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GM's thread about nothing (39 Viewers)
- Thread starter General Malaise
- Start date
EYLive
Footballguy
sounds like you busted both nuts
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
I just got home and plan on icing them up and having a Toblerone. I'm popping some Demerol in a couple of hours.
Sideshow Bob
Footballguy
Did he ask you to talk crude to him?Or if he could drill until it causes a slick?YSR said:
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St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
Or for a tax break?
kevzilla
Footballguy
Been there, done that. Had laparoscopic surgery on Friday and was back at work on Monday. If you can handle the terms "nylon mesh" and "titanium staples", you're golden.Know this: the sooner you seek treatment for this, the better your odds for a long-term solution.
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
More surgery?gditThanks Kev.
bostonfred
Footballguy
Best wishes GB. Here's hoping this is just an injury of overindulgence.
General Malaise
Footballguy
Alright, here it goes, though it's going to be longer than it should be and it's really not one of my finer moments. But first, the backstory. I live in a townhouse. It's a community of townhouses, actually. Kind of looks like a college dorm the way it's set up with courtyards and tall trees. There's a street between my complex and a strip mall. In this strip mall is a bar and grill called "Coach's". It's about 40 yards from my back door to the back door of Coach's, a walk I've made numerous times in the last two and a half years, typically on the tail end of a long night and almost always hammered out of my mind. Coach's caters to all walks of life and no matter what time of day, is populated by professional bar flies who look diseased, disgruntled and disengaged from life outside the dark walls. As it is a 'neighborhood' bar, you'll find nurses congregating together for happy hour, regular Joes who don't want to drive downtown to the upscale bars, young dudes who like to wear tank tops and baggy jeans, older people who have been coming there for years and skanky strippers who work across the street at the Sunset Strip, in search of cheaper drinks before beginning their shift at the low brow nudie bar that has, embarrassingly, eaten countless dollars from yours truly over the years.This seems like a good way to make us less curious.Yeah, there's a bit of a story here, but I'm not proud of it and I'll sit on it for now...
Before moving out of my house and into the townhouse, I used to hit Coach's pretty regularly with my buddies as it was a centralized spot, wasn't as busy as the downtown bars and afforded me the luxury of walking home. In addition, the pool tables, shuffleboard, darts, Golden Tee, video poker, MLB/NFL/NLB package and Off Track Betting facility (a shady room off to the side populated with the most destitute of souls, including at times (embarrassingly again) yours truly) offered all the distractions and entertainment a drinker could possibly want. After my best friend moved back to Texas, followed by our other buddy moving to Texas behind him, I stopped frequenting Coach's unless I was really drunk and bored or unless I was using Coach's as a conduit to get to the low brow strip club.
You see, by going through the back door of Coach's, walking through the bar and out the front door, I have a straight line shot to the Sunset Strip. Otherwise, I'm forced to walk AROUND the entire strip mall and that could take at least 3-4 more minutes. Precious minutes I would rather spend watching a stripper with stretch marks, raised moles, bad tattoos and lactating nipples.Told you this would be long....
Coach's has had one bartender tending bar at night for the last 10 years or so. His name is Bill. He has a crew cut, a goatee, glasses and about 40-50 pounds of muscle over me. He's a big dude and has never really cared for me at all. I crack jokes, he sneers. I give him nice tip, and he gives a cursory thank you. One time, I asked him for a Daily Racing Form. I thumbed through it and realized he gave me the wrong one. I tried to return it to him and get the other edition. He told me I had already 'read through it' and couldn't return it used. He's a real peach. The two of us have existed in the same bar together for nearly a decade and I wouldn't piss on him if his pants were on fire and vice versa.
In January of 2009, Oregon banned smoking in all bars. Coach's was at one time a haven for smokers and you couldn't walk into the OTB and out after placing a bet (a task that takes two minutes tops) without smelling like an ash tray. When the ban hit, the bar management shut the place down and painted over the smelly walls in an effort to clean out the years of damage done by Camel and Merit and Viceroy and Marlboro.
Fast forward to Easter Weekend of 2009. My fraternity buddy Petty came down from Seattle for a visit. Friday night, we met up downtown with my BIL Greg and my good buddy Dean to watch the Blazers/Lakers game on TV. We began drinking pitchers of heavy beer and the night began to get a little fuzzy for me before the start of the 4th quarter. Following a Blazers win, we made our way back towards my neighborhood to the upscale and heavenly "Stars Cabaret". It was there we ran into my buddy Fred, who was hosting a business party with all his mortgage broker co-workers, a raucous group that fancies the booger sugar, strippers and shots of hard liquor. If the night was fuzzy earlier, it was downright blurry by this point. Several shots and god knows what else later, we left and were dropped off at the "Sunset Strip". Greg and Dean left us there as Petty and I promised to walk home after just one more beer.
