Two for One

This is the first night in about 3 weeks where I have decided to take it easy. Since I still don't have cable yet, I am bored out of my mind so I thought I would try to make a contribution to this blog. As I'm sure Simply Suds and Anonymous will admit, Nashville is a pretty cool place. However, I must say that there is no place like home. However, the one thing about home that really chaps my a$$ is that they have no drink specials.

Maybe its because all us sick bastards from up North don't really give a rat's a$$ what the price is, and that we will still get loaded no matter what. I'm not asking to have drink specials on weekends or Sunday's, but what about the weekdays? I went to the bar last night (which was packed and there are no undergrads here yet), ordered about 10 beers, and my tab was $15! Are you dicking me? That same night, I paid the guy at 'Jack in the Box' another $20 because he wouldn't serve me...because I was walking through the drive-thru! So...it was cheaper for me to get loaded than to eat a god damn cheeseburger.

I'm In Love With the Bah-tend-ahh

First and foremost, I can honestly say that Nashville, TN is one of the greatest places on earth. The Commodore is going to have the time of his life while he spends his 2 years at Vanderbilt, and I hope to make many more trips down....even if we've all probably been banned from his apartment from the 4 day bender we went on. Nonetheless, what an amazing city. Coming from an atmosphere up north (everyone's pretty much an a$$hole), to a city where people look you in the eye, and are incredibly friendly....was a culture shock for all of us.

Now that I've made my point. We all fell in love with two bartenders. Lindsey and Joana, from Graham Central Station, were two of the hottest southern bells I've ever laid eyes on. Between the 5 of us, we were split right down the middle on who was hotter....but these girls were as friendly and smokin' hot as they come. In between the $.75 cent Bud Light bottles this bar serves (yes, I said Bud Light bottles for under a buck....we had about 200 in 2 days), these two absolute smoke-shows do a dance on the bar every twenty minutes. The routine involves some serious Rhump Shakin' and other provocative moves that had me completely blown away. And since this is my post, I'm throwing my vote in Lindsey's corner. How is this girl not an absolute star? Well, I'm making a hard push to make her a star. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. She's flawless. Oh, did I mention that you could funnel beers at this bar too....against other people? You know I was undefeated. But my southern bell gets all the credit for holding my funnel just the right way, and leading her Yankee gentleman to victory.

Keep up the good work, Lindsey and Joana. The Win Column gives credit where credit is due, and you girls took care of The Win Column boys this weekend. Next time we're in town, we'll be sure to pay you another visit. And my dearest Lindsey, I love you.


*** In the top photo Lindsey is pictured on the left, while Joana holds it down on the right.

*** Photos courtesy of the Graham Central Station website

Update #3 from Simply Suds -- "Puke on One's Chest does not Attract the Southern Bells"

Suds sent this along yesterday afternoon, but I wasn't near a computer...so, it's just now being posted...

It's Friday, and I'm on double digit beers down here in central standard time. Last night was a complete $hitshow. Our objective was to get some southern bells to cook us grits for breakfast after they woke up on our romantic Aero beds, but what really ended up happening was us finding gold. We ended up at a country bar that was having a promotion.....free Bud Lights. I repeat, free Bud Lights!! So as a group, we probably sucked down 60 of them, along with shots of Tequila and Southern Comfort. On we went to Tootsies (thanks to the reader that suggested this), and we're probably not allowed back. Some muscle head jerk-off from Chicago asked me if I wanted to fight for fun. Seeing as though I have my left hand bandaged up from stitches, I decided against throwing a sucker punch or bottle at the beast. He seemed ok with the answer, until he put his cigarette out on my cell phone because I didn't accept his invitation to "dance". Just as we made our way to the dance floor to boot, scoot, and boogey with some cuntay....we had 2 soldiers go down. One buddy completely threw up all over his chest in the middle of the bar, and another ran to the $hitter and hugged the toilet for a good 20 minutes. Needless to say, we didn't achieve any of our goals.....but we did black out again. Maybe tonight I'll hit for the cycle. We'll see. Have a good weekend!

Update #2 from Simply Suds -- "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy"

As promised yesterday, I arrived in Nashville about 14 beers deep and I had a thirst that couldn't be quenched. After somehow running up a $120 tab amongst 4 of us in an hour....we decided it was time to get deep into the mix at a honky bar. Two things I've learned about Nashville thus far...

