I Would Fight Kevin Youkilis

One of my good friends (a member of this blog) has a bit of an edge to him. If he's been drinking and the wrong guy at the wrong time and place comes along, my amigo is ready to fight. The good thing is, he is usually too wasted to actually do it or calmer heads prevail and we go back to drinking.

So what's my point? Generally speaking, I am one of the calmer heads. Don't get me wrong, I am an idiot and I will do just about anything. It's just that fighting to me isn't glamorous or fun. Actually, fights hurt and pain ain't cool.

However, Kevin Youkilis must be the quintessential wrong guy and time and place for me. Every time I see him I want to bash his head in. I am not sure if it's sphincter hair goatee or the stupid way Red Sux fans chant "Yoooooouuuuk" every time he is announced. I am pretty sure part of it is that ridiculous hands apart, 12 year old female softball player dance / stance he has at the plate.

Whatever the cause, whatever the reason that ass clown makes my pacifist blood boil. Chances are, it's because he plays for a sports team that I have never hated anything more than. 90% of Sux fans have never been to Boston and the other 10% are on parole. They sucked (I mean really, out loud sucked) for 84 years. After 2 Series wins these frontrunners crawl out of the woodwork with their sideways, flat billed "B" hats. And then, of all things, have they have the audacity to call a Rays fan obnoxious. Ummm, sure buddy.

Anyway, I would fight Kevin Youkilis. Stay tuned to the sequels to this post: "Manny Ramirez Wears Hammer Pants," "Jason Papelbon Likes Barbara Streisand," "My 6 Month Old Throws Harder than Wakefield," and "Jason Varitek and His "C" Jersey Drive a Fusion."

"We doin' big pimpin, we spendin' cheese..."

Last night the Mrs. and I rolled into Bern’s for dinner. As you may have guessed, my days of self parking are long gone. I rolled the Fusion right on up to valet and tossed him the keys. Cause that’s how you know you’re a baller. Maybe it was the cocktails and wine, or maybe it was the copious amount of time I spent in the sun yesterday, or perhaps a combination of both, but I decided to get crazy and break all ordering conventions. First, I noticed that one of the appetizer specials was “Tres Tacos”. Three soft tacos, one each of beef, shrimp, and pork and done in a way that only Bern’s could pull off. Truly phenomenal. Then for the first time in my life I ordered something at Bern’s besides steak, opting for the rare, peppered Tuna. This particular dish came with, oddly enough, Fries. These were no crap Oreda fries though. These were Bern’s fries and they were the best I have ever tasted. So apparently Tampa’s finest steakhouse is now my favorite Tacos and French Fries joint….because deep down I’m simple. Later in the desert room, the Mrs. and I got embroiled in a heated game of “Name That Tune” using the songs the pianist was playing. After she jumped out to a quick 4-2 lead, I came roaring back and took the game 5-4. The song I won on? Barry Manilow’s “Copacabana”…..because deep down I am also very gay.

"Sweet Caroline (BA BA BA), Good times never felt so good"

Suck on that "Red Sox Nation". See you in September.

Go Rays!

"It ain't true that the sun don't rise in Vegas, I've seen it once"

If this blog were VH-1 then think of this post as VH-1 Classic. This is something I put together last October in anticipation of my Bachelor weekend. It will give anyone reading this a LOT more insight into just who the hell these 5 guys are. I have changed the names to protect the guilty. Without further adoo, the 5 Guys’ Top 10 Vegas Moments:

10. “The Night at MGM”: This one has been the source of much debate over the years. On an overnight trip from L.A. with , , and , Dawn in 1999, I found myself at a blackjack table somewhere in MGM at 3:00 in the morning after the others had gone to bed. At the table with me were 2 guys my age, one of whom was also from Tampa, and an older gentleman. As we played, the three young guys cracked jokes and drank while the older gent just continued to accumulate chips. Some time around 7:00 a.m. he stood up, said “guys it has been a hell of a night”, and pushed a portion of his chips to each of us. Between my winnings and his charity I had around $3,800 at one point. Over the next few hours I would give all but about $700 of that back, but I was having too much fun to get up and leave. Finally I got up, staggered out to the pool (I had been wearing board shorts and a ratty T-Shirt the entire time) and fell asleep for several hours, eventually missing my flight back to L.A.. I used most of what was left of my winnings to buy a walk up ticket on Reno Air. Everyone in my family still clamors to hear “the real story” which, as I’ve mentioned, is told in its entirety above. As a side note, while all this was going on some drunk woman came up and asked me if I was Vince Neil. I can’t even begin to fathom why.