Well folks, here's where things get ugly. From what I was told, I proceeded to bum a few smokes from a stripper at the Sunset Strip and after we left the Strip to walk home at nearly 2am, I lit up one of those smokes to enjoy on the stumble back. And like one of Pavlov's dogs trained to drool at the sound of a bell, I led Petty and my drunken butt to the front door of Coach's with the sole intent of using it as a short cut back to my house. It was there that Bill the Bartender spotted me and saw the cigarette dangling from my drunken mouth. When asked to leave immediately, I went off in a drunken tirade against him and told him under no uncertain terms that I would be walking through to the back door with the cigarette in my mouth.
Oh, I went through the back door alright. Only I'm not sure I went through it on my feet. When I woke up the next morning, I had trouble moving my left arm. When I looked in the mirror, I had a bruise around the elbow area that looked like a tattoo. I asked Petty what the hell happened to us and his memory was about as effective as mine was, meaning he didn't have a clue. So how did I find out what happened, you ask? Funny story, that.
About 2 weeks after this evening, I was set up to watch the Blazers playoff game vs. Houston. However, TNT was not done showing the east coast game, which had gone to OT. Angered that the game wasn't on yet, I rushed over to Coach's to see if their satellite feed was broadcasting the start of the game. It was, so I sidled up to the bar and was met there by Bill, who glared at me through his glasses, his nostrils flaring like a bull. He asked me "You bum any cigarettes lately"? I replied "What"? And he said "You don't remember, do you? You came in here the other night with a cigarette in your mouth. When I asked you to leave, you said some really mean things to me." I didn't have to ask what else happened from there. I didn't leave, either. I looked at him and said "Look, I'm really sorry for whatever happened. It seems as if there's some bad blood between us, so how about I apologize with this" and handed him a $20 for a Budweiser, telling him to keep the change. We shook hands, I drank my Bud and got out of there as fast as possible.
I've been back a handful of times since, but our relationship is not a very good one and about 2 months ago, he flat out refused to serve me and Petty at the tail end of a drunken night where both of us had trouble recalling specifics in the morning. Can't say I blame him, but one day soon, I'm going to walk in there sober as a judge as ask him for a dickmitten, extra rapey. It might be the last thing I do in life, but I think it'll be worth it.
urbanhack
Fight The Power!
Samuel L Bronkowitz
Footballguy
Hey, I play softball for Coach's in Milwaukee..right across the street from some townhouses. But alas, no strip bar for a mile or so
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
Thanks GB. I don't think so this time but I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
I walk 5.5 miles almost every day.
Tremendous Upside
Footballguy
That made my Friday
Stay Gold GM, Stay Gold
General Malaise
Footballguy
Thanks GB. I don't think so this time but I'm keeping my fingers crossed.I walk 5.5 miles almost every day.
That'll keep you alive until at least 56.
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
Your townhouse sounds awesome!!!
General Malaise
Footballguy
Come visit! I'm not going to be there too much longer. But not having to do yardwork while simultaneously being a stones through form an OTB and 100 different kinds of beer on tap + a strip club in your back pocket? Not bad living.
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
Man, I would love too. We would both end up at least dead and probably divorced.
Sideshow Bob
Footballguy
I miss stories like that.
urbanhack
Fight The Power!
Then you both could live together in the townhouse and walk 5.5 miles each day wearing wife beaters and holding hands.
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
I've never owned a wife beater but the holding hands part sounds kind of nice.
Mrs DaVinci
Footballguy
My daughter is turning 10 years old and we are attempting to make her birthday cake. We have done this every year and somehow it is always too cooked on the edges and perfectly cooked about 1/2 an inch in. We have always scrapped the project and ended up running up to the bakery at Publix. I know it is just a box cake and I know I'm a bad cook, but after so many years of having this happen, I'm wondering if bakers just cut the over cooked section off and then frost. It's not like anyone would notice after the cake is frosted.
KGB
Footballguy
It would probably be easier just taking it out earlier. But sure, no problem with that.A sure win is a CARVEL icecream cake though. No losers there.
Disco Stu
Confirmed FBGal
Your contributions here deserve wider distribution than this humble thread can provide. Should probably start a spin-off.
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
Is this c0de?
