New Year, New T-Shirts

The other day I clicked on the ad on this blog (possibly a violation of my Terms of Service agreement) and was led to an hilarious t-shirt store. It got me thinking about shirts that would be appropriate for several Poopheads to wear in 2010:

TON:


Courtney Friel:


Me:


Freedo:


Nails:


VW:


Master Bates:


Amber:


Mrs. Poop:


The Concierge:


Anonymous hot girlfriend wife of anonymous Poophead (look down if you think I'm talking about you)


Me:


Juice:


And a shirt so fantastic, so digusting and so offensive I couldn't even put its picture on this blog: click here if you dare.

Note: if you didn't get a t-shirt dedicated to you make it your New Year's resolution to have more personality in 2010.

Focks Wedding

Matt and Julie looked cute enough to be the bride and groom on top of the wedding cake -- and short enough too. Badum chhh, thanks Juice.



The Focks affair was a delightful event at the Bethpage State Park, right near the famed Bethpage black course which occassionally hosts golf's US Open.

The grounds were so nice they elected an outdoor ceremony -- in the middle of August. Being the sweaty Jew that I am, I was schvitzing before the bride even made her way down the aisle. In retrospect it might have been our fault for choosing to sit on the empty side rather than the crowded side, which was crowded because it was in the shade.

I survived the ceremony, which was beautiful by the way and made it to the cocktail hour, thankfully. I have heard that the food was delicious, but I wouldn't know because I spent all my time at the mashed potatoes station. This is something I was praying would be at another wedding since I didn't really get to enjoy it at my own.

This would be just the beginning of the delicious food I would enjoy, but more on that later.

The fireworks really started when somehow Juice convinced Mrs. Poop to do a shot of Patron with him. Feeling left out the Juicette and I felt we had to one up them, so we did a shot -- and had sex.



Later Juice tried to order a huge round of Patron shots for all assembled until a woman intercepted a shot intended for her daughter, chastising Juice with a "she's only 16."



Later that same girl was telling Amber and I that her cell phone had been taken away because she went over her minutes and sent too many texts. Sounds like cute, very typical teenage girl behavior. Little did we know.




One of my favorite parts of a Jewish wedding is of course the Hora. Over the years TallSkott and I have become very good at orchestrating the lifting of the bride, groom and immediate family members in the chair. This time we were joined by TON and Juice making a very powerful quartet. We probably could have lifted Brock Lesnar, which is good because it seemed like just about everyone in the place got a ride.



One of the people we lifted -- I think (please forgive any inaccuraccies or omissions in this post, my memory is faulty and my notes were incomplete) was the mother of the groom [corrected: ok, we didn't lift her, the following is accurate anyway]. She was an occassional substitute teacher when I was in elementary school and she still carries those scars to this day. She confronted me about my behavior those many years ago and then proceeded to inform Mrs. Poop about what a "pain in the ass" I was. When I laughed and tried to convince I had changed and become a good man, she didn't seem convinced. Then I told her I had a son of my own now and would probably be cursed by him turning out just like I did, she said "you can't let him."

After that, I was kind of hot and tired again so I went to the bar for a beer and a shot or two.



Dinner, like the cocktail hour, was delicious. I had the filet mignon, Juice has the duck, which I assumed he liked because he screamed out "I want to fuck this duck" while eating.

After a good deal more dancing and partying and drinking, it was time for dessert. Fresh baked cookies, a sundae bar, and a whole bunch of other shit I don't remember eating or seeing because I was too drunk from the Patron, too full from the ice cream or perhaps both.

It started off with a crazed Amber licking sprinkles out of the palm of her hand and saying "they let you eat as many sprinkles as you want."




I then got my own sundae loaded with just about everything you can think of, M&Ms, gummi bears and who knows what else. I also had several chocolate chip cookies and a lemon sorbet to clean my pallette. I never even made it to the other side of the room.

Despite the great location, the great music and dancing and of course the great food, the best part of the Focks wedding was the great friends. The entire crew was there, so were all the ladies (including Mrs. Reissberg, less than two weeks after delivering Darren) and we all had a great time together.

Thanks to Matt and Julie.

Ghosts of St. Patrick's Days Past

Chase last year:



Me 2 years ago:



Juice 2 years ago:

Did He Steal Juice's Gimmick?

Mets Weekly often profiles strange or devoted Mets fans. One fan they chose to profile is a guy who goes by the name, "The King of Brunch."
I guess his first appearance was successful because they decided to give him another try.
After watching him the second time, something struck me, his mannerisms, his pattern of speech, his phraseology, are all eerily similar to Juice.

