Eye of the tiger

Jocky Wilson rose to stardom during the golden era of darts.  it was a moment in time when a bunch of overweight, drunk, chain smoking blokes were referred to as ‘athletes’.  By 1989 darts had emerged from the dingy, beer sodden, smoke filled pubs of England onto the glittering stage of prime time television.

Who will ever forget the final moments of the 1989 World Championship when Jocky Wilson, smelling of fags and perspiring larger, tossed the winning dart.  He is much admired by so many….good luck Jocky.

Well, this Thanksgiving was rather…..hmm…..Different. Mother had a bit too much to drink so my assistance was highly called for, and when I say assistance….this includes me being a human balance beam. The fact that this year we didnt go with a full traditional turkey was frowned upon. Instead, we went with 2 boneless honeysuckle turkey breasts. My grandparents seemed quite disappointed with this change however it didnt matter to me considering I didn’t even eat at the time dinner was served because of a friend demanded I meet him instantly to return his CD or it would be unacceptable. That and I had already gotten really full on the appetizers, overall the dinner preparation was a bit rushed, I will still give dinner a B- (considering my assistance) Because, not to brag, cough cough, I am a whiz in the kitchen…..I think I ate too much whipped cream as well….ugg, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

These things take forever to type out, so heres the beginning for now:

Introduction:

Holy friggin’ crap!  It’s Whoopi time again bitches and we’re going to whoop it up!  (Pun completely intended)  If I were to compare my mystical journey to the Louis and Clark expedition again I’d say we’re about to enter Sioux territory.  Yes, unfamiliar territory, but the unknown must be discovered, and I must continue!  My Sacagawea Indian Native American Tonto lady, also known as Netflix, is pregnant…pregnant with Whoopi movies for me to deliver commentary to you!  (This pun is also very much intended)  Today’s viewing is “Eddie.”  I have no idea what this movie is, but the poster shows Whoopi with basketball, which, as you know, Whoopi and basketball go together like vinegar and baking soda.  This means this movie is going to EXPLODE with excitement like a volcano at a 5th grade science fair!  (Pun 3, completely on a roll, don’t stop me now)  Now, let the summary from Netflix with thrown in commentary commence!

Eddie, Whoopi Goldberg, channels her late husband’s passion for basketball by coaching inner-city kids (is there such a thing as an outer-city kid?) and cheering the New York Knicks, who are plagued by a losing streak (Doesn’t sound too fictional).

Yeah, That's Dennis Rodman

In a quirky twist (A TWIST!?  I thought M. Night Shyamalan was legally the only one allowed touse twists!), Eddie becomes the Knicks’ new coach and promptly whips them into shape  (Literally with a whip, until Moses was all like “Let my people go!”)  Guest appearances by few National Basketball Association (That’s what NBA stands for apparently) players, including Dennis Rodman (No need to insert a stupid joke after that), John Salley, Malik Sealy and Spud Webb, make this sports comedy a slam-dunk. (Seems Netflix beat me at my pun game, touché Netflix, touché)

Prediction:
Well obviously Whoopi’s husband dies.  Then she starts coaching basketball for under privileged kids, aka poor kids.  Her husband is going to visit her in spirit, most likely give her tips, and the occasional high five.  Then what happens?  The kids turn into basketball geniuses, because they all learn to work as a team, plus when they’re going in for a basket they all form what they call the “Flying V,” which is kind of like a formation birds make when they fly south for the winter, only much sportier. Then Whoopi is going to completely ditch the poor kids saying, “I’m going pro bitches!”  Then she’s going to coach the New York Knicks, and they’re going to win the Super Bowl.  Yeah, that’s right, basketball players winning the Super Bowl, put that in your VCR and play it!  Ok, I was trying to come up with something like, “Put that in your pipe and smoke it,” but really didn’t pull it off too well.  This prediction is retarded.  OK, so it’s going to be a mix of the Mighty Ducks, and Angels In The Outfield, except with poor kids and Dennis Rodman.

I was just about to go to bed actually, but I was reminded of this drinking game some of my dear friends and I devised at a house party in the summer, and thought I’d better put it down in writing before I actually forget the rules. We never did think of a good name for it, so I have taken the liberty of giving it a name myself.

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Loser Stays On

The drinking game of misfortune

You will need:
Friends
DRINK!
Table/floor/hooker’s back/other flat surface
Pack of standard cards

Rules:

Shuffle the cards and spread out on the table face down. Select someone to go first, (s)he picks up one card from the table, as does the person to the left.

Show cards. The person with the highest card is the winner. The loser must take a drink, and continue on to the next round, competing with the next person in the circle.

If both cards show the same number, both competitors must take a drink, and select new cards.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Card games are usually a pain in the ass as drinking games, because they are usually slow-paced and complicated. This game is simple, fast, and completely hilarious when someone (usually me) hits a losing streak and just has to keep on drinking.

