Please join the ESPN tournament challenge group. The Poop, as always. Vote early and often. Do one for the kiddies, one for the wife, one for the family dog.
Josh and Pizza Parlor Derek will be attending the Music City Bowl and they came up with a great idea to make some money off the deal. Buy some extra tickets and sell them to rich alumni or students with rich parents, once the bowl teams were announced. All season they were rooting for the Music City Bowl to get teams with traveling fan bases so they could resell the tickets at a profit. When Kentucky and Florida State were announced as the teams PPD triumphantly declared "cha-ching!" Since then things haven't gone to well. First there was an eBay debacle and a missed voicemail that could have solved the whole thing. Now there's this, at least 20 Florida State players were suspended as part of a cheating scandal. Doesn't seem like many FSU alums will travel to see a depleted team get their asses kicked. Sorry guys. Apparently the players took an internet test to which they were given the answers before or during the exam. This doesn't surprise me at all. Bobby Bowden is a cheater and he has no scruples. He has always recruited bad guys, and hid behind Jesus and forgiveness when it came time to penalize his criminal players. Remember when the Ol Ball Coach said FSU stood for "Free Shoes University?" And then a few years later Peter Warrick and Laveranues Coles were given a deep discount at Dillard's. Even though they committed the same infraction they were given much different penalties because at the time Warrick was a better player. Coles is so angered by the unfair judgment that when he does those hokey introductions of himself for ABC games he gives credit to his high school and won't mention FSU. Everyone loves Bobby Bowden because he's been around a long time and he has a folksy charm including his famous "player flew" speech, but he's a despicable enabler who is willing to bend the rules to win. Florida State should use this latest scandal as an excuse to put the old man out to pasture.
Traffic, dropping Diesel at the kennel and a ridiculous lack of sleep almost made Mrs. Poop and I late to the rehearsal dinner but we got there just in time to shower and hustle to the rehearsal for Bill to explain to us what a chuppah is.
At the rehearsal dinner, we practiced eating (I still know how!) and Mrs. Poop caught up on baby talk with Mrs. E-Z and Erin. The three of them even went across the street to a baby clothes store...and bought nothing.
Bill took a moment to introduce all of his groomsmen which led to the most inexplicable moment of the evening. When Bill was talking about me, Alison interjected "I swear they're separated at birth." Then Michael interjected "Mary J. Blige." I think he meant that Billy and I are brothers from another mother, and that mother is Mary J. Blige.
Friday night ended with everyone back at the hotel bar. Let me say this, I hate paying $7 for a beer ($21 for 3 yeunglings) but I really enjoyed the hotel bar. At these events I like talking to people I haven't seen in a while and the bar setup, with couches made it easy to hop from cluster to cluster and say hello to everyone, especially the people I don't see that often, like my long lost brother Smokey. And it's nice and quiet (I hate loud bars) so I could hear everyone, even Kristin who seemed to break out of her shell for the first time this weekend, which was nice to see. Plus when Pizza Parlor Derek finally walked in everyone cheered his arrival and he didn't even go upstairs, just started drinking with his luggage in the corner. After the hotel bar closed and they gave me my bill (I thought if you charge it to the room you don't really have to pay), I tried to get some sleep, as I was working on about 3 hours.
Mrs. Poop and I slept so late we missed the gay couples sight-seeing tour, but we did wake up early enough to get cheesesteaks for lunch, or so we thought. We sent Horse, Smokey and PPD to Jim's (or was it Rick's?), but the line was so damn long, that I didn't have time to wait, and Mrs. Poop and Baby Poop, didn't have the patience to wait, so Josh and I walked to Wawa. Wawa was a terrible way to introduce Mrs. Poop to cheesesteaks, but I enjoyed mine.
Then it was time for the wedding. We traveled around the city taking pictures in front of fountains, in front of the LOVE sign and in the middle of the street. Should be some cool photos for the wedding album.
The wedding was held in Philadelphia, so it was sort of weird, because you had this nice outdoor ceremony but you had the sights and sounds of the city.
There was a guy parallel parking a Prius, a hot girl on her way back from the pool, Horse staring at her, but most memorably, the valets somehow got stuck with a car that wouldn't start. So they were pushing this car, right behind the bride and groom, where we were looking, hard not to notice. But it was a beautiful ceremony, Billy stomped the glass easily on his first try, and he broke the glass, not his leg and the party began.
I love cocktail hours. And I was the first one on line and I took a huge plateful of shrimp, and yes I did offer them to Mrs. Poop, but she declined. I also had two Shirley Temples. I don't know who started the trend, but at the beginning of the night everyone was drinking Shirley Temples. The bartender told me that in 10 years of bartending he'd never served so many Shirley Temples to adults.
They also had lobster tails, which were delicious, and shrimp prepared several different ways. I don't know how many shrimp I had, but midway through my second huge plate, the ocean called.