Lines to watch for:
"I brunch on Wednesdays."
"We're a cross between Barbra Streisand and the Wu-Tang Clan."
"Why don't they make this or this in adult sizes? Imagine me in a Mets onesie."
"Sort of like an iced out Mets logo. I'd wear this."

In case embedding isn't working.



And here's his second appeance:
"I was gonna get a pedicure, I'll cancel it."
"It's like a Bar Mitzvah, it's just exciting."

In case embedding isn't working.

Houseguest

If you a friend with whom you would trust to host another friend of yours traveling to his city, that friend would be Freedo.
If you had a friend who you wouldn't dare suggest stay with another friend of yours, that friend would be Juice.
But despite reservations that Freedo might never talk to him again, Nails sicced Juice on Freedo and Amber this weekend.

Here's Freedo's version of how it went down:

"He arrived Saturday morning in a blaze of glory and departed Sunday evening via red-eye back to the Big Apple just as quickly as he entered our town. After a quick meal at Little Anita’s for some New Mexican food, he enjoyed the sights and sounds of the Cherry Creek Arts Festival. We then departed to show him what true baseball is all about, Coors Field and the Colorado Rockies. His one wish was to get some Rocky Mountain Oysters...cow testicles fried up Rocky Mountain Style!!!





They actually serve them at the Park, and I tried some for the first time (not bad actually). I’ve learned that up north near Fort Collins there is a place called Don’s Bar where they are world famous and have all-you-can-eat Sunday rocky mountain oysters. We had awesome seats 6 rows on top of Rockies dugout and it was a great game (12-6 Rox – Holliday 440 foot bomb to center sealed the deal).




We missed a foul ball by inches because I had a beer in my hand and Juice had slow reaction time. On Sunday we spent almost 5 hours watching the Wimbledon final. I had to endure the stress of Juice as he paced my basement trying to will his boy RodgeFed to victory, only to see Rafa Nadal win one of the greatest tennis matches of all time. He went to a wedding in Boulder on Sunday before heading back to the Big Apple via Jet Blue at 12:55AM. I’m sure he is dying right now at his desk reading this.

All I can tell you is we had an awesome time."

And Amber's version:

"It was memorable!! Crazy Justin definitely lived up to his name. I was shocked and awed by Crazy Justin on numerous occasions, the most being when he ate fried cow balls at the Rockies Game. The Rocky Mountain Oysters were DISGUSTING and some substance began oozing out of them as he ate them."

I asked Juice to respond and all he said was "you can just add was how beautiful their house is and how great hosts they are. Also, that I encourage anyone who has the opportunity to pay them a visit to do so."

Juice Got Off Easy

There is a now famous story going around about how Juice is locked in a fierce battle with his neighbor. It started with Juice's predilection for leaving his wet shoes outside his apartment door. The first time a neighbor complained that his wet shoes were "an eyesore." When complaints didn't work the neighbor put rotten eggs in his shoes. Finally, the neighbor stole Juice's lady friend's leather boots.
Well turns out Juice is lucky he doesn't live next door to Ronnie Ballard.
Felicia Walton was at home in her apartment one day when she heard someone in the hallway say "he shit in someone's Reebok." She opened her apartment door and the shoes she had left in the hallway were full of shit.
The same thing happened to Towanda Cooper who noticed that the boots she left in the hall had been defecated in.
But perhaps Ballard is more of a serial shitter than a campaigner against unsightly hallways.
He is also accused of shitting in a washing machine (twice) ruining a load (pun intended) of whites and a load of baby clothes that Lulu Miller was washing.
The best part of the complaint is that in Wisconsin it is not a crime to shit in someone's shoes, it is only a crime to shit in someone's shoes, without their permission.
So the detective in the case had to ask each victim if they had allowed Ballard to do his deed.
The complaint includes the following quotes:
"she had not given anyone consent to defecate on the clothing."
"she had not given anyone permission to defecate in her shoes and she was disturbed."
"neither she nor Towanda Cooper gave anyone permission to defecate in their boots, or on the floor outside of their apartment."

What Do You Give Me For? Juice and The Preppy Killer

Juice and Robert Chambers aka The Preppy Killer

The Juice is Loose

This video from Scarlet Nation shows the on-field celebration after Rutgers beat South Florida. At about 2 minutes into the video you can see one of our favorite Poopheads screaming and shaking his hair.