1. They sure like their country music, to the tune of live music at every establishment.

2. Cougars are everywhere....and their accent is off the hooooookkkk.

Needless to say, we all blacked out pretty hard and don't remember how we got from the bar to our hotel. They apparently don't believe in shot glasses down here....shots consist of half a plastic cup of booze. We have a buddy flying in today, and then we move The Commodore into his new pad. I've been dreaming about this apartment pool for 3 weeks, and I promise not to disappoint The Win Column readers.

Since when did "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" become a cool song?????? Someone should let these people know they look like a$$holes singing this song at the top of their lungs.

Live Update from Simply Suds -- "On the Road Again"

This is Sudsy reporting live from Harrisonburg, VA on Route 81 South. I just had my first cold Bud Light from the inside of The Commodore's Dodge Neon....that looks more like a brothel than it does a car. There is a ton of unused farm land down here where everyone f*cks their relatives, and I now know why people tip cows over....they're smug as friggin' toddlers. They stare as you drive by, and all my fat mouth can do is water at the thought of their t-bone thigh in my gullet.

Last night in DC was interesting. We met up with some college buddies, and The Commodore spent most of the night talking to some young former victim of a slaying. I will say this though about DC....for some reason there are tons of hot escorts running through bars trying to sucker in some guy that is so fat he can't even see his own d*ck. As in, most of these girls are 9's out of 10. I think that's something that Boston bars should look into. I wonder how much it costs to have one of them suck you off in an alley......interesting question.

On the move to Nashville.....catch up with all of you perverts in the near future. I should be about 13 Bud Lights deep by Nashville.....and then things are going to start to get really, really weird.

The Win Column Will Be Blogging Live from Vanderbilt University in Nashville, TN From Weds-Saturday

As Suds and Slowstuff are set to move The Commodore into grad school at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee tomorrow....I'd just like to take this opportunity to thank all of you for reading my contributions to The Win Column. There is a decent chance I don't make it back from this trip alive. Do you have any idea how weird I can get down south? Nashville girls are sure to know who I am after this trip. Three things that may happen on this trip:

1) Alcohol Poisoning

2) I get beat up by a red neck

3) I get arrested and nobody feels like bailing me out

...All of which I am completely fine with, since I have zero use of my left hand due to an accident at work last week.....but, I can assure you that I'll be using The Commodore's laptop to provide you all with live updates from this debacle of a trip. I'm excited. I haven't been on a road trip in quite some time, and I have an appetite for destruction. Commodore has a pool on the roof of his apartment building, and I can assure you that from Wednesday-Sunday, no matter the time, bathing suits will be completely optional. He may be evicted by Friday and on his way back home with us. Stay tuned for my Wednesday update......until then, the rest of the fellas will hold this site down while Sudsy heads due south. I just packed my Levi's 501 jeans next to some other weird $hit I'm bringing. Nashville here we come!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*** I'm hoping to get some suggestions on last second items I may be forgetting. Also, anyone that's been to Nashville, feel free to write a comment on some places to go and people to do. Wordddddd.

Fly Me to the Moon...

Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
In other words hold my hand
In other words darling kiss me

Fill my life with song
And let me sing forevermore
You are all I hope for
All I worship and adore
In other words please be true
In other words I love you

-Frank Sinatra

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I apologize for getting caught up in a Sinatra moment, but sometimes you just gotta feel the song and get emotional. Per cnn.com today, NASA has released information that says that a bunch of U.S. astronauts have flown space shuttles while absolutely dizzle-hawked.

A panel found that flight surgeons allowed intoxicated astronauts to fly on the shuttle.

The revelation shocked former astronauts and came as NASA deals with the apparent sabotage of a computer bound for the orbiting international space station.

Earlier an Aviation Week story based on the report said the agency found "heavy use of alcohol" by astronauts within 12 hours of launch -- a violation of NASA's standard 12-hour "bottle-to-throttle" rule.