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
It's a midwest thang, y'all.Sideshow Bob said:
Mrs DaVinci
Footballguy
Code? No code. It was just my good idea as to why this always happens and since it's just the "family" party, we are going to cut the edges off and frost - her friends/fun party will have an ice cream cake etc. I guess Disco Stu is right, I'm a boring poster. Sorry.
Sideshow Bob
Footballguy
Sure, but he let me get to first base on the first date.
urbanhack
Fight The Power!
We have some ideas on how to make your posts less boring.
Mr.Pack
Footballguy
13th and Grange?
Gadzooks
Footballguy
I'm in love..... and I don't care if she anal bleaches or not!!!
Mr.Pack
Footballguy
I think I saw this on Cake Boss or something once. Oh hell, who am I kidding...... I deserve one of these
too just for watching the damn show.
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Radical Larry
Footballguy
Radical Larry
Footballguy
You ever walk through the back door of the Yoga Center by mistake?
JaxBill
Footballguy
So tomorrow, my two sons are at a swim meet. Of all the kids' sporting events, swim meets are the WORST. Outdoor pools, show up by 7:30 AM, and hopefully you're packing up by 1 PM, just to watch your kid swim 3 or 4 events that average about a minute or two each. So, you're hangning around outside in Florida heat for 5+ hours.
But THIS MEET has just taken an interesting turn. We are the "home team" this meet and the parents need to volunteer. I have been promoted from timer to CALLING THE MEET (over bullhorn).
It's such a vanilla job, I'm thinking of ways to work some FBGisms in.
"EVENT 12 Boys 6 and under 25 yard Butterfly.... why anybody would make a 6 year old use that awful stroke has me Shuked."
"EVENT 33 Girls 14 and under 100 yard Breast Stroke...somebody tell Homer!"
If only I had a vuvuzela.........
But THIS MEET has just taken an interesting turn. We are the "home team" this meet and the parents need to volunteer. I have been promoted from timer to CALLING THE MEET (over bullhorn).
It's such a vanilla job, I'm thinking of ways to work some FBGisms in.
"EVENT 12 Boys 6 and under 25 yard Butterfly.... why anybody would make a 6 year old use that awful stroke has me Shuked."
"EVENT 33 Girls 14 and under 100 yard Breast Stroke...somebody tell Homer!"
If only I had a vuvuzela.........
Celph Titled
Footballguy
zander_s
Footballguy
Awesome!!Alright, here it goes, though it's going to be longer than it should be and it's really not one of my finer moments. But first, the backstory. I live in a townhouse. It's a community of townhouses, actually. Kind of looks like a college dorm the way it's set up with courtyards and tall trees. There's a street between my complex and a strip mall. In this strip mall is a bar and grill called "Coach's". It's about 40 yards from my back door to the back door of Coach's, a walk I've made numerous times in the last two and a half years, typically on the tail end of a long night and almost always hammered out of my mind. Coach's caters to all walks of life and no matter what time of day, is populated by professional bar flies who look diseased, disgruntled and disengaged from life outside the dark walls. As it is a 'neighborhood' bar, you'll find nurses congregating together for happy hour, regular Joes who don't want to drive downtown to the upscale bars, young dudes who like to wear tank tops and baggy jeans, older people who have been coming there for years and skanky strippers who work across the street at the Sunset Strip, in search of cheaper drinks before beginning their shift at the low brow nudie bar that has, embarrassingly, eaten countless dollars from yours truly over the years.
Before moving out of my house and into the townhouse, I used to hit Coach's pretty regularly with my buddies as it was a centralized spot, wasn't as busy as the downtown bars and afforded me the luxury of walking home. In addition, the pool tables, shuffleboard, darts, Golden Tee, video poker, MLB/NFL/NLB package and Off Track Betting facility (a shady room off to the side populated with the most destitute of souls, including at times (embarrassingly again) yours truly) offered all the distractions and entertainment a drinker could possibly want. After my best friend moved back to Texas, followed by our other buddy moving to Texas behind him, I stopped frequenting Coach's unless I was really drunk and bored or unless I was using Coach's as a conduit to get to the low brow strip club.You see, by going through the back door of Coach's, walking through the bar and out the front door, I have a straight line shot to the Sunset Strip. Otherwise, I'm forced to walk AROUND the entire strip mall and that could take at least 3-4 more minutes. Precious minutes I would rather spend watching a stripper with stretch marks, raised moles, bad tattoos and lactating nipples.
Told you this would be long....