So there you have it. I’m going to bed now. But first:

Congratulations to the guys at the LHC for their new record: both beams reached 1.8 TeV this morning! Yay: SCIENCE!

This has been making its rounds on the blogs, but it’s too good to pass up.

TV journalist Katie Couric, whose revelatory interviews of Sarah Palin and Lil’ Wayne will always breathe warmth into our hearts, apparently can groove, grind, and gyrate like those girls I see on the MTV. According to the Gawker, these pictures were taken at the 2006 after-party following Couric’s debut as news anchor at CBS Evening News, and found in a Facebook album wonderfully titled “Four Martini Mimimum”. Good, if we invite her to Middlebury, she can do a one-two punch: special lecture on journalism followed by Bunker grindfest.

!!!

]]> http://themalleablereality.wordpress.com/2009/11/29/in-all-honesty-it-is-one-of-the-few-things-i-actually-remember-from-friday-night/ Sun, 29 Nov 2009 21:40:38 +0000 themalleablereality http://themalleablereality.wordpress.com/2009/11/29/in-all-honesty-it-is-one-of-the-few-things-i-actually-remember-from-friday-night/

I am on the phone to J reliving last night’s drunken escapades, of which she was not a part since she is currently dying of pneumonia/leprosy/man flu/some other random illness. “Yeah and SA Captain gave us dance lessons in the middle of the club!” I say enthusiastically. “What?! I want dance lessons,” she says sadly. “Yeah well you weren’t there, there was,” I pause to count in my head how many of us girls were stood in a circle around him, “me and three others and he was teaching us how to side step, it was so funny!” I start giggling at the memory. “And then he was trying to teach us what to do with the hands but he got a bit enthusiastic and we got confused so he quickly backtracked, apologised and we went back to doing sidesteps…”

domingo e vinho tinto, simples assim.

Tonight was a gong show. Me and Kylie went to the brewhouse and Jaycie and her friend showed up already half cut. They then proceeded to polish off a bottle of wine and a few shots in between. Jaycie spilled wine on my shirt. A bunch of other people showed up from work and things really got going. Bobby wasn’t there and everyone was getting very drunk but me. My friend Tasha who lives in the same building as me was there as well. She sent her boyfriend home with the car and got super drunk. Bobby showed up at about 1 in the morning. He caught a ride home with Kylie and me and Tasha. Tasha then proceeded to ask Bobby if he was spending the night at my house. FML. It was incredibly embarrassing. Bobby said no and Tasha continued to talk about it and ask why he wasn’t. We got home and Parker wasn’t answering the door and I started to panic. I wasn’t going to let Tasha spend the night at my house. He finally answered and I shoved her in the door and said goodnight. Fuck.

I work at a bar with this guy that I thought was just a good friend. He’s even hung out with my boyfriend and me on several occasions. Then one night, a bunch of us co workers get drunk, and next think you know– he is all over me– trying to touch me and giving major creepy vibes. I’m grossed out and tell him to stop– it’s inappropriate. He chases me down and tells me, “Wait,  I have to tell you something!” I’m like, “What is it?” He repeats, “I have to tell you something.” I’m waiting for it, but he doesn’t say anything. That’s it. What a douchebag.

Hey guys!

I’m back home! Sorry about the super-brief post, just wasn’t feeling the blogness with people around me. Blogging is something I like to do alone, mostly because all my feelings and thoughts come to me more clearly and uncontaminated. I think I like blogging more than I like a diary or even talking to people directly about my problems or anything, for that matter. It’s crazy to me to think that anyone could see what I write, from my mom, or a teacher or someone random who maybe works at a store I like, or someone who see’s me alot, but doesn’t know I write this blog. It’s interesting, i guess. Anyways, here I am, and I’m alone, so I’m gonna blog.

Holidays are really fun for me. Well for a while they weren’t that great, but recently I’ve reunited with a part of my family that I haven’t seen/talked to in 4 years. Idk how or why it happened, but miraculously, we all reunited for my great0uncles 75th birthday and its been great from there! Thanksgiving is an especially good holiday, because everyone is in good spirits, lots of delicious food, its a holiday that is hard to spend without family, and the sales after rock. Another weird thing I noticed about holidays is that there’s alot of booze, therefore alot of truth comes out when you wouldn’t expect it. It all started when my aunt said that she didn’t approve of homosexuality and my mother went in for the rebuttal, note that both of them are drunk. From there it spirals into many a conversations aabout feeling like the odd man out in the family, drugs, alcohol, Christianity. It was an intense night, but I was forced to question the actual meat of the conversation due to both sides drunkenness. Anyways I’d chalk it up to a good holiday. After thanksgiving sales, I have to admit, weren’t too hot this year. Maybe it’s just me?

