I have returned from my sojourn in Denver, Colorado. Maybe sojourn means to live somewhere and not just drink there for a long weekend, but either way I left last Thursday and now I'm back. I paid no rent, unless you count non-lotions to the friend I stayed with. I'm not sure if any of you are interested in my exploits... maybe Teeblah, maybe Blade, possibly Gia (Who the fuck is Gia?), but I'll share them anyway, because I have shit to say.
I sent a couple pics to Tom and he put them up. Zed had a digital camera with and took much better pics and I'm hoping to get my hands on them soon to share with you. There's only so much you can do with a shitty camera phone.
Anyway, we got there Thursday and after having a couple in the airport waiting for Wesito (that's what his Mexican wife calls him, in addition to Flaco, Whey, and Dude) he arrived with road ponies in tow. Shusha (Shoosh-a) (Wes's wife's nickname, I think her real name is spelled Eliana; Ellie-A-Nah, Wes also calls her Fresa, Dude and Ho... well, just once time and shit got ugly.) made some bitchin' tacos and the neighbor stopped by with gifts for Zed. We then went to multiple places-I think it went trivia bar/Mexican restaurant/classy bar/gay bar/Mexican bar/ then Don's Club Tavern, which is right across the street from Wes's place. I love Don's. Zed loves Don's. We spent some good time there Thursday and stumbled home drunk. (The pic below with Zed and the crazy man is from Don's.)
Wes had to work Friday, the bastard, so Zed and I escorted Shusha around downtown Denver. Record cold was hitting the area at the time, so our walking around was very limited, although we were able to stop at American Apparel (pic below), which is owned by one of the greatest men ever. We finished up the downtown trip with trip to Falling Rock Tap House, which is a Caspian James crow hop laser away from Coors Field. Another sweet bar with a ton of beer on tap and a freaky yet knowledgeable bartender. Downtown is pretty cool, a lot more bars/shops than downtown Minneapolis, but the layout/architecture/cityscape reminded me of St. Paul. Wesito got home and more drinking followed, we watched the Gophers beat Denver (it was in Minneapolis, would have been sweet if it was in Denver) and hit it very hard. Of course we closed the night down at Don's. I may have left a drunk message on teeblah's phone that night.
Saturday came, more cold followed, cig smoking was certainly becoming a chore, until we figured out that you could smoke in the hallways, elevators, ping-pong/pool room downstairs and what not. A lot of smoking in Denver. Even with the altitude. We took the 25 minute drive to Boulder and spent much of our hungover day on Pearl St., walking in and out of hippie shops, bars and hippie bars that reeked of B.O when you entered them. We finished the trip up at The Sundown Saloon, a place that smelled like a college party basement on Sunday morning when the party was on Friday night. It was down a flight of scary stairs from the main street level and definitely had had no exposure to the sun in years.
Saturday night Zed cooked a fabulous dinner of crab fettuccini and we drank wine and became full and bloated. We wanted to play some darts to work off the meal... only for Wes to explain to us that hardly any bars in Denver had darts. We thought about it and decreed that yes, he was right, Denver was dart-free city. Why this is I'm not sure. They do like their pool though, so we went to B-52's, which had a strange set-up, but pretty cool at the same time. There were a ton of pool tables, but also different lounge rooms where it was more like a club. Not sure how to describe it. Anyway, we were there, and I think Hand Steam called me. Not sure why. We were enjoying some cocktails when a waitress that looked like this came up to us (but maybe a little bigger and more ripped, with a square jaw) with a shot tray and demanded that we drink some kamikazes. We obliged her. They were $4.00 a piece. Remember that. We continued to drink and she continued to come around with shot rounds. I was engaging in some witty banter with her on all of these stops, and they became more frequent. I was drunk at this point. Zed suggested I house her... but it would probably have been the other way around. Anyway she came around again, and I ordered only three shots at this point, because Shusha was babbling in Spanish, a tell tale sign she was loaded. Anyway, I hand her a 20 and ask for two dollars back. On a 12 dollar round... she informs me of this and I realize we only got three, but I didn't want to be a dick and take money back, so I rolled with it and said "Yeah, I know, just two back." Wow. Anyway, Shusha felt confident enough to ask her about after-bars and stuff, but it all got put on hold as two fights broke out within five minutes of each other. After the first fight one of the participants, who was thin and pasty and being escorted out, stopped and threw his hands in the air while screaming "EAST-SIDE!!" We thought that was funny. We also wanted the bodybuilding bitch to throw down with these chumps but she was nowhere to be found. A drunken cab ride back and some homemade Mexican nachos awaited us....