9. “South Strip Day”: While staying at Ceasers for a work conference in February of 2006, I had the opportunity to go exploring one day. At the time I wrote the following about the excursion:
“Today has been epic thus far. Right after I woke up while I was still wiping the sleep from eyes and scratching my balls I got on the phone and closed what could be (potentially) a huge recruit which could mean (potentially) a very, VERY nice payday for me. *Editor’s Note: It was neither*. To celebrate I went on a huge walkabout of the south strip. I got a margarita at a roadside joint and made my way to Hooter's casino. At first glance it is very cool. It looks like a giant Hooter's with full liquor and gambling. What could be better? The plan was to have lunch there but the actual Hooter's restaurant had a line that was about an hour long to get in so I ate at Pete and Shorty's, which also serves as their sports book. The book is hilarious. It is literally a counter in the back corner with two dudes and a dry ink board. After I ate I played some cards and their tables proved to be as unforgiving as I had heard. After I left there I went to the Trop and played some beginners Blackjack at the $5 tables (the only ones I have seen all week). From there I made stops at the Excalibur, Luxor, The Hotel, and Mandalay before making my way to New York, New York (where I had some very nice luck playing with a good ole country boy and a real By God Mexican). Overall I gambled at Paris, Aladdin, Hooters, Trop, Excalibur, Luxor, Mandalay, and NY, NY and finished about even. Along the way I drank about 37 beers, 3 waters, two energy drinks, and a margarita. The weather was perfect. High 60's, slight breeze, and not a could in the sky. I also rode the monorail which is really very cool and economical. Got back to Ceasers in time to shower and shave and head to dinner in about an hour with the guys from my department to celebrate the afore mentioned deal that I closed. Hopefully I'll still be upright in a few hours. The 5 nights here are starting to take a toll. I'm borderline exhausted but with only about 36 hours left I can't let up.

8. “Light”: That very same conference I had a very nice evening at Light, the marquee night club in the Bellagio. Again, I chronicled the evening at the time thusly:
“Tonight I was everything I am not. I was a shot caller. I was a big baller. I suited up. It was most definitly my birfday. It kinda sucked. After taking a couple of my prospects out to a fancy dinner at the Venetian (average entree cost $60), I met up with some friends and went to LIGHT in Bellagio. We bypassed an hour and half wait and a $30 cover because my boy Scotty is the ultimate salesman. He convinced the bouncer that we were supposed to be on JoJo Buldin's list. JoJo is not a real human. Scott made him up.....and got us in and comped. LIGHT is a typical club full of silicon babies and wanabees. I was the best dressed person in the joint because I was still in my suit and looking good. It was a typical club and after a while I got bored with the 12 show girls that were hanging out at our VIP table (no exaggeration) and left. On the way to my room I stopped at a $25 table and played some cards with 3 Associates of my fine firm. After a little up and down at $75 a hand, I took $105 back from the tables making me even (I think) for the trip. I have to give a speech in 7 hours (I think) and I'm not sure how it will go. I also have a basketball game with some big time advisors tomorrow. I'm looking forward to this despite the fact that I have apparently broken my ankle. It is roughly the size of Frank's head and I have no discernable toenails, which I don't think is normal at all. I have no idea how this happened. I would ice both the foot and my head but I have no ice. I have been here for little over a day and it feels like a life time. I love it and am ready to cash out all at once. Tomorrow the real fun begins. I wish at least one of you were here.
*Editor’s Note: In hindsight this was a really great evening and produced some fantastic stories. For Goodness Sake, WE HAD 12 VEGAS SHOWGIRLS AT OUR VIP TABLE!!!*