Has anyone ever been in a situation where you’ve been in one scenario for so long that you actually think it is normal. And then you witness other people’s situation ’s and realize that yours is not at all normal? Well I had that revelation these past few days. Some people realize that maybe the way they dress isn’t normal, or maybe that the relationship their in isn’t healthy. But me, I realized my relationship with my mother isn’t normal. This weekend I noticed that my cousins talk alot to their mother (my aunt) about just things….nothing in particular. But with me, my mom never talks to me expect when its a command or complaint. Also, when we do talk about other things it seems very forced and fake, or like she’s just writing off everything I said. It’s kind of depressing, and ever since she got her Blackberry, she NEVER talks to me inside the house. In the midst, of all this nonchalance about what I have to say, or what I think, she also almost shot me over the mention of me going to college somewhere far away from home. So I don’t know, maybe it’s something I need to work on. And I don’t wan to tell her anything because she’ll get mad, but I realized too she smokes and drinks way more than normal. Hm…

Well on the break up front, I think I’m doing well. I don’t really think about him too much, only when I hear a song about relationships or something like that. I mostly just listen to my music and it helps me get by, also with my family around me it helped me forget alot about the situation and realize all the things I have to be happy about in life, I’m a senior in high school, I have family that loves me, I am healthy, there’s a roof over my head, and most of all, I know God. I also realized that there’s alot of things I have to be sad about, instead of him ; like the fact that my mom is an alcoholic and doesn’t like me very much, or that I’m getting pimples from all the stress from the break-up. I also started talking to one of my male friends, one of few…and I feel better that at least I have a male to vent to to see their perspective. I get sick of females sometimes. I still miss him everyday though…

Anyways tomorrow I have alot of stuff to do, since I’ve been away from home for a week now…well 5 days. So I’ll blog when I have times.

Thanks for reading again

[Today I went to a football game and decided I didn't want to blog, so I asked my sister to do it for me. Don't be too hard on her. She's new to this whole blogging thing, but also, feel free to be hard on her because it will be funny.]

Hellloooooo friends. Melissa (Ashley’s sister) signing in. I apologize ahead of time, as I am not nearly as witty or intelligent of a writer (WARNING, WARNING!). Yet, as they say in the world of beer pong, darts and other highly sophisticated sports (what????), I am her “celebrity shot,” if you will.

Following the historic and alcohol lined road that is the celebrity shot, I too might seem to be drunk (i.e. I will probably ramble . . . a lot), and in no way will I care if I fail to make the crucial, arc shot into the last cup (this is code for my blogging skills are probably sh**). Although, along with the best drunks that have been honored as a celebrity shooter, I am just trying to have fun, and fun I will have.  (Side note: Perhaps my lack of pong ambition is why I am rarely asked to be a celebrity shooter?? Just saying.)

Soooo,  some of you may be wondering why I have a picture of Sweet Lou as my icon (Lou Pinella, manager of the Cubs). He clearly has nothing to do with beer pong . . . other than in his day he may have been a shining star of the sport (just look at him, he looks like he can throw back a few . . . yes?). Now, he is baseball, and I love baseball. More importantly, I love Chicago, the city where his team–those Cubbies– reside. I was lucky enough to travel to Chi-town this summer and visit the ivy walls of Wrigley Field. The city changed my life. I have felt for some time that I have wanted to move and find adventures in a big city. But now it seems these adventures could be a reality for me.  Hey Chicago, whaddya say? Should I move there today??

Now, who wants to go play beer pong?? Seriously.

CHEERS!

Ho Ho Ho, the subbies are out tonight!! Forcing them to drink and confess is the theme tonight!! been playing since noon today and my UPS man is going to be exhausted delivering items from my wishlist to the door!! LOL. Thinking of a few tonight I would love to hear from; TONY, KEVIN FROM WASHINGTON DC, MATT from the UK, and MY CRUISE SLAVE………………………….

Female #1: “I don’t know what it is exactly, but it’s something.”

Female #2: “It’s spectacular.”

Female #3: “The hangover?”

Female #2: “Yes, the hangover. She (gestures to Female #1) hip checked me at work today and I said very loudly, ‘Don’t jostle me.’ This alarmed people. I think they were concerned I might vomit on you (looks at Female #1). Probably because I said, ‘Do you want me to vomit on you?’ Then people started teasing and saying, ‘I’m going to jostle you.’ That’s when I remembered someone asking me the night before, ‘Are you gonna party afterwards?’ I said, ‘Yeah, I’ve been known to party.’ When I remembered that moment, I knew it was the hangover.”

is equal to trying to get home a decent way.

- try to 5 times to login correctly

- bit your backspace 24 times to write correct words

- feel awfully bad into your stomach

- agree that it is better to get into bed

Thank you for hte nice dinner and lovely wines brother.

