Now that I’m clean-shaven and no longer look like this:

Or this:

I must admit, I missed my face.  I went through one day of phantom beard, but that was it.  I should mention my regret for removing the season-long Red Wings hockey beard on the first day of the Stanley Cup playoffs, but in order to fly to NYC without hassle, it seemed worth the hassle.  (Thank goatee they’re advancing to Round 2!)

Anysubway, I won’t bore you with the details.  All the details.  Just some of them.

Jay was Hitting One Liners Out of the Park

On Friday, we headed to Yankee Stadium to see two of our beloved ex-Tigers play (Curtis Granderson and, um, Marcus Thames), and all day, my buddy Jay was calling ’em like he saw ’em.

Some of things he said that were actually documented:

I need to stop calling these trips vacations and start calling them work out retreats.

If I owned that shirt it’d be my third favorite shirt.

Hey I’m paying twenty bucks to look at empty stages tomorrow.

Steve: Who sings ‘I Can See Clearly Now the Rain is Gone?’
Jay: Ke$ha.

What are you? A garbophobe?

It’s getting all Wendy’s up in here! [This one was mine. – Ed.]

“It’s Getting All Wendy’s Up in Here!”

I wish I had photos as proof, but Wendy’s in Midtown is, simply put, insane.  I don’t think it was an isolated incident either.  The show Ugly Americans even gave a shout out to it.

At any rate, the breakdown of events (this all happened within fifteen minutes):

• Some one threw their filled drink in the air.
• A sober girl was trying to get a trashed girl up the stairs.
• Steve slipped on the spilled drink and dropped everything but his drink.
• Chris tripped down some stairs while holding only the top bun covered in its toppings.  (He wanted a plain one.)
• Somebody left a strange package on one of the tables.  (I checked what it was, damned if I remember.)
• A person kept screaming about how he wanted to kill everyone, and no one reacted.

I don’t know.  It seemed much crazier when I was trashed.

I’m So Proud of Myself for Something Not Proud

On Saturday, we found a bar called No Idea and like the bar’s name, we had no idea what was in store (hee!).  We stopped here after not getting to play ping-pong at Susan Sarandon’s Spin because they were closing for a private party.

BONUS JAY QUOTE!

Here I was under the impression none of us played ping-pong.

The plan was this: kick back a few cheap drinks, make our way to bar hop in East Village, and finally check out P.D.T.’s in Crif Dogs (our missed mission from last year).  Let’s just say that plan’s quickly becoming an annual tradition.

As soon as the drinks kept flowing (courtesy of an all-you-can-drink party), the remainder of the night became a blur.

Oh yeah – my proud moment… I threw up and quickly returned to drink more.  I never knew I had it in me to do that!

The Drunk Idea of the Trip

Andrew Dice Clay’s reality show should have been called Rollin’ with Dice.  I was going to make a graphic, but fuck it (heehee!).