Homeboy #1 and I always had a rule when we lived together; never host parties in yer own house. Obviously I broke that rule and paid a dear price for it. I totally spaced the timing of the Seahawks preseason game. 10 lashes. So all I got in was the first quarter down at Tony's. Diane was kind enough to let me use the TV on stage again so I could listen to the game and avoid Trapper Joe flapping his lips about crazy schmitt.
When Taima flew out of the tunnel I literally got "that" feeling that only Qwest gives me. Excitement, butterflies, goosebumps, the whole range. Even though its a meaningless game in August with Charlie Frye in command it still burns me that I have a ticket to the game and I'm not there. Every time I saw my seat on the 27" RCA I'd lean it looking for Chef Boy and Brother J wishing I was Crowned up in the crowd with them screaming until I 86 my voice.
The defense looked good but they were matched up against Wrecks Grossboy so how could they not. It was hard to stay focused on the game because I was watching the clock to pick up pizzas at 6pm. Julius Jones fumbled and got called for holding. It wouldn't break my heart if they didn't keep him. I'm sold on the kid from Cal.
Diana came over and asked me to turn the volume down which was already hard to hear. Then she turned the radio up. I don't understand her sometimes. Most of the time. Whateva. But the two dudes playing pool soon quit and sat down behind me to watch. One was clearly a Seahawks fan. Then another guy came in, pulled up a chair, and called his son to let him know the Hawks were on. As Hannibal would say "I love it when a fan comes together. " I don't quote The A-Team enough therefore I pity myself.
Picked up the pies from Big Al's and went home. Wolfboy and Scott With a "Y "came over right before seven and slowly the peeps trickled in. Physically I was the loser throwing his own party in a condo but my spirit was 1448 miles southwest in Row N Seat 9. CK gave me a score update off his cellphone. 19-9 Bears. Without even seeing it I knew Chicago must have scored on defense or special teams. This morning I read I was correct. I was there in spirit.
By nine there was a pretty good mix of homies and homettes: The Shwanee, Capt. AJ, LL Cool G, Smookie, Princess Sime, Homeboy #1, Mr. and Mrs. Big Man on Campus (I really need a better name for him), Lil Kate, Andrew Dice Lovebaker, Mary Mary (why ya buggin') ,The Voice, Goldielocks, Wolfmother, Man of Power and the 1st Lady, Walrus, Ellen Degenerate ,and the life of the party Manslut.
Oh, and this guy named Drew. Who?
Manslut presented me with flowers and the coolest thing I've ever seen. A black arse paddle. Three times bigger than the one he made out of a pallet plank in Bristol Bay. It is a thing of beauty and will look awesome hanging in my office at The-Job-I-Can't-Talk-About right next to the topless calendar Russ (underlined) got me. Miss May is a-may-zing. Of course he wanted to test his gift on my behind but he bats like a pitcher and whacked me in the hips twice, striking bone, missing the cheeky flesh. Damnit. Still this was better than the arse raping crackhead outside the Penthouse who was eyeing the par-tay. I hate my neighborhood.
So many folks brought their own suds we hardly made a dent in the Raindogs. Call Dougie. Around midnight we bailed for Anthony's Bar and No Grill where I chatted with Pattie for a long time but have no recollection what about. I think I ended up at The Villagio ,don't recall, but I do know I walked home at a respectable 2am with Wolfboy thru Da Homes and had a brief verbal sparring with Super Dave, Cab Driver To The Stars. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
Go Seahawks!
When Taima flew out of the tunnel I literally got "that" feeling that only Qwest gives me. Excitement, butterflies, goosebumps, the whole range. Even though its a meaningless game in August with Charlie Frye in command it still burns me that I have a ticket to the game and I'm not there. Every time I saw my seat on the 27" RCA I'd lean it looking for Chef Boy and Brother J wishing I was Crowned up in the crowd with them screaming until I 86 my voice.
The defense looked good but they were matched up against Wrecks Grossboy so how could they not. It was hard to stay focused on the game because I was watching the clock to pick up pizzas at 6pm. Julius Jones fumbled and got called for holding. It wouldn't break my heart if they didn't keep him. I'm sold on the kid from Cal.
Diana came over and asked me to turn the volume down which was already hard to hear. Then she turned the radio up. I don't understand her sometimes. Most of the time. Whateva. But the two dudes playing pool soon quit and sat down behind me to watch. One was clearly a Seahawks fan. Then another guy came in, pulled up a chair, and called his son to let him know the Hawks were on. As Hannibal would say "I love it when a fan comes together. " I don't quote The A-Team enough therefore I pity myself.
Picked up the pies from Big Al's and went home. Wolfboy and Scott With a "Y "came over right before seven and slowly the peeps trickled in. Physically I was the loser throwing his own party in a condo but my spirit was 1448 miles southwest in Row N Seat 9. CK gave me a score update off his cellphone. 19-9 Bears. Without even seeing it I knew Chicago must have scored on defense or special teams. This morning I read I was correct. I was there in spirit.
By nine there was a pretty good mix of homies and homettes: The Shwanee, Capt. AJ, LL Cool G, Smookie, Princess Sime, Homeboy #1, Mr. and Mrs. Big Man on Campus (I really need a better name for him), Lil Kate, Andrew Dice Lovebaker, Mary Mary (why ya buggin') ,The Voice, Goldielocks, Wolfmother, Man of Power and the 1st Lady, Walrus, Ellen Degenerate ,and the life of the party Manslut.
Oh, and this guy named Drew. Who?Manslut presented me with flowers and the coolest thing I've ever seen. A black arse paddle. Three times bigger than the one he made out of a pallet plank in Bristol Bay. It is a thing of beauty and will look awesome hanging in my office at The-Job-I-Can't-Talk-About right next to the topless calendar Russ (underlined) got me. Miss May is a-may-zing. Of course he wanted to test his gift on my behind but he bats like a pitcher and whacked me in the hips twice, striking bone, missing the cheeky flesh. Damnit. Still this was better than the arse raping crackhead outside the Penthouse who was eyeing the par-tay. I hate my neighborhood.
So many folks brought their own suds we hardly made a dent in the Raindogs. Call Dougie. Around midnight we bailed for Anthony's Bar and No Grill where I chatted with Pattie for a long time but have no recollection what about. I think I ended up at The Villagio ,don't recall, but I do know I walked home at a respectable 2am with Wolfboy thru Da Homes and had a brief verbal sparring with Super Dave, Cab Driver To The Stars. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
Go Seahawks!