7. “Everyone OUT of the pool”: March of 2005, a mere 2 days after Frank and I had our run in with Federales and spent time in the Tijuana klink, we found ourselves hanging out with Ant’ny in Vegas. It was Saturday, we were wrecked…the norm. At one point we found ourselves wandering around The Flamingo (not our hotel) and decided to have a swim in their pool despite the chilly temps and lack of other pool patrons. We were quickly asked by hotel security if we didn’t find it a bit queer that we were the only ones swimming in a normally crowded resort pool. The pool, as one would suspect, was closed and they quickly asked us to leave. Upon leaving we discovered a bar that would serve us rum drinks in coconuts carved into the shape of pirate monkeys (awesome). Later that afternoon we spontaneously decided to try and get tickets to a Jimmy Buffett concert that evening, where we drank and danced until such time that I nearly died of exhaustion/alcohol poisoning. Good times.

6. “National Champs”: This past January I was staying at the RIO with my boss and two of my colleagues for a conference. On the second night of the conference our beloved Florida Gators were playing for the National Championship. The four of us laid our money down on the good guys, found a good spot to watch the game, and enjoyed the subsequent route. Not only did I win $230 on the game, but my boss also happens to be a Bull Gator who was in the mood to celebrate when the game ended. We went upstairs and had a steak and lobster dinner, complete with more cocktails and a nice bottle of wine….all on him. By the time we were finished it was the middle of the night and we were all good n’ drunk. A very nice way to celebrate a Championship for our boys.

5. “Bikini Bull Riding”: It was January, it was cold, it was my 7th night in Vegas (3 of which were with some of the knuckleheads on this blog). I was done. We all should have been at that point. But while illness and common sense allowed Pauly and Ant’ny to ignore “I need one good hour from you” speech, I am a sucker for peer pressure and I gave in. We found ourselves at 1:00 a.m. in Gilley’s in the Frontier for Bikini Bull Riding and $1 Busch Beer Drafts. I think at one point I attempted to two step but almost fell down. Later that night, through a strange turn of events, I met Lemmy from Motorhead in an establishment that I have since determined was probably a brothel, though I was unaware of this at the time. As a side note, getting our picture taken under the “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign earlier this same evening was also a noteworthy occurrence.

4. “The Run”: My single greatest gambling achievement. It was March of 2003. We had a crew of many, both family and friends, in town for the trip, but this story relates only to Ant’ny and I. Shortly after it happened, I wrote the following:
“….Once back at Harrah's a couple people stopped to eat but Ant'ny and I weren't hungry. I suggested a couple hands of Blackjack while the others ate but he didn't have any money on him, having reached Saturday's spending limit (Always a very good idea to have one of those) *Editor’s Note: This may be the last time Ant’ny exercised this kind of judgment in Vegas*. Being the friend that I am I flipped him a $10 and we sat down. That's when it started, an evening that will forever be known simply as "THE RUN". Over the course of a few hours I won a couple hundred while Ant'ny turned that $10 into $750. It was the hottest table ever. Probably the only bad thing about that night is the face I know Pauly is making right now while reading this. He had looked every where for us, finally giving up and going to bed.

3. “Cards in the Pool”: Way back in our college days Pauly and I were on a week long trip out to California. While staying with he informed us that we would be heading out to Vegas for an overnight trip to celebrate his buddy Kenny’s graduation from the Sherriff’s Academy. The group we ended up with was the four of us and Aussie Mark. The next day we headed over to the pool at Tropicana where we were able to secure an in pool Blackjack table. *Editor’s Note: Several years later Ant’ny would get peed on at this very same table*. Despite being under age at the time, we played and drank for most of the afternoon, taking breaks only to use the restroom or so that could swim across the pool and propose to a young lady who looked particularly nice in a bikini. Probably made all the better by the fact that two of us were under age and had already been tossed from several establishments. More to come on that. After we finished, we threw some clothes on over our bathing suits, grabbed some food at the buffet (Aussie Mark: “look at the size of those F’ing carrots”! Pauly: “those are yams”), and went to the airport to fly home.

2. “Ridin’ With the Russian”: What can you even say about that cab ride. From the driver’s opening epithet of “F’ing Vegas” to his polishing off of beer as we pulled into the hotel, it was one of the craziest, scariest, most memorable 10 minutes of my life. I know that one day many years from now, the hidden video will surface, but I don’t need it. I remember every single thing about our run in with the drunken, maniacal, Bella Carosi looking cabbie.