It was great tonight. Maybe a =it to great.

*grin&*

Johnny and Mack, my Scottish traveling companions, have introduced me to exactly how much a Scotsman can drink. It’s a lot. We’re hanging out in Melbourne while they wait word on whether or not they are going to go back to the oil derrick or move on to other employment.

The key trick to touring with drunken Scots is to get your drunk on early in the day. With a nice buzz on, any normal tourist junk becomes a wonderful drunken staggering thing. You have to moderate by maintaining enough sense so that the tour authorities don’t kick you out, so there’s no puking allowed. Other than that though, adventure awaits the intrepid sot.

Because I’m not as skilled a drinker as either Johnny or Mack, I am the designated nanny. It’s up to me to handle tickets and money and itinerary. It’s up to them to sing raucous songs and generally flirt with any young lass that strikes their fancy. Which pretty much means any female who seems to be breathing (and a few statues that weren’t).

Case in point: Puffing Billy is a narrow gauge steam engine that takes a couple of hours to slowly chug its way from Belgrave, through Lakeside and to Gembrook. You can sit with your feet dangling out a smallish boxcar as the train moves slowly along. Naturally, Johnny decided it might be a good idea to jump off, run alongside the train and jump back on. This, of course, is forbidden, but he didn’t think they’d stop the train to make trouble. So, we get to Lakeside park, Johnny jumps off and starts running — directly into one of those smooth-barked trees they have all over. Falls flat on his butt.

Seeing this, Mack lets out a holler and leaps from the boxcar too. He tumbles right away but I notice he’s holding his flask out like a soldier holding a rifle out of the water. What could I do? My charges had deserted the train. I jumped too. Nothing heroic, the train only goes about 8 kph anyway.

The embarrassing part was following the tracks through the rest of the park to the station so we could take the next train. I have to admit that these two have a knack for just skirting the edge of behavior allowed. At the zoo, they were filling their mouths with water and shooting streams through pursed lips at the, as Mack said, “Purrr litta creaturrrrs carsed by the good Lard”. It was pretty funny seeing a Koala with a wet and puzzled face. I think part of how they get away with it is the strong Scottish brogue they can pull  out when they need it — or when they’ve passed some alcohol level.

They haven’t gotten into any fights yet, unless you count verbal sparring. At the Belgrave station, Johnny, who talked us into the trip and apparently knows something about trains, kept insisting that ‘Puffing Billy’ wasn’t the oldest functioning steam locomotive. He said he’d seen something called the Wylum Dilly in Edinburgh and that Australians were out to con the tourists. The poor guide admitted that this wasn’t the original Puffing Billy, but that the original (in a museum in England, or New York, I forget) was older than the Wylum Dilly.

“Ach Mon, Ye dinna know yer arse from a one pint five two four meter cast iron dramway!”

Love these guys.

Son dos borrachos en una fiesta de quince años sacando sus mejores dotes de bailarines. En el video original bailan un rayito de sol. En mi versión bailan una rola de Daft Punk llamada Crescendolls. Enjoy!

I think… MAAAAAAAAAYBE… just maybe, Paranormal Activity would be better if I was high. (seeing as when I saw it [and hated it] the last time, I was drunk and Mystery Science Theater-ing throughout the whole thing). I was completely wrong. It was worse. I officially HATE Paranormal Activity. I hope it dies a horrible firey death… alone.

YouTube - Fight! Transsexual Brawl in L.A..

It’s so nice to see a story that doesn’t involve a cheating man, a violent marriage or worse still, “My doctor lover poisoned me to kill our baby.” (Now Magazine ,9 Nov 2009)

Reported in the Mirror yesterday is the tragic accident of a “perfect boyfriend” who is said to have plummeted to his death after trying not to wake his missus up.

William Styles, 23, was at a pub quiz with his partner Jessie Wallace, 21.

She had gone home early, taking their only set of keys.

The sports instructor who taught windsurfing climbed the walls of their homes in order to avoid pressing the doorbell.

William then plunged 18ft from the ground floor to a basement level.

After sustaining severe head injuries he lay unconscious on the street in Plymouth, before being found by a neighbour the next morning.

William was taken to intensive care but died the following day.

Jessie said: “He was the perfect boyfriend. I feel like I’ve lost my entire world. He did more in his short life than people do in their long lives.

“Maybe he didn’t want me to wake up.”

Now I know people of the sceptical kind will ask questions like “Was the man drunk?” or say he could have been climbing the wall for a different reason. But I’m sure for Jesse it’s a comforting thought believing her boyfriend died putting her needs first; if he would go this far just to make sure she slept undisturbed, what would he do in a life-threatening situation?

I suppose the only person who will ever truly know is William himself.

But for now the story should be taken for what it is- an act of chivalry so rarely seen in these present times.

All together now, “Awwwwwww”