*The Gophers also won 5-1 on this night, but it was not on live TV in Denver, it was usurped for the Arena Football game. Hjelm gave score reports during the night and kept saying it was one of the best games of the season for the Gophers, which is probably true. I wore my U of M hockey hat for most of the weekend and it inspired little reaction... Zed did win a beer on a bet with a 70+ year old man at Don's saying the Gophers would sweep. They did, but sadly, we never saw the man again. Anyway, the point is that nobody in Denver cares about #1 against #2 in the WCHA with tourney implications are on the line. I openly questioned the sexuality of the city many times because of this.
Well, I need to stop for now, with Sunday and Monday still looming. Gyros, Ping Pong, Beer, Quarters, douche bag friends and cool neighbors, Coldplay, more douche bag friends and drunk Mexicans, 3 am lasagna, mountains, Dramamine, Breckenridge, Jon Favreau, wine and Deuce Bigalow all to come in my next installment. Can you even wait?
Seacrest out...
I sent a couple pics to Tom and he put them up. Zed had a digital camera with and took much better pics and I'm hoping to get my hands on them soon to share with you. There's only so much you can do with a shitty camera phone.
Anyway, we got there Thursday and after having a couple in the airport waiting for Wesito (that's what his Mexican wife calls him, in addition to Flaco, Whey, and Dude) he arrived with road ponies in tow. Shusha (Shoosh-a) (Wes's wife's nickname, I think her real name is spelled Eliana; Ellie-A-Nah, Wes also calls her Fresa, Dude and Ho... well, just once time and shit got ugly.) made some bitchin' tacos and the neighbor stopped by with gifts for Zed. We then went to multiple places-I think it went trivia bar/Mexican restaurant/classy bar/gay bar/Mexican bar/ then Don's Club Tavern, which is right across the street from Wes's place. I love Don's. Zed loves Don's. We spent some good time there Thursday and stumbled home drunk. (The pic below with Zed and the crazy man is from Don's.)
Wes had to work Friday, the bastard, so Zed and I escorted Shusha around downtown Denver. Record cold was hitting the area at the time, so our walking around was very limited, although we were able to stop at American Apparel (pic below), which is owned by one of the greatest men ever. We finished up the downtown trip with trip to Falling Rock Tap House, which is a Caspian James crow hop laser away from Coors Field. Another sweet bar with a ton of beer on tap and a freaky yet knowledgeable bartender. Downtown is pretty cool, a lot more bars/shops than downtown Minneapolis, but the layout/architecture/cityscape reminded me of St. Paul. Wesito got home and more drinking followed, we watched the Gophers beat Denver (it was in Minneapolis, would have been sweet if it was in Denver) and hit it very hard. Of course we closed the night down at Don's. I may have left a drunk message on teeblah's phone that night.
Saturday came, more cold followed, cig smoking was certainly becoming a chore, until we figured out that you could smoke in the hallways, elevators, ping-pong/pool room downstairs and what not. A lot of smoking in Denver. Even with the altitude. We took the 25 minute drive to Boulder and spent much of our hungover day on Pearl St., walking in and out of hippie shops, bars and hippie bars that reeked of B.O when you entered them. We finished the trip up at The Sundown Saloon, a place that smelled like a college party basement on Sunday morning when the party was on Friday night. It was down a flight of scary stairs from the main street level and definitely had had no exposure to the sun in years.
Saturday night Zed cooked a fabulous dinner of crab fettuccini and we drank wine and became full and bloated. We wanted to play some darts to work off the meal... only for Wes to explain to us that hardly any bars in Denver had darts. We thought about it and decreed that yes, he was right, Denver was dart-free city. Why this is I'm not sure. They do like their pool though, so we went to B-52's, which had a strange set-up, but pretty cool at the same time. There were a ton of pool tables, but also different lounge rooms where it was more like a club. Not sure how to describe it. Anyway, we were there, and I think Hand Steam called me. Not sure why. We were enjoying some cocktails when a waitress that looked like this came up to us (but maybe a little bigger and more ripped, with a square jaw) with a shot tray and demanded that we drink some kamikazes. We obliged her. They were $4.00 a piece. Remember that. We continued to drink and she continued to come around with shot rounds. I was engaging in some witty banter with her on all of these stops, and they became more frequent. I was drunk at this point. Zed suggested I house her... but it would probably have been the other way around. Anyway she came around again, and I ordered only three shots at this point, because Shusha was babbling in Spanish, a tell tale sign she was loaded. Anyway, I hand her a 20 and ask for two dollars back. On a 12 dollar round... she informs me of this and I realize we only got three, but I didn't want to be a dick and take money back, so I rolled with it and said "Yeah, I know, just two back." Wow. Anyway, Shusha felt confident enough to ask her about after-bars and stuff, but it all got put on hold as two fights broke out within five minutes of each other. After the first fight one of the participants, who was thin and pasty and being escorted out, stopped and threw his hands in the air while screaming "EAST-SIDE!!" We thought that was funny. We also wanted the bodybuilding bitch to throw down with these chumps but she was nowhere to be found. A drunken cab ride back and some homemade Mexican nachos awaited us....