Right after that they did a choreographed routine to "Candy Girl" by New Edition, but it was awesome and very creative.
All night the music was awesome, mostly because Billy (acting like Bridezilla) gave the DJ a very detailed list of songs and the order to play them in.
There was a hip-hop section and I could have sworn during "I Need a Girl" the ghost of my friend Coach came on the dance floor and sang "the sun won't shine forever but as long as it's here then we might as well shine together."
The night really started to pick up when he went into his "rock block" starting with "Living on a Prayer" and "Sweet Child O Mine." That had people, including the bride and groom, dancing on their chairs.
And speaking of dancing on chairs, we did a hora. No one loves a good hora more than me, but I felt a little lost without my partner in hora, TallSkott. Michael was a good substitute but too many non-jews were holding the chairs and I was calling for everyone to walk in circles, but it didn't quite work out that way. But most importantly, we kept the bride and groom upright.
The evening took a turn for the better when they brought out the Viennese/breakfast table. There was your normal assortments of cakes and cookies but there was also a chocolate fountain. Chocolate was flowing from everywhere. You stick something in there, and it comes out covered in chocolate. I wanted to stick my head under but Mrs. Poop forebade me. So I had some chocolate covered Oreos. Then I got to the breakfast part. There were pancakes, and sausage and yes bacon. And it was midnight. I took a little breakfast, in the hopes I could sleep later in the morning. So as I was about to eat my bacon I noticed I had a pool of chocolate on my plate from where the Oreos had been. So I tried it. Chocolate covered bacon isn't as delicious as you would think it would be.
So to recap at this wedding I ate: a lot of shrimp (if I had to guess I'd say more than 50), 2 lobster tails, 2 chocolate covered Oreos, 3 chocolate covered bacon strips, and I drank 2 Shirley Temples and about 10 beers.
Yeah probably 10 beers, which is why at some point I found myself manning a bottle of Tanqueray pouring it onto the ice sculpture and into the mouth of my fellow Redskins fan, Christian. I guess my judgment of what constitutes a shot was a little impaired at that point because the bartender came over and confiscated the bottles.
As the night came to an end a couple of special songs were played giving the groom a chance to do his Vabilla Ice Dance, and immediately the bride's family drew up annulment papers.
And then Billy instructed the DJ to play La Bamba and hand the mic to Horse. A very drunk Horse. A Horse who had been getting disgusted looks from Mrs. Horse for the last two hours starting with his magical attempt to make a lime disappear. Here's the back story on La Bamba. When Horse was just a pony, he had to learn the lyrics for a 7th grade Spanish class. He's remembered them and uses it as his go-to karaoke song. At Michael's bachelor party, Horse delivered a rousing rendition. Well, he tried to duplicate that effort and the crowd was really into it.
Regrettably, the wedding had to end, but that didn't stop the fun. Nor did it stop Horse. He began a sing-along on the bus ride back to the hotel. He started off with his second favorite karaoke song "To Be With You" by Mr. Big, the song that got him attacked on the DC Metro.
Other songs sung include "Hail to the Redskins" (by just Christian and me), "The Humpty Dance" (the girl behind me knew every single word and even admitted later that yes, she uses words that don't mean nothing like "loopid" and that she did once get busy in a Burger King bathroom. The next morning I saw her wearing a shirt that said "real women don't date Yankees fans". Needless to say, I like her.), "Before He Cheats" and several others that aren't worth remembering.
Those of us who didn't want the night to end (almost all of us) hung out in the hotel lobby til 4am.
I also want to give credit to the best man E-Z who did a great job with his speech which had something to do with a man named Horace, Wheaties and Viagra.
E-Z's speech was really about finding things you aren't really looking for. That must have been a theme for the weekend because in the elevator banks on every single floor was a huge, pentagonal cylinder full of Hershey's candy, thanks to a group from the candy company that stayed in our hotel. At first I decided to be judicious and I only took 3 York Peppermint Patties. But with each pass by one of these chocolate havens I became bolder and bolder. By 2am when I was drunk I grabbed as many as I could and when I woke up the next morning after getting yelled at for putting them on Mrs. Poop's pregnant belly, I counted I had taken 35 York Peppermint Patties (not including the 10 or so I'd eaten up until that point).
The next morning I actually woke up in time for breakfast which was nice because I obviously hadn't eaten enough so I stuffed my face with a ton of bacon and got one last chance to talk to everyone and say goodbye to the happy couple and wish them well on their honeymoon and to thank them for a beautiful fun weekend.
