am. So I offer up the solution of Jared and Rental Car Guy going to the resort to get the card and I will stay with the broken down car. It's the only solution. We all agree.
This sounds simple enough right? Well, keep a few facts in mind: it is 5:45pm and it gets totally dark at 6:00pm, the resort is about 45 minutes away - one way - and I'm in sitting in the middle of the freaking Costa Rican jungle by myself in a broken down car. Then it starts to rain. Hard. So that's the bad news. The good news is that even though we sent all the luggage and groceries to the resort I kept a full bottle of whiskey, a 105 degree bottle of Coke Light and a cup.
I'm not sure about you but if I'm going to get kidnapped by some Costa Rican jungle militants or killed by a gang of monkeys I might as well be drunk! So I start mixing myself drinks. After another 3 or 4 very stiff drinks I remembered that while the car wouldn't run the battery was still working great so I turned on the radio. I pushed the Seek button one time and I shit you not - crystal clear classic rock came on. And apparently the Costa Rican's love Led Zeppelin just as much as I do because they played Led freaking Zeppelin for the next hour straight.
If this story doesn't convince you that I truly find things to be way more amusing than most and that I have more fun than 99% of the population then I just don't know what to say. I sat in the back of a Mitsubishi Montero with the tailgate open in the Costa Rican jungle in 105 degree heat in pouring rain in the dark by myself slugging whiskey, blaring Led Zeppelin and playing the air drums for an hour and I'm not gonna lie to you; I had an AWESOME time!
Jared and Rental Car Guy showed up a few hours later and we were off. The resort was awesome and we had an amazing time. But I will never forget my time in the Costa Rican Jungle. Or Mario Rosales Gonzalez.
The story begins with Jared and Lindsay arriving in Costa Rica a day before us. After flying all night we arrived and they were at the airport in our Mitsubishi Montero rental waiting to pick us up. We were headed to a resort called The Sanctuary a few hours outside of Liberia (the second biggest city in Costa Rica where we landed). After stopping in town to pick up groceries, beer and liquor for most of the week we then got gas and were on the "road." I say "road" because a Costa Rican highway could best be described as a back country road here in the USA - no lines, no curbs, very few ragged street signs, slightly paved years ago, etc. Whatever, you get the drift. Jared informs us that its about an hour and a half to the resort. We are excited.
After driving for about 20 minutes Jared hangs a right off of the "highway" onto...a gravel road. At this point I thought maybe Jared or Lindsay needed to pee or to get a pop out of the back of the car. Nope - it was the way to the resort. So now we are on a gravel road and we still have an hour plus left to drive. Whatever, I was tired and hot and I really wanted to get there so I could take a poo and have a drink.
So we drive for about 20 minutes on the gravel road and there are some very small "towns" with a few houses every 10 minutes or so but basically we are out in the middle of the freaking jungle. At this point our nice Mitsubishi Montero stops working. Just to recap, we are in Costa Rica, in the jungle, in a rental car that has stopped working, it's about 105 degrees out, and it's 4:00pm and it gets dark every night at 6:00pm sharp. Oh, and I have to take a dump like no body's business. I should also mention that Jared and I could fairly be described as car morons. We can both fill them with fuel, add oil and change a tire but that's about it. So we are all feeling pretty confident at this point.
After trying to will the car to start for a few minutes, Jared and I got out to check under the hood. All the belts were hooked and things seemed to be in good shape. This would be when Darci asked, "does the car take gas or diesel?" We all immediately recalled that the girl who had filled up our car back in town had used gas and after opening the door to the gas cap we found that it said in huge letters, "DIESEL." Apparently some of the girls at the gas stations in Costa Rica don't read very well.
At this point we were officially stranded in the jungle in Costa Rica. So we all started brainstorming and we thought to call the rental car place. Neither Darci or my phone worked but thank God Lindsay had AT&T because it worked. I should also mention another thank God for Jared speaking half decent Spanish because the guy at the rental company did not speak a word of English. Jared explained the situation and the rental company was going to send a guy out with another Montero for us and he would be there in about an hour and a half. This was awesome news because it meant that we would eventually get out of the jungle but it was horrible news for me because I had to poop!
