Thursday, April 09, 2009

Phillies game and back home 

After two weeks of forced sobriety thanks to having the plague, I hopped back on the horse and hit the ballpark with BigMike bright and early. The bar at the park opened at 11am and that seemed like a reasonable starting point. 12 hours later we were trying to figure out how we were getting home and BigMike was trashing a really bad cigar.

Not a bad way to start drinking again.

Below are some pics from yesterday as well as a picture from Key West that somehow got lost in the shuffle.

Also, the latest issue of Truckin' and a linkup to Dr. Pauly's new project. Lost Vegas

The first time I ever met Dr. Pauly, we sat in McFaddens at the ballpark, ate Cheesesteak nachos and drank SoCo.

The mass of people waiting to get in the third base gate. They chose to stand there like cattle instead of going into the bar for pre-gaming and looking at amazing women.

The 2008 World Series Champion banner. That's how high we were sitting. We were level with the flags.

The ring ceremony. Pat Burrell got the biggest ovation, Adam Eaton had some real balls showing up.

View from the left field ramp.

I am verboten from giving out her details, but the end justifies the means
(and THAT is the worst line I have ever written).

April 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 4

1. Brownstone by Paul McGuire
Nothing existed for her before 1944. She was very vague with that part of her life during the war in Europe. She left behind something so incredibly horrifying that she wanted to erase those connections to that past. The vastness of the Atlantic ocean was far enough distance for her to feel safe enough to establish roots and start over a new life in Brooklyn... More

2. An Essay . . . Or A White Paper To Depravity by May B. Yesno
I watched Sister for some period, observing the color ebb and flow through her throat and those portions of her face I could see, as she bent over the papers. I knew she was just from the showers and spending time with Mother, and could imagine the warm glow burning in her veins. My pulse sped slightly... More

3. Grassy Knoll by Milton T. Burton
Oswald's third shot came about a half second before mine did, but he missed. It was then that I realized what I'd been hearing wasn't no motorcycle. Those two shots coming that close together are what screwed up the investigation and caused all that damn fool crap about the echoes and the acoustics in Dealey Plaza. It was my shot that got him, though... More

4. Red No. 5 by Betty Underground
It had been close to 6 years since he had pulled that custom made emerald ring of the pocket of his jeans, picked the lint off it and woke me from the dead of sleep to ask me if I would promise to spend a big piece of forever with him. A non conventional proposal but they were the exact words I wanted to hear. Forever was something neither of us believed in, but we both knew that we wanted to look at each other's faces over the newspaper for a ton of Sundays... More

5. The Sandstorm Scholarships by Johnny Hughes
When Henry was eleven, his father wanted him to spend time with Jiggs Monroe, the 90-year-old former foreman of the Foster Ranch. Jiggs insisted on sitting outside the ranch house on folding chairs in a raging sandstorm. Henry's two older cousins fled to the house. Jiggs said, "You can judge a man by a sandstorm. We'd watch a young cowboy, and see how he acted. We'd see if he complained. You don't complain. You are tough."... More


Tuesday, April 07, 2009

Off to the Phillies Game 

It's been a crappy beginning of the season, it's god damn friggin' cold up here still in April, I haven't had a drink or smoke in nearly two weeks. But that won't stop me from going to the Phillies game to watch the team get their World Series Championship rings.

I think it's pretty damned cool that the Phillies are paying the bill to fly Pat Burrell down here from Boston for the afternoon ceremony.

By the time most of you read this I'll be elbow deep in Soco looking at the wonderful girls of McFadden's with BigMike.



Monday, April 06, 2009

Body Shots at Cowboy Bills 

It's hard to believe that I've gone nearly two weeks without indulging in the least bit of alcohol and nicotine. I haven't seen anything near the inside of a bar and my limits have been certain small rooms containing either a bed or porcelain.

Friends are finally asking for proff that I'm actually alive.

Here's a video I grabbed just before the death watch started and my inspiration to get back down there as quickly as possible. I'm back north temporarily to catch the opening series of the Phillies season. Too god damn cold up here.

Enjoy a little video of body shots at Cowboy Bills.

RSS readers can click through here