The Concierge's Birthday

The Concierge celebrated his 29th birthday Saturday night at the Blue Owl in the East Village. It's down the street from a defunct gay bar, appropriately named "Dick's." The Owl is next to the local neighborhood rub-n-tug.



I was only involved in two conversations the whole night: people only wanted to talk to me about The Poop and Baby Poop.

Half the people wanted to make their own baby and half the people want to make The Poop.

Juice's new gal pal seemed willing to do anything to make the blog and I stupidly forgot to ask her to show her tits. TallSkott and I spent 15 minutes grilling Michelle (we want Juice to find someone special). The leggy 24 year old seems really cool and I think her and Juice will get along very well as long as they can keep their ADHD medications separate.



Funniest moment of the night of course goes to the Concierge on his own birthday. For some reason there was a locked door, behind where we were standing. We had no idea what was behind it, but The Conch said "I bet I can jimmy this lock in 10 seconds." Two seconds later he slams his credit card through crack in the door and 'click' the door opened. Turns out it was just a hallway.



Focks made it out despite his injuries. But here he looks like he's about to vomit on Julie's cleavage.





Juice and his new paramour wanted to dance (probably because neither of them can sit still) so they begged the DJ to play something other than 1920s jazz. Turns out he had an old Tribe record and played about 3 songs in a row. He also played "Respect" off "Ready to Die" and we argued about who the reggae singer was, I said Diana King and of course I was right.

The Blue Owl is the only Manhattan bar I've ever been in that's crowded at 10 and empty at 1. So we cleared out pretty early and while some went back to Focks's sister's to play Guitar Hero I went home secure in the notion that although the Concierge had gotten a year older, he definitely hasn't gotten a year more mature. And that's a good thing.

What Do Paris and Juice Have in Common?

Paris Hilton suffers from extreme Attention Deficit Disorder which may have triggered the Sheriff's decision to spring her from Lynwood Jail last week.

Hilton is taking Adderall for her ADD.

Reports that she was not given her meds and that's responsible for her breakdowns in jail are false. Adderall helps people focus and communicate. It is not a mood stabilizer.

Another Close Call

The Rutgers women were the second team in two nights to take me almost to the mountaintop, only to fall short.
They pulled off that exciting upset over Duke, then powered past Arizona State and LSU.
Tennessee was just too much for them, similar to Florida over Ohio State.
Rutgers, like Ohio State had their chances, but like Ohio State they couldn't hit any outside shots.
This is not the first time a female Rutgers student teased Juice only to leave him with nothing.

Juice's St. Patrick's Day

Story and photos courtesy of Focks:

Julie and I brought Juice to Saloon (84th and York) where many of Julie's friends were celebrating St. Patrick's Day. Upon arriving (8:30pm-ish), we immediately notice every single person is completely wasted. In effort to 'catch up' to everyone, the three of us decide to begin double-fisting Bud Light cans. Julie knows every single bartender (and probably knows 20% of the entire crowd) so we begin doing Jameson shots and chasing them with beer. Once he is finished talking with a few girls (i.e. Girl Juice used to babysit, Irish Charo, Beverly Hills girl, a few of Julie's friends), we go back to the bar and drag Julie to get us more drinks. The bartender explains to us how he lost Juice's (one and only) credit card and tells us drinks are free for the remainder of the night.
As the drinking continues and the bar is utterly chaotic, Juice decides to elevate his speed of inebriation by drinking a full glass of Jameson (as if he is drinking water). The results of this move will prove costly.

As the night rolls on, Julie and I are beginning to lose sight of Justin. At roughly 1am, Julie and I find Juice leaning/swaying against a railing and acknowledge it's time to go because he's about to drop to the floor.

We find a cab and throughout the entire ride, Juice is visibly wasted and mumbling and the non-english speaking driver is laughly hysterically. On the FDR, the driver locked the doors because Juice was trying to open them. We tell the driver he is always like this and not to worry.

As we exit the cab on 18th Street and 3rd Avenue, Juice's drunk hysteria takes full effect as he tries to run north up 3rd avenue away from his building. I immediately chase him and push him toward the building. Of course, he is very stubborn and he drops to the ground.



Fiiiiiinally, he gets off his buttocks, starts walking and then attempts to wrestle me.




At this point, he drops on his back on the freezing cold sidewalk and becomes a disaster.






After about 5 minutes of lying on his back, he turns over and lies his head on the snow.