So we are sitting there in the jungle sweating and trying not to poo when I remember that we have all the beer and booze that we just bought in the trunk! If we are gonna be stranded we might as well have some fun with it right? Darci is too scared of dying and now Lindsay also has to poop and is also scared of dying so just Jared and I enjoyed a couple of scorching hot whiskey and Coke Lights (in Costa Rica it's Light not Diet).
After a few drinks a super duper dirty Jeep drives by and then stops. The guy gets out and starts talking to us (Jared later told me what he said, I had no clue). He asked if we needed help and Jared let him know that another car was on the way. The guy seemed very nice. Then Jared started saying some more stuff to him and then all of a sudden I heard him utter a phrase that I will never forget as long as I live, "mi Amiga y mi amigo necesstio numero dos." This sent Costa Rican guy into prolonged laughter. After he calmed down he thought for a few minutes and then offered to take Lindsay and me to his friends place down the road so we could numero dos. Jared explained and off Lindsay and I went with Mario Rosales Gonzalez further into the Costa Rican jungle. By honey!
Mario takes us about five minutes down the "road" and turns over little bridge and into...an absolutely beautiful ranch. This place was awesome: palm trees, painted perfectly, trimmed lawn, huge shiny porch, big swimming pool out back. Mario hops out and runs up to the pool and talks to what seems to be the owner who waves us into the bathroom - THANK GOD! The most amazing thing was that I let Lindsay go first. What a gentleman I am. Then Mario took us back to Darci and Jared stranded in the jungle. Thanks Mario.
This is absolutely NOT the end of this story.
We wait for a while longer (Jared and I are still sipping on 105 degree whiskey and Coke Light by the way) when another car drives up and stops right behind us. I am completely certain that the driver is former NFL star Marshall Faulk with his wife and kids. It wasn't. But it was a nice guy who looked EXACTLY like former NFL star Marshall Faulk and his family that Jared and Lindsay had met at our resort the night before. They offered to take us and/or our stuff to the resort. Since it was about 5:30 and starting to get dark we had them take Lindsay and Darci along with the groceries to the resort. Off they went leaving Jared and I sitting in the Costa Rican jungle waiting for some guy to show up with a new rental car.
Another 30 minutes pass and the guy shows up with our new Mitsubishi Montero. Yessssss! The guy is real nice and brought all the paperwork and everything. So we filled everything out and then he asked for the credit card. No problem since we had 3 or 4 between us...nope, he needed THE credit card that we reserved the car with which was Lindsay's credit card which was now with her at the resort. Shit. This guy makes it clear that he has to have that card or he can't give us the car. Jared asks if he and I can drive to the resort and bring him back the card. Understandably the guy says no since we haven't technically rented the new car yet. Rental Car Guy can't leave the car just sitting there and Rental Car Guy has no idea where our resort is and I have even less of an idea where I am. So I offer up the solution of Jared and Rental Car Guy going to the resort to get the card and I will stay with the broken down car. It's the only solution. We all agree.
This sounds simple enough right? Well, keep a few facts in mind: it is 5:45pm and it gets totally dark at 6:00pm, the resort is about 45 minutes away - one way - and I'm in sitting in the middle of the freaking Costa Rican jungle by myself in a broken down car. Then it starts to rain. Hard. So that's the bad news. The good news is that even though we sent all the luggage and groceries to the resort I kept a full bottle of whiskey, a 105 degree bottle of Coke Light and a cup.
I'm not sure about you but if I'm going to get kidnapped by some Costa Rican jungle militants or killed by a gang of monkeys I might as well be drunk! So I start mixing myself drinks. After another 3 or 4 very stiff drinks I remembered that while the car wouldn't run the battery was still working great so I turned on the radio. I pushed the Seek button one time and I shit you not - crystal clear classic rock came on. And apparently the Costa Rican's love Led Zeppelin just as much as I do because they played Led freaking Zeppelin for the next hour straight.
If this story doesn't convince you that I truly find things to be way more amusing than most and that I have more fun than 99% of the population then I just don't know what to say. I sat in the back of a Mitsubishi Montero with the tailgate open in the Costa Rican jungle in 105 degree heat in pouring rain in the dark by myself slugging whiskey, blaring Led Zeppelin and playing the air drums for an hour and I'm not gonna lie to you; I had an AWESOME time!
Jared and Rental Car Guy showed up a few hours later and we were off. The resort was awesome and we had an amazing time. But I will never forget my time in the Costa Rican Jungle. Or Mario Rosales Gonzalez.
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