As I peck, an ice cold Beam is by my side, with the vigilance of a medieval knight. Duke just ripped Maryland 85-44. Unbelievable. I have a feeling that Juan Dixon, Chris Wilcox, and Stevie Blake aren’t walking through that door. My friends, I’ve sunk to a new low, and am completely and utterly embroiled in college hoops today, seeing the Super Bowl isn’t until next week.
Since it’s a relatively slow day in the sports world, I will share a blow by blow account of how today’s madness has transpired in the city of steel:
I wake up totally shit-faced from last night, and decide to watch the epic movie 300.
I make a spear out of paper towel rolls, duct tape, and adorn an archery broadhead on the end to emphasize the “I’m going to fuck shit up with this” factor. The actual paper from the rolls is everywhere, and “mom” is not too happy that old steel is in the grips of a full-fledged Saturday morning bender. I may not get laid for months after this, but someone has to represent Sparta for crissakes.
Piece of crap breaks after one thrust, and I realize my lunacy can only be cured with a stiff drink. My head feels more swollen than Radolpho Marin’s after 2 rounds with Riddick Bowe. Instead of retreating, the pour is double. Sparta would have wanted that way.
Some guy on TV just got shot in the face, and I’m not impressed. Violence is at an all-time low these days on the tube, and it’s only a matter of time before our society eliminates it completely. We live in a country founded by prudes, but for some obscure reason, the staple/thread of America has, and always will be brutally punctuated with violence. Domestic abuse is no laughing matter, but I can’t help but chuckle when I think about the professional wrestler named Navajo Warrior backhanding some broad at a show that took place in a shitty dive bar last year. I went to get drunk, and got more that day. Much more….
Just passed out for almost an hour, and my Spartan bretherin need support. Time to rally. The shitbox has some annoying Big East game on. Apparently South Florida has a basketball team, and they fucking suck. Matt Groethe, and his hilarious mohawk, couldn’t even save this sinking ship. Florida should stick to what they know, high school football. Gators Schmaters, Noah=Cancer of the Bulls.
More booze, and lots of it. My buddy is here watching the Tivo of a new Lost episode. I would rather drink piss for eternity than watch 3 seconds of that crappy show. Attn:David Lynch: Make a sequel to Twin Peaks or something else generally fucked up, I miss good TV that doesn’t involve somebody getting shot in the face for no apparent reason.
We have reached the PM’s, which means I have to step up my A game. The bottle has been swilled dry, and I’m dipping into a case of Ribs (that’s PBR dumb ass). Hopefully, I can stay coherent enough to take the mrs. to her office party tonight, where I can wear a soiled Santa hat, and generally humiliate myself and others in the general vicinity. Perhaps a hooker and another bottle would be more interesting, and productive, at this point.
I have officially taken a proverbial “turn for the worse.” Miss Steelhead is pissed that im blottoed, typing on the squakbox, and have no intentions of showering or putting on, as she would say, people clothes. I already explained strippers don’t care what you wear, but she doesn’t seem to comprehend, and is less than pleased with my irrational behavior. Gents, don’t date: and if you do, look forward to having everything you’ve ever loved and cared about thrown in a dumpster. My DVD of the 85 Bears was thrown away because a certain someone got sick of my staying up all night drinking, watching that show, and sobbing uncontrollably 5 nights a week. Nevermind, scratch that. The squeeze on the back of my neck right now has changed my opinion on this matter drastically.
I’ve gotta run (i.e. drink). Enjoy another Saturday, and as always, keep the bourbon chilled….. -SH
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