Fifty bucks and a case of beer and nobody's sayin' goodbye

Yesterday was the annual horseshoe tournament. I took Togers and Mr M with me this year because that is what a good father does - takes his young impressionable kids to a kegger.

Like last year, there were a lot of teams. Like last year, my team was eliminated about halfway through. Like last year, there was a lot of alcohol consumed by the attendees (I believe it was four kegs and a gallon and a half of Jägermeister this time). And like last year, I was the beer bitch because nobody else was sober enough to drive.

All it took for Togers to become the biggest social butterfly of the entire party was for him to hit a ringer. Being the youngest participant, everybody cheered him on. It must've gone to his head because after the match was over he went around introducing himself to everyone for the rest of the night. He even started talking smack to some of his future opponents.

Togers (to probably the biggest guy at the party): What's your team name?
The Big Guy: [Team Name]
Togers: I think we take you on next. We'll probably win. [Walks away]
The Big Guy (to me): Wait! Did that little bastard just talk shit to me? I think he did.
Me: I think you're right.
The Big Guy: I'm going to push him down the hill the next time he walks by.
Me: You've got my blessing.

A few minutes later:
The Big Guy: Great! Now he's in my head. I'll probably throw a shoe and hit the house.


Mr M learned a few things while he was there. Some people taught him and a neighbor girl how to play ping pong. He told me that he can't wait until he's bigger so that he can be better at playing that. Later, he ended up shooting baskets with a couple of guys. I went over to shoot around with him too. We'd take turns, and after a few rounds he shot the ball, missed, then said, "Douchebag!"

I suppose I ought to stop using that word so much. Either that, or Mr M needs to learn how to use it in context.

I could go on and on, like telling about the girl who got too drunk too early, and the guy who tried to wrap her up in saran wrap to prevent her from vomiting on herself only to have someone else get protective of her and douse that guy with the hose. Or I could tell you about the guy who stumbled his way out of the house and fell into the middle of a very spiny desert plant. But I won't (mostly because I didn't get pictures).

All in all, it wasn't as fun as last year's tournament, but it still beat going to the office on a Saturday.

I wasn't really drunk I was just pretending

Saturday marked the second time I've participated in an annual horseshoe tournament put on by a friend of a friend. Like last year, I had a great time. Unlike last year, my team (Whore'z Shoooz) didn't make it as far. We finished somewhere in the middle of the pack (30 teams total), but outlasted the champs of the previous two years, so that was almost like winning the whole thing. Almost. Ok, not really.

A few highlights of the day:

- The host lit off fireworks during the singing of the National Anthem, surprising everybody, including my friend who was singing. The song ended with the sound of jets flying over being blared from the speakers as well. A little while later, police arrived on the scene to investigate reports of shots being fired.

- I met a girl from Chicago who knows, and hangs out with, a couple members of Wilco. She took down my contact information to give them in case they come to Vegas again. I'm sure nothing will come of it, but it would be pretty cool if it did.

- My partner was showing me a scar he got on his calf while he was mountain biking a few weeks ago:

Him: I should've gotten stitches on that, but that's ok. Chicks dig scars, right?
Me: That's what they say, but if you really want to know, ask some. There are a few right there.
Me (to a group of girls): Can you guys answer a question for my friend here? He wants to know if it's really true that chicks dig scars.
Girl: That depends. Not if it's some kind of horrible disfigurement across your face.

- Since I was the only one not drinking, a friend and his wife asked if I could drive a few of them to go get some food. We took his Jeep to the drive-through at Sonic:

Two 13 year old girls: We love your mohawk!
Friend: Thanks! I love you too!
Me (to his wife): Uh oh. Are you feeling threatened?
Friend's Wife: Not by two 13 year olds. That'd be illegal.
Friend: Not necessarily. If I do them both at the same time they'd be 26.

- One girl told me I look like Taylor Hicks.

Me: I don't know who Taylor Hicks is.
Her: He's from American Idol.
Me: That's why. I don't watch that show.
Her: Sing me a song.
Me: I can't. I don't know what he sings.
Her: Sing anything. It doesn't matter.
Me: My bologna has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R . . .

- My friends, a married couple, were one of the last six teams standing. Despite being up on their opponent 15 to 5, they ended up losing the match. The husband was quite upset after that.

Someone: Cheer up. It's not that bad.
Him: In order to do that, I'll need to squeeze the head off a small child. Well, any small mammal will do.
Me: I don't think they have any pets, so you're out of luck.
Him: Not even a goldfish? I could cut the face off a goldfish with some scissors.
Me: I don't think so, but I'll tell you what, if that's what you need, I'll drive you down to Wal-Mart and we can buy you a few goldfish.
Him: I'm going to need at least a dozen.

- After the games were over, a few of the people who came in from New York wanted to go out and gamble.

Guy 1: I want to go play cards. Who wants to go play cards?
Goldfish Hater: I don't. That's for homosexual tourists.
Me (to Guy 1): So by all means, go ahead.



A few lowlights of the day:

- Whore'z Shoooz got knocked out after four games. Both losses were close, we just couldn't pull it out at the end. Our elimination game was 10 to 9 and the opposing team hit a ringer to end it. I liked that girl before too, but hate her now. Her husband too.

- Since I was the only one sober enough to drive, I ended up driving people to the liquor store a couple of times. I think in all there were three kegs consumed, along with two gallons of Jagermeister. That's not a typo. My partner started referring to me as 'beer bitch'.

- Some of the ladies (including the hottest girl there) set up a Slip 'n Slide, and said they were going to go on it nude at 9:05, then never did.

- I got stuck talking to a drunk girl in the kitchen without a way to escape. She went on and on about her ex-husband and how he cheated on her, about how her daughter didn't respect her step-mom, and blah, blah, blah, for about 30 minutes. Apparently someone thought I was hitting on her and her boyfriend eventually came in and pulled her away (I never got a chance to thank him for that). After that, I told my friend that if she saw me talking to her again, to come and save me.

- I drove a group of people back to their hotel, and a guy stuck his head out the window and puked. Luckily, none of it got in the car, but I still had to stand in the street at my friend's house and hose it off at three o'clock in the morning.

- Finally crawling into bed at 3:46 a.m.