Coach's has had one bartender tending bar at night for the last 10 years or so. His name is Bill. He has a crew cut, a goatee, glasses and about 40-50 pounds of muscle over me. He's a big dude and has never really cared for me at all. I crack jokes, he sneers. I give him nice tip, and he gives a cursory thank you. One time, I asked him for a Daily Racing Form. I thumbed through it and realized he gave me the wrong one. I tried to return it to him and get the other edition. He told me I had already 'read through it' and couldn't return it used. He's a real peach. The two of us have existed in the same bar together for nearly a decade and I wouldn't piss on him if his pants were on fire and vice versa.
In January of 2009, Oregon banned smoking in all bars. Coach's was at one time a haven for smokers and you couldn't walk into the OTB and out after placing a bet (a task that takes two minutes tops) without smelling like an ash tray. When the ban hit, the bar management shut the place down and painted over the smelly walls in an effort to clean out the years of damage done by Camel and Merit and Viceroy and Marlboro.
Fast forward to Easter Weekend of 2009. My fraternity buddy Petty came down from Seattle for a visit. Friday night, we met up downtown with my BIL Greg and my good buddy Dean to watch the Blazers/Lakers game on TV. We began drinking pitchers of heavy beer and the night began to get a little fuzzy for me before the start of the 4th quarter. Following a Blazers win, we made our way back towards my neighborhood to the upscale and heavenly "Stars Cabaret". It was there we ran into my buddy Fred, who was hosting a business party with all his mortgage broker co-workers, a raucous group that fancies the booger sugar, strippers and shots of hard liquor. If the night was fuzzy earlier, it was downright blurry by this point. Several shots and god knows what else later, we left and were dropped off at the "Sunset Strip". Greg and Dean left us there as Petty and I promised to walk home after just one more beer.
Well folks, here's where things get ugly. From what I was told, I proceeded to bum a few smokes from a stripper at the Sunset Strip and after we left the Strip to walk home at nearly 2am, I lit up one of those smokes to enjoy on the stumble back. And like one of Pavlov's dogs trained to drool at the sound of a bell, I led Petty and my drunken butt to the front door of Coach's with the sole intent of using it as a short cut back to my house. It was there that Bill the Bartender spotted me and saw the cigarette dangling from my drunken mouth. When asked to leave immediately, I went off in a drunken tirade against him and told him under no uncertain terms that I would be walking through to the back door with the cigarette in my mouth.
Oh, I went through the back door alright. Only I'm not sure I went through it on my feet. When I woke up the next morning, I had trouble moving my left arm. When I looked in the mirror, I had a bruise around the elbow area that looked like a tattoo. I asked Petty what the hell happened to us and his memory was about as effective as mine was, meaning he didn't have a clue. So how did I find out what happened, you ask? Funny story, that.
About 2 weeks after this evening, I was set up to watch the Blazers playoff game vs. Houston. However, TNT was not done showing the east coast game, which had gone to OT. Angered that the game wasn't on yet, I rushed over to Coach's to see if their satellite feed was broadcasting the start of the game. It was, so I sidled up to the bar and was met there by Bill, who glared at me through his glasses, his nostrils flaring like a bull. He asked me "You bum any cigarettes lately"? I replied "What"? And he said "You don't remember, do you? You came in here the other night with a cigarette in your mouth. When I asked you to leave, you said some really mean things to me." I didn't have to ask what else happened from there. I didn't leave, either. I looked at him and said "Look, I'm really sorry for whatever happened. It seems as if there's some bad blood between us, so how about I apologize with this" and handed him a $20 for a Budweiser, telling him to keep the change. We shook hands, I drank my Bud and got out of there as fast as possible.
I've been back a handful of times since, but our relationship is not a very good one and about 2 months ago, he flat out refused to serve me and Petty at the tail end of a drunken night where both of us had trouble recalling specifics in the morning. Can't say I blame him, but one day soon, I'm going to walk in there sober as a judge as ask him for a dickmitten, extra rapey. It might be the last thing I do in life, but I think it'll be worth it.
not sure the topic of discussion over the past page or so is good for the long-term health of this thread.
zander_s
Footballguy
Brush off the dirt people.......walk it off.......this thread is to good to lose now!!
UOFI_316
Footballguy
So we should stop talking about how to make a cake??And not that I would know how, but if someone was to cut off the slightly over cooked portion of a cake, they should make sure the cake is cooled off before frosting it. And they should do a "dirty frost" first where you don't care if the frosting picks up crumbles of the cake, let that sit in the fridge, and then do a final coating of frosting.
This may have been my daughters cake for her second birthday. Elmo
JaxBill
Footballguy
krista4
Footballguy
Please to clean up? Don't want to lose the thread.
Homer J Simpson
I don't push
Hi everyone.
no time for love, dr. jones.Please to clean up? Don't want to lose the thread.
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