*The Gophers also won 5-1 on this night, but it was not on live TV in Denver, it was usurped for the Arena Football game. Hjelm gave score reports during the night and kept saying it was one of the best games of the season for the Gophers, which is probably true. I wore my U of M hockey hat for most of the weekend and it inspired little reaction... Zed did win a beer on a bet with a 70+ year old man at Don's saying the Gophers would sweep. They did, but sadly, we never saw the man again. Anyway, the point is that nobody in Denver cares about #1 against #2 in the WCHA with tourney implications are on the line. I openly questioned the sexuality of the city many times because of this.
Well, I need to stop for now, with Sunday and Monday still looming. Gyros, Ping Pong, Beer, Quarters, douche bag friends and cool neighbors, Coldplay, more douche bag friends and drunk Mexicans, 3 am lasagna, mountains, Dramamine, Breckenridge, Jon Favreau, wine and Deuce Bigalow all to come in my next installment. Can you even wait?
Seacrest out...
posted by f theb at 7:54 PM
5 Comments:
You are correct - the Gophers did sweep Denver at home this weekend - and Saturday night's ass kicking was a treat. The one goal Denver got was bullshit - and the Gophers scored 10 seconds as a metaphysical kick to the groin.
Following their impressive victory - the Gopher men, with Thomas Vanek and his ridiculous bank account stormed Legends for some serious horseshit and partying.
The night got rowdy - I kicked a handful of dudes out - one guy took a swing at me - we rolled him out the door and made him look like a pansy in front of all.
Following the game - I was invited to Kellen Briggs' house for an after bar party. At said party - I felt old as shit. Hot chicks were everywhere - the kegmeister was flowing - table top dancing turned in to hilarious home videos, and Jeremy asked every chick in the house if she was wearing underwear - and regardless of their response - he followed with "Prove it!".
Many of the Gopher men were in tow for this after bar party. Most of them were kicking it with ridiculous hot ladies. The ratio of ridiculous hot, not gross ladies to guys was about 3:1 - no shitting you. Kellen decided that he was going to get me laid - so periodically throughout the night - he would walk me up to a gaggle of girls and give me probably the most flattering introduction of my life -extolling my many sweet virtues and generally cool persona - to which each of the ladies responded - "Hi, I am ______, do you know if Gino is here?". That is as far as I got - but I still have to give Briggsy credit for trying to help me out.
Kellen also commanded the attention of the room - with his girlfriend present - and told everyone how much he loves to eat her ass. He said it tasted great. Someone in the back yelled out "Her cooch might taste like vanilla and smell like roses, but her ass still tastes like shit".
Tom's Dbag cousin Vanelli slept through all of this.
Well let me tell you all about my Saturday night. I was at a ridiculous party too, with as many hot chicks in one room as I've ever seen, and they had Leinies OG in the keg... or maybe I was sitting over at Anderson's watching Teeblah try to do combo tricks on some ATV PS2 game, drinking Miller Lite and losing $5 as quickly as its ever been lost in the game of Omaha. But the events of that night did lead me to call F theb and leave a rambling message seeking confirmation of some ridiculous event that Teeblah tried to pass off as fact back at 817. Maybe the altitude was getting to F theb at that point, or maybe I called right as that guy was screaming "EAST SIDE", but for whatever reason the call went unreturned, and Boland's ridiculous story (I think it was something about how he came up with a song or something back in 817 days) remains unrefuted.
I think James is refering to "Ready for Bed" the first single off the lp of the same name. MC Sleepy? I think was the artist. Point was he was going to bed with all the ho's. And getting 14-15 solid hours of sleep.
I'm pretty sure kimby once said he didn't like Kellen Briggs because his girlfriend was hot.
Speaking of messages, I have Dircks' saved and will be revealing my blackmail list of demands shortly.
Speaking of top dollar, Teeblah will pay it for these home-vids. There has got to be a way to make cash off of these. I wonder how much Fox 9 would pay...
I would never do or say anything to hurt my beloved Gophers.
Denver sounds pretty cool until I hear all this hockey apathy. What a bunch of d-bags. Although, you guys just may have went to the wrong bars. You guys were at "2 o'clock" bars when all the dejected Pioneer faithful were at "throw-up" bars.
This flurry of activity at the site revives my semi in regards to revamping the site. "hey lil guy..."
The thought of Tom's semi gives me a halfy - now I can't get up from my desk to attend my meeting. Damn slacks.....
I can confirm the existence of the "Ready For Bed" single. Teeblah would emerge from his lair at around 4:30 pm from a hard day's sleep that began around 2:00 am, giving him 14 hours of solid sleep. He would come downstairs cloaked in his comforter, and when questioned about his sleep habits, he would usually scratch himself, spit, and proclaim "Bitch, I'm always ready for bed!" Then the beat would kick in, the lights would go down, and bitches would just appear out of nowhere and start dancing.
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