By ART MCGREGOR
Blog on the Run editor
Thursday night feels like about six weeks ago.
We sat at the downstairs bar at B-Dubs Lane (campus) Saturday night swilling 16-ounce Miller Lite drafts. Obviously I sat next to a guy that played football at Wyoming (I've never been) and The Godfather drank vodka and soda and every time the bartender (great thong) asked us if we needed another drink, we said yes. This all happened before 9 p.m. When we ended up at that house (no clue who lived there) around 3 a.m., I imagine our bartender had slipped out of her tight black pants. No seriously. I imagined it big time about 40 minutes later when I got home.
I opined that she was from northwest Ohio. She wasn't. She went to Massillon Jackson.
"Polar Bears," I said.
She lacked impressed.
When the time comes to trade in this lifestyle for one far less exciting, I'll have to give up nights like Saturday. Sure, we went out and did some things on Friday but it was a rather forgettable night. Not really a bad night, but we went to Barley's, The Patio and Gaswerks. It's like, I doubt when you Google mapped my whereabouts at 2:10 a.m. on a Friday, you'd find me standing next to McGinley inside Gaswerks.
Didn't do shit on Saturday. Had just said no to showering for the day's first 19 hours (includes the roughly seven-plus hours I slept/was passed out). Laid on the couch and chair and watched college football. When I laid on the same couch 29 hours later, I had a few more memories.
the Truth sent me this text at 11:38:48 p.m.:
"big week... buckeye weekend all weekend long!"
When I affirmed he sent:
"I think we did a good job of preparation... I look forward to your performance this week, you better get some sleep. It might be your last chance!"
I LOL'd and said something else witty (I was kinda buzzed) and he responded:
"LOL! I plan on working 10-3 with a 1.5 hour lunch all week. GVM baby, it's great to be us!"
YES WE CAN!
I've got a soft spot in my heart for Wyoming. A few nights before Christmas in 2004, I watched the Las Vegas Bowl at the Flying Monkey in Key West. We watched the game with a bunch of rowdy Wyoming fans (cowboy hats). If like Rutgers was playing Nevada, it wouldn't have made much sense, but you see, Wyoming was playing UCLA. Wyoming pulled the upset and we all drank and got crazy and I think I hooked up with some random. More than likely. I also love Wyoming because I like how the word looks printed out and I used to watch the Monday night midnight game on ESPN that always featured New Mexico, UNLV or Wyoming. Sometimes Utah. Sometimes Utah would be a great band name.
Did you know on Christmas Eve of that year I ordered (and ate) two Outback Specials from Outback Steakhouse? You know very well, who you are. Don't let 'em hold you down. Read for the stars.
Probably better was Dec. 23, 2003. The Sports Writer was back in Toledo, so I went out with my boss and his 21-year-old sister-in-law. That I night I did the following things:
1. Spit on a guy and didn't get kicked out of the bar although the guy promised to "rip your fucking head off." My head is still intact despite what you think of this blog.
2. Witnessed my boss walk down Duval Street in tennis shoes and tighty whiteys while smoking a cigarette.
3. Let my boss steal my roommate's DVD of "Bad Boys 2."
4. Hooked up with the sister-in-law in our hot tub and 87 percent of the rest of our house.
5. Pissed all over my keyboard when she was asleep.
6. Treated her to a Christmas Eve lunch of Kentucky Fried Chicken.
7. Never talked to her again.
Back to Saturday. I sat next to the Wyoming guy, a friend of Sleepy's. Sleepy was in town this weekend so we met him at BDL at about 8:30 p.m. We drank and laughed and talked and bullshitted for the next seven hours. I let Wyoming Guy (hugest man I've ever seen) know that I saw him "struggling with the menu" when he asked why I didn't ask him about books. I'm not really sure on the other details. We watched UFC and football at a place with wings and beers and had the audacity to make fun of fratty guys. The weather was very raw. I kept letting people know my fascination with the fact that there will be a live college basketball game shown at 4 a.m. Tuesday morning. The Godfather must have said 400 times that "Houston scored 70 on Tulsa. Has there ever been a top 25 team that had 70 points scored on it?"
Wyoming Guy (I love this) also told us about the easiest place to hook up with hot dumb chicks. He said No. 2 is Hattiesburg, Miss. and the top-ranked place is Nacogdoches, Texas. I love that he has ranked the places because I've done the same. My No. 1 is a little different. I contend it's a Sunday night during spring break at a spring break destination. Only the truest skanks go out on Sundays.
What makes me laugh about the night is that I had zero forward momentum going into the evening. Both Thursday and Friday were kind of lame. I didn't leave my living room on Saturday afternoon. It was rainy out. The Godfather was wearing sweatpants.
We overcame. We went out. We also walked past a what-the-fuck-was-that-place some beatnik bar across from the Scarley & Gray Cafe.
McGinley showed up late to whisk The Godfather away to Club 185. the Truth sent me a text that said, "tons of hot girls at Club 185!" When I got there at 1:45 a.m., there were none outside the bartenders. And one of the bartenders was smoking outside.
We made a pitstop at McFadden's beforehand where a totally hot chick with boyfriend hit on Wyoming Guy. I would have stayed there but Sleepy kept yawning. We left and went to 185. We'd later go to an afterhours at someone's house.
"Who's house were we at?" I asked The Godfather yesterday morning (1:32 p.m.).
I did less on Sunday that I did on Saturday. We had two TVs set up in the living room so we could watch one sporing event along with another one at the same time. I walked to Shell at 9 p.m. to buy my Sunday night drinking supplies and then drank for the next four hours. I fell asleep.
It might have been my last chance this week.