Ok, ok, ok....I'm f*cking confused. NASA has a standard "12 hour bottle to throttle rule"???? So, astronauts can get sh*tfaced after twelve hours that atomic jet blasts off from earth? No wonder we haven't done a god damn thing up in space. Seriously, what do they do up there? We should have been to planets and all that good crap, but instead....our astronauts were pounding booze, getting weird, and probably enjoying some good ol' fashioned space sex while we were expecting results. Actually, good for them. Astronauts are now my new heroes. You want see another headline on CNN.COM.....you put me in a space shuttle with 10 30-packs of Bud Light, two bottles of Bacardi, and four 2-liters of Diet Pepsi.....and I'll show you how weird things can get up in orbit.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/TECH/space/07/27/nasa.woes/index.html

Is It OK to Write on a Passed Out Friend?

Here at the Win Column....rather than argue with Chieftain over his baseball rankings (that absolutely suck)....I say we move on to a more enjoyable debate, and discussion. Is it ok to write all over a buddy that passes out the earliest at a party? I can think of many occasions where I've had d*cks, Nazi propaganda, and many other weird things written on me when I passed out. I awake to find my eyelids colored in, and signatures on my legs, arms, and usually somewhere else that's weird. But don't get me wrong, it's not a one way street. I thoroughly enjoy writing on anyone that passes out early at a party. It's your own fault for being a p*ssy and not being able to hang with the big boys (and girls). I love to find the nearest PERMANENT Sharpie marker and absolutely pepper someone with unthinkable words, symbols, and other creepy things. Just ask the Commodore about how last month I colored in his ears, nose, eyes, and gave him a Hitler mustache after he was the first one to pass out at a party.

Is it ok to draw all over a buddy in permanent marker when he's passed out? And if you don't think I have a Sharpie in my hand....and the Commodore didn't have a little too many "Suds" tonight.....and he's not passed out on my couch....well...stay tuned to see if I create a Picasso on his moley face.

What I Really Want For Christmas Is.....

...an alcohol monitoring anklet like Lindsay Lohan has to wear on a daily basis. I can't even imagine how fun it would be to sit around with a bunch of buddies watching college football on a Saturday, all while seeing who can get the most f*cked up while we watch our anklets skyrocket into the lethal blood alcohol levels. Post-blackout, I always wonder what my numbers would have been....and now I have a way to achieve these goals. Lytedogg could possibly give me a run for my money....he's not afraid to suck down 22-28 cold Busch Lights in a dorm room. I've seen it first hand. Orlando would probably come in last, because he'd only manage to drink one of his wheat pale ale stout amber brews, all while we annihilate 30 racks. Nightmare would probably pass out in a cab before we could read his alcohol meter. Oh, and the creepy pr*ck that is known as the Commodore...he'd probably be the most upset, due to the fact that the anklet would weigh down his crucial slow dancing first-step leg.

As for Chieftain....he probably wouldn't drink. He'd still be pouting in his room and doing curls after a Yankees loss.

Either way, hopefully the price of these anklets will come way down so we can all enjoy a day of football, booze, buffy chicken pizzas.....all to see who can get the most f*cked up. Oh, and yes...I will put in a couple of whacker bets....all capped off with me praying to God that Hawaii covers 21 at midnight, or I'm in a world of trouble.


(Photos courtesy of http://www.idontlikeyouinthatway.com)

Where Has Chieftain Been?

It's the question that all the kids have been asking for the past week...

Yes, it's true...I've recently just returned back from Sunset Beach, North Carolina -- a trip of many high's and low's.

This past Monday morning...Sportspen, another reader that we'll refer to as "Terp" for purposes of this post, and myself all boarded Spirit Airlines (the worst company in American existence - but, we'll get to that in another post) at the a$$-crack of dawn.

Some of us returned late Friday evening, while others were forced to return Saturday afternoon (again, because of Spirit Airlines - the worst company in America). All-in-all, I'd give our entire North Carolina adventure a 6.5 (out of 10). There were far too many underage girls, great weather (enough so to make me certifiably black), beautiful beaches, endless golf courses, Myrtle Beach (the most overrated place in history), Wilmington (the most underrated place in history), near arrests (aka, "bottle fights"), fights amongst each other, terrible pick-up lines (aka, "text bandakute references"), and much more. Have I mentioned underage girls yet??? As in, tons-and-tons-and-tons of high school butts. As in, I was the high school prom chaperon in most places (Wilmington being the exception).