Several years ago Josh perpetrated a horrible act upon me, Beers, Michael and Anton (I may have those names wrong, if I left you out, I'm sorry). We went to the movies to see "The Thin Red Line." When we went to sit Josh demanded that we leave at least one seat between us as a buffer. This led to the five of us dispersing throughout the theater. So when the movie started, and it was the worst movie ever made, we all hated it, but when we look around it seemed as if everyone else was enjoying it, so we didn't leave early. All because Josh thought it was gay to sit next to another dude in a movie theater. At Bill's bachelor party, Josh, Smokey and I caught a cab. When I suggested someone sit in the front seat, Josh demanded that all three of us sit in the back.
Everything works in cycles. We are getting older and we're getting married. Bill is towards the tail end of the cycle in the Kliq as far as marriage goes. So this bachelor party was sort of a last hurrah, at least until Pizza Parlor Derek gets married, but that could take a while.
Life intervened and plans for Montreal were scrapped so we headed down to beautiful Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I don't golf so I skipped the Friday morning excursion in Delaware and the Thursday night trip to Buffalo Wild Wings where PPD managed to keep his fingers out of his eyes. You can read PPD's version of the events (which includes Thursday/early Friday).
On the trip down I called Bill and he told me they were on their way to Philly and they were going to grab something to eat ("we're not going to go out to dinner.") So I see a Roy Rogers on the Turnpike and I stop, maybe I would have anyway. I love Roy Rogers. One side note, I had been stuck in bad traffic at the northern most point of the Turnpike, then between exits 16 and 8a traffic was moving, but slowly. At exit 8A the traffic finally cleared and I was cruising. At that point I heard on the radio, "traffic backed up between exits 8a and 7a on the southbound side, for 13 miles". Totally untrue. This happens all the time. For the most part, traffic reports are complete bullshit.
By the time I arrive in Philly it seems everyone was waiting for me to go out to dinner. Bill is a douche. We walk to some sports bar. They say you can't get in with sneakers, until the saw 11 of us, at a time the restaurant wasn't very busy, so they decided to waive their no sneakers policy.
Instead of eating again I decided to drink my supper. At the time I was really pissed that out of 20 TVs, 19 were on the Phillies game and the other one was broken. But then I realized something that I've missed my whole life growing up in New York. We have two teams in everything. And in baseball and football, the population of New York City is split 60/40. In Philly everyone you see, everywhere you go, roots for the same teams. That's pretty cool.
After supper we headed to Show N Tel, which is a BYOB strip club. Because they don't sell alcohol it's full nude. And because you bring your own booze that are a lot of deadbeat lowlives.
One girl was wearing a very cute skirt/top combo with Phillies logos on it. I refused to give her a dollar.
Show N Tel has a thing called a hot seat. Basically you can bring a guy you hate and pay money to have a naked girl yank out his armpit hair, smack him in the face and twist his nipples.
I can throw a dollar bill and hit a balloon knot from 15 feet away.
Horse has sleep apnea. Michael and I diagnosed him while listening to his snoring and intermittent choking. Of course, this didn't bother me at all, I fell asleep in two minutes, but it kept Michael up all night. At 8 am he woke me and asked if I wanted to go to breakfast. I chose a few more hours of sleep and Michael enjoyed breakfast on his own, dining on french toast while getting annoyed by a gay waiter.
Saturday was paintball day. First we stopped at a local WaWa which has touch screen ordering which is a good thing but it can be very confusing. Because each screen presents you with a bunch of different options, if you get caught up in it and forget what you previously selected, you can end up with a tuna sandwich with chipotle sauce, provolone, pickles and sweet peppers.
If you ever have to get somewhere on time. Do not let Billy drive. Despite internet directions and several phone calls to the paintball place, we still made about 5 U-Turns including one where the sign said "paintball" with an arrow straight, and Bill made a right.
I'm not going to describe the paintball game in detail except to say some of us took it lightly, others took it seriously. Michael, Aaron and I had never played before and were just happy to run around like fools. Greco obviously plays a lot (even though it screws up his softball swing), as he came in full gear including a silly hat and a paint grenade. Horse also took it too seriously, as he does everything, and he pelted Josh with a barrage of paintballs that left Josh welted and furious.
Most of us bought paper thin camo suits which didn't really do much except make us look cool. PPD ripped his. It was fun to play but it was a little too hot and I tired quickly. I also got shot twice in the neck, which left huge red marks that look like hickeys. And one time I got shot right on the thumb which hurt so fuckin bad.
After paintball we went back to the hotel to clean up and get ready for dinner at Philly's finest steakhouse, Geno's or Pat's. We ordered in English and enjoyed our delicious dripping cheesesteak. I had wiz wid. I actually wanted peppers and mushrooms but Geno's only had onions.
Smokey having never been to either one, tried the steaks from both then offered a gourmet's analysis of the finer points of each one. I think he was disappointed that Boyz II Men wasn't out front singing "Motown Philly." This weekend did nothing to diminish the brotherly bond that Smokey and I feel towards each other. I really think I am more likely to be related to him than I am to Master Bates or Step On Me.