1. “My Very First Time”: While I had been to Vegas once when I was 16 (I was abandoned by in Circus, Circus while he went to play cards), there was no way I was getting away with anything at that age. So I really consider my first trip to be the setup described in number 3. I was still a good 4 months shy of my 21st birthday but thought I would take my chances. Right after dinner Pauly and I were able to get away with a few hands of blackjack at the Hard Rock, before they politely asked us to leave. Later that evening we were able to worm our way into The Beach Club, which was a very loud club with lots of people and bikini clad bartenders. After some time, I lost the group and decided to head back to The Sahara, where we were staying, on my own. I sidled up to a $5 blackjack table and had a seat. As I continued to play (and win), I kept waiting for someone to come check my ID. I sat there for hours. stopped by at one point and encouraged me to hang it up, but I just kept going. The rush was too strong. I was underage, drinking, and gambling at a Las Vegas casino. Finally, at one point late in the evening a pit boss came over and asked to see my ID. When I could not produce it, he asked me to leave the table. So I did, and walked right over to the other side of the casino and started playing again. Vegas. What else can you say.

"And I'll fight for the right to go over that hill, If it only means something to me"

Each of the Five Guys is at this point pretty well established in adulthood. Some of us are raising families, others are focused on delusions of building empires. I myself have a pretty cool job that many people would love to have. It allows me to set my own hours, earn potentially uncapped bonuses, and travel to some cool places. So, yeah, I got no worries on that front. But sometimes, maybe two or three times a year, I just completely glaze over. In college I referred to this as “Spring Fever” but as I advance in years I realize that I am gripped by the most insatiable case of Wanderlust imaginable. When this gets a hold of me occupational and domestic concerns have no bearing on my reality and the most important thing in my world is the view from my office window, the water in the distance and the hazy skyline on the other side, and beyond that…the horizon and the unknown. It is on days and weeks such as this when I would love nothing more than to get in the car and just drive until such point that I found some place that compelled me to stop. Eventually the curtain of reality falls on this little fantasy in the form of a ringing phone or an Outlook reminder popping up to remind me of a meeting. But for right now, until that phone rings, I am embracing the hell out of that Far Away Gaze and enjoying the adventure in my mind.

"If I die before I'm old, my story will be less than told"

My job requires me to travel on fairly regular basis and allows me to go to some fairly interesting locations, as well as some down right wretched ones. It is a fairly indiscriminate occupation in the regard. Regardless of the destination, I am not and have never been a “room service” guy. I complete the work that I made the trip for and then make it a priority to get out of the hotel and see whatever that particular City, Town, Province, or Parrish has to offer.

Last week I found myself in Nashville on the same night that Jason Isbell was performing at The Mercy Lounge. This was far more than just good fortune, this was the equivalent of some celestial alignment, as I had just missed his show in my own town a few weeks earlier (ironically, because I was traveling for work). Needless to say I attended the show. I believe that I was the fourth or fifth person to arrive at The Mercy, depending on whether you count the bartender. It was a while before show time which resulted in a solid 4 beer wait time. People trickled in over that time and by show time the crowd was large and comprised mostly of floppy haired frat boys with sunglasses hanging around their neck (the number one fashion accessory of the Southern douche bag) and their very pretty girlfriends wearing sundresses and pretending to loooooooove Jason Isbell.

After suffering through the gloomy, off-key warbling of opener Jessica Mayfield, Isbell casually strolled on stage, plugged his guitar in, raised the beer he was drinking in acknowledgement of the crowd and then launched into his powerful set. Other than telling the crowd (which had grown a little too large for the smallish bar to handle) that he was “selling some shit there in the back of the room” and, later, that he was “taking a 10 minute break to smoke a cigarette”, Isbell stayed mostly introverted, preferring to let his songs tell the stories rather than waste any time doing it himself. Throughout the well over two hour set he deftly alternated between songs from his Drive By Truckers past (Decoration Day, Danko/Manuel) and his solo present (Chicago Promenade, Razor Town), with a couple of solid covers thrown in for good measure. While he probably will never be known as a great entertainer, Jason Isbell proved yet again that he is an incredibly talented musician and one of his generation’s best song writers.