Of course, he has no idea what is going on; he has no idea that the beige concrete and dirty white snow is not his bed. I'm finally able to physically remove him from the ground and we walk in to the building where the doorman is laughing as well. The three of us get in the elevator. I press 6 (it should have been 3) for Juice and 14 for Julie and me. Juice gets off on the 6th floor and that's the last we see of him. Julie recommends that we stop and go back and help him but after about an hour of his antics, I tell her he will be fine.

His version the next day: Juice wakes up in his apartment and finds a pile of vomit on his rug, which he immediately threw in the garbage. He later asks me how the night was.

Focks Fest

A rousing game of Taboo broke out at Focks' house in celebration of blonde Julie's birthday. The highlights:

My clue: "The gayest movie ever."
The answer: "The Notebook." Shouted out immediately by jusTON who later had to explain to Special K that he really liked the movie and didn't think it was gay. He was simply guessing what I would think was a gay movie.

Mrs. Poop's clue: "she's on crack."
The answer: Whitney Houston, by five people simulataneously.

The Birthday Girl's clue: Your moms are going through this ---
The answer: Menopause, by all the women at once.

After getting only two points in his round, Juice retreated to the bedroom in a pit of despair. He later redeemed himself.

Victory over the vaginas by the testes.

Matt's hosting skills. TON ate like 34 chocolate covered strawberries.

After making fun of Focks, he discarded about 12 bottles of cologne.

The girl with the Scottheads.

Is Jim Nantz Gay?

This was a hot topic of discussion at Nailsfest.
I think Jim Nantz is gay and that it is well known within that community.
Reissberg claims he heard the same thing independently of me.
Juice was shocked when he heard this but quickly came around and started calling him "Jim Nantz-y Boy."
Nantz is married with a daughter but he once said "I'm blessed to have great friends, and there are a lot of men in my life who've been more than just friends."
Outsports.com keeps track of homoerotic comments made by Nantz' partner Phil Simms.
I wish we could get his reaction to the Snickers commercial.

Nailsfest

As expected, the third Nailsfest Super Bowl party was awesome.

I was greeted by most everyone with a "waddup Poop," and I think a few even called Mrs. Poop Mrs. Poop. Still not sure if she likes that.

Seating was at a premium but we got a spot very close and got there early enough to find two good seats in the balcony behind the leather recliners staked out by the Concierge and Juice aka Green-spiggity.

I signed up for 3 boxes, at $3 a pop in the name of Diesel. Then I took my seat.

In typical Nails fashion the food was plentiful; the overflowing candy bowl, the three trays of wings and the delicious food (ribs, brisket, pulled pork, mac and cheese) from Blue Smoke.

For a large crowd, they were pretty well behaved but it was a little hard to hear all the commercials. If you missed any, you can check out this sampling.

Once the game was decided, that's when the action picked up. I had Colts 9, Bears 7 in the boxes. But I was rooting for the Bears. But then it seemed as if the Colts would score again. But they went for it on 4th down deep in Bears' territory. Initially Leary was furious (he had 2,7 and he's always furious) but on further reflection it was the right move. So then we held on through a threatening but meaningless Chicago drive and won the 4th quarter.

The reward: $150 and 5 envelopes of Fun Dip. I quickly gave one each to Mrs. Reissberg and The Conciergette in exchange for their eternal love and devotion.

Then on my way out Mrs. Nails saddled me with a bunch of candy. Then Nails begged me to take a 12 pack of beer because otherwise their fridge was too full. I never felt like taking beer was doing someone a favor before, but I think Nails really wanted me to. And not 10 seconds after I said that I felt like a schnura, Juice saw my haul and said "you're a schnura."

As always a good time was had by all. And next year, if we're not in Jerusalem, I hope we're back at Nails' house.

Green-Spiggity on Cloud 9

Green-Spiggity aka Juice might be touching himself today. One of the world's biggest poopheads, he is also a proud Rutgers alum. He is not a johnny-come lately as last year he tried to get me to post about Rutgers basketball.
The game was a really exciting contest and once they buckled down on defense Louisville had no answers. Rice and Leonard are a dominating running back combination.

And yes the offsides call on the field goal attempt was legitimate.





Now Rutgers has to beat West Virginia. If they do they deserve a shot at the TOSU-Michigan winner. If not they might be relegated to the third place bowl bid out of the Big East.

What is Justin Doing to Himself?