Saturday night we went classy and headed over to Crazy Horse Too. Things didn't really pick up until a group of African-American gentleman sat next to the stage with three huge stacks of bills. And they weren't just ones. The girls were loving it, and these guys were making it rain, heavily on the stage. Josh sensing an opportunity bought the guys drinks. And that kindness was revisited upon us tenfold at least. These guys were throwing so much money around, they easily spent 10 grand that night. At one point one guy threw a stack of 20 $5 bills onto the stage. And of course everyone was trying to guess their profession. They were either rappers, athletes or drug dealers.
The saddest place in the world is on the steps of a strip club at 3am, waiting for a cab that may never come. The girls were coming out in their sweatpants without makeup, and we were still sitting there.
This was made even sadder still by the fact that we don't have too many more of these opportunities left.
Mrs. Poop and I had been trying to find the time to make a trip to Virginia to visit Isabelle, Kevin and Josh and Erin. There had never been a good time, so we decided this weekend was about our only choice. Once the summer started we would be too busy, and once the fall came, well, then it would be too late.
So we got home from work Friday morning, got a few hours sleep then hit the road. First we had to travel to New York to drop Diesel off at his exclusive kennel.
Then it was back through New Jersey where we hit traffic on the Turnpike. Then we traveled almost the whole length of the state of New Jersey until we got into Delaware, where we hit traffic on the bridge. We stayed only a few minutes in Delaware which led us into Maryland where we encountered more traffic around the Fort McHenry tunnel.
Aside about Fort McHenry tunnel: Papa Poop always talks about a time when he was driving Poop On Me to visit colleges and he was listening to a Mets game and he lost the signal right before the Fort McHenry tunnel. WFAN must have improved it's wattage since then because I was able to hear the Mets game all the way to Josh's though Mrs. Poop was getting frustrated by the static.
Anyway, after about 7 hours in the car (including one for the trip to the kennel) we finally arrived. Josh brought Kevin outside to greet us. Kevin went nuts barking. Josh says he always does this around new people. We ignored Kevin's barking and won him over. Clearly he tries to intimidate people due to his lack of size. Then when he can't intimidate his next method of self-preservation is to be really nice to you. Other than a couple incidents when Mrs. Poop tried to pick up the hot dog, Kevin behaved like a perfect angel.
I wish I could say for the same for Josh. He was cursing, farting, talking really loudly. Fatherhood hasn't changed him at all.
The next morning we were able to meet Izzie. She is so cute. She has a beautiful round face with chubby cheeks and a nice crown of soft golden hair. Plus she is the most mild-mannered baby I've ever encountered. We know plenty of babies and love them all, but Izzie didn't cry once (for more than 30 seconds) the entire weekend. I think she can sleep through anything because he parents speak so loudly she's used to loud noises.
She also loves her big brother Kevin, though sometimes she pets him a little too roughly.
The weather didn't cooperate with any of our plans Saturday as it rained a little in the afternoon. I even tried to take Kevin for a walk, but that was cut short by rain. So basically we just sat around relaxing, watching Izzie play, messing with Kevin, enjoying the company. In celebration of Cinco De Mayo we went to a nice little Mexican place. Then we tried to listen to the Mets game on the radio but couldn't get it. I declined Josh's offer to sit in the car and drink beer. We watched a little NBA basketball but I was so sleepy I couldn't keep my eyes open.
The next day was more of the same. I deemed it too windy to go the National Zoo. It was questionable but it was going to be quite a schlepp and I'm glad we just did more hanging out. We went to the mall. Mrs. Poop and Erin looked at purses and baby items. Josh and I tried on Redskins leather helmets while pushing a baby stroller. Not our finest moment.
Then we went for lunch at this sports bar, Champs. We were evidently seated behind some kind of invisible curtain. We could see out, but nobody could see in. We sat for ten minutes before Josh finally flagged down a waitress who seemed completely confused. Eventually they sent a waiter over. We decided to order three appetizers for us all to split. Plus Erin ordered salad, Mrs. Poop and I had soup and Josh got the chili (thankfully we didn't stick around to smell the aftereffects of that). Then they brought two of our appetizers, the Mile High (literally) nachos and buffalo chicken tenders. The waiter came over to apologize because our potato skins were late and because they brought us buffalo chicken tenders we didn't order (but we did), and to assure us they wouldn't be on the bill. Then when he brought the potato skins he told us those wouldn't be on the bill either since we waited so long for them. Also at one point he brought an extra coke and said "doesn't matter there's free refills anyway." So basically instead of a check they gave us a bunch of gift cards. We gave the guy a nice tip and appreciated our good fortune.
The whole time all this was happening Izzie was sitting quiet as a church mouse.
Then it was time to go home. The trip home was a lot better than the trip there. We listened to the Mets game, but they lost and Mrs. Poop told me everything I need to know about baby furniture.