Wedding Blog: Dana & Scott Tie the Knot

If you are lucky enough to have a large group of friends, inevitably some of them will be awkward, especially around girls during high school. But somehow, people grow up and eventually get married, even TallSkott.

I've known TallSkott for about half my life. At first he was a big doof who just wanted everyone to like him, so he gave them candy for a quarter and free movie rentals. I believe TON's Dad still has an outstanding $41 bill at West Coast video (or whatever it was called, neither jusTON nor I can remember).

But Scott always wanted to be your friend, which I think is why he never chose a sports team, he just wanted to run with the crowd. He and I were golfing buddies (until I got struck on the hip by an errant drive). We were a dominant 2 on 2 basketball team (until jusTON and Leary beat us). We were part of an unstoppable Jewish bowling team (until I grew too much to still be called "medium jew"). We were gambling buddies (until we got tired of those long drives back from AC after losing). Strike the last one, we're still gambling buddies and recently played online poker at his apartment.

Which brings me to Dana, you can definitely see Dana's touch in their apartment, it's a girl's apartment that a guy happily cohabitates. But that's the thing with Scott. He's just happy to be there. Especially after some failed past experiences with women (prank calling Jen Levanthal, "I so wanna touch your ass", the whole Queenie debacle).

So when Scott met Dana we were all happy for him. The first time I met Dana, I recall Scott grabbing her ass, and she lovingly slapped it away. She fit the requirements for Scott's girlfriend. She's short, that was a key. She's Jewish. She's outgoing. She's good natured enough to deal with Scott's weird habits. And she's demanding enough to break him of a lot of those weird habits.

Scott's dietary restrictions are now legendary. The turkey and muenster cheese, the refusal to pass the lobster bisque. But now Dana and Scott go out for sushi. And that's a good relationship, when the partners become greater than the some of the parts.

So the wedding day came. WARNING!!! The following will be told strictly from my perspective so if you have comments of other funny things that happened feel free to add them.

Scott was sooooooooooooooooooooooo nervous. At 4:25 (five minutes early) he sent a group text message to the groomsmen saying "where r u guys?" He must have eaten 40 altoids in the few hours leading up to the ceremony. During the ceremony he alternated giggling and coughing fits. But he made it through.

And Scott looked good. He had a sort of pinstriped tuxedo with a black bow tie. Scott loves a bow tie for some reason. And Dana. Good lawd. At most weddings the bride looks beautiful, but Dana looked damn hot. The difference is subtle, but there is a difference between beautiful and hot.



Scott gave a firm stomp to the glass. And the party began.

I made a beeline to the bar and started with a couple Heinekens. Then we got a couple shots from the Vodka infusion. One was berry and one was pineapple. Thankfully, I don't really care for fruit so I went back to beer. Otherwise the cocktail hour was good, but I spent most of it drinking.

Scott's favorite part of any wedding/bar mitzvah is the hora. We love being the chair lifters. Thankfully I had front right of the ladies' chair, smoothly lifting, Dana, her mom, Elaine and Scott's mom, Stefanie. I don't know how the other guys got Scott and Howie up in the air, but they did.



Right after the the hora the band (which was awesome by the way) got into a couple good songs to get the group dancing. Then for some reason they moved into "Sweet Home Alabama." Half the crowd was like "wtf?" but then Scott and Dana's friend Alex got up there and started jamming with the band. It was a really nice touch and Alex told me afterwards it felt so cool to be up there "shredding."





After that there was more dancing and partying, and of course, more drinking. We had to get the best man, Matt Fox ready for his toast. Matt was very apprehensive about giving the speech so the only thing to do was fill him full of some liquid courage. Matt had about 12 shots before the speech and that must have been the right number because the speech was awesome. On his way up we seranaded him with the Jose chant (Matt Fox, MattFoxMattFoxMattFox...Maaaat Fox, Matt Fox). He had everyone laughing including the bride and the groom.





The rest of the night kind of flew by for me. We kept dancing. We kept drinking and we had a great time. These pictures probably say it all.









To put the icing on the cake we drove (well, actually only Leslie was able to) Greenspan aka Juice aka Green-spiggity to the train station because he had to get up for the Jets game the next day. I feel badly for anyone who might have been on the train with him. Almost as bad as I feel for Mrs. Poop who had to sit in the back seat with me on one side of her, and Juice on the other as we sang "What a beautiful wedding, what a beautiful wedding...but haven't you people ever heard of closing the God damn door."

All in all it was a great night that those of you who can remember it won't soon forget. I'll leave you with some pictures of the bride and groom.