Anyways, I won't bore you with many more details...other than my encounter with Julia Stiles at City Limits Saloon (in Wilmington, NC). First off, let me clarify how we discovered this gold mine. After a disappointing 4th of July, we were determined to take Thursday night (which was supposed to be our final night for all -- again, Spirit Airlines SUCKS) by storm...a knock-out punch so to speak (yes, another reference to the aforementioned near absurd "bottle fight"). So, what'd we do?? What all tipsy responsible adults do. You guessed it...we drove 40+ miles to Wilmington. Upon parking, we became ultimate creeps and followed two 10's a few blocks to the land of "Cold Beer...Hot Chicks". Yes, that is the exact slogan of the City Limits Saloon. Upon entering one of the best bar experiences of my life, I immediately walked into a screaming DJ...to the tune of "30 minutes until the Bikini Bull Riding contest" -- as I watched a set of DD's ripping through a shirt that wouldn't have fit the adolescent shoulders of any of the aforementioned high school "tight-butts". My second encounter?? The discovery of America's Hottest Bartender, a 23-year-old 5th Year Senior at UNC-Wilmington. Words cannot begin to describe the body (as in, yes, I just pulled my 'pud to it -- I'm sure Sportspen and Terp have as well) on this goddess.

Anyways...on to Julia Stiles, whom Cosmopolitan has recently declared as the "Least B*tchy Girl in Hollywood" (see the above cover). Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaah right!!! Julia Stiles could very well be a nice individual, but let me tell you...her ugly freckled sidekick is a kick in the nuts! What am I talking about, you ask??

Ok, allow me to step back for a minute. I have a routine -- meaning...when I enter I bar, I instinctively scour the entire scene for "talent". During this process, I will undoubtedly discover some "potential" that is assured to be hit on before night's end. If none is prevalent to the keen eye, then odds are that I'll be on to bigger and better bars...sooner than later. Well, as you probably already figured out for yourself...the City Limits Saloon was packed with eye candy. In one corner, you had said bartender...in another corner, you had the finest that L.A. has to offer (a brunette named Courtney that was visiting her friend - by the way, I love her)...in another corner, you had the two 10's that we followed into the bar...in another corner, you had the dozens of bikini-clad "bull riders" (you think I'm kidding, don't you?)...the list goes on-and-on-and-on.

Oh yeah, how'd I forget...in another corner, you had Julia Stiles, her ugly freckled friend, and the 280 lb. man that Julia Stiles was kissing on all night. Yes, you read that correctly. Julia Stiles, a "7" on her best day (but receives major points for being a celebrity), was demonstrating serious PDA with the fattest dude in the bar -- a guy that was rockin' an EXTRA LONG braided belt (I know this because his shirt was tucked into his fat stomach). On my walk to the restroom, I had to refrain from punching this fat man's face in. Needless to say, I was in awe of what I was watching. It reminded me of my overweight ex-roommate and his girlfriend...only 100 times worse. I just had to interrupt and do something about it.

For those of you reading that don't know me, I can be blunt. In this instance, however, I wanted to play my cards perfectly. After all, if I banged the snot out of Julia Stiles, I would have taken endless photos -- and, coincidentally, The Win Column would currently be the most popular site on the net. So, what did I do? I positioned myself in prime real estate. And, what do you know...but no more than 2 minutes later, Julia Stiles was dancing within 12 inches of me to the tune of "Dipsy-Do" and "Cotton Eyed Joe". Whaaaaaaat???? Mr. DJ, you just killed my flow. As a white dude, I consider myself an above average dancer...BUT, I don't have the slightest clue when it comes to country!

As I waited the songs out and shot the $h*t with Sportspen, Terp, and every other chick that I had fallen in love with for that one night, I kept thinking to myself...what was I going to do/say to break the ice with Julia Stiles??? After all, I was doing this for the good of The Win Column. It's my duty. In the end, I opted to go with my usual "confident approach" -- meaning, I walked directly over to Stiles' crew, looked her fat-a$$ man in the eyes, looked Julia in the eyes, and then casually introduced myself. Normally, this makes girls melt. I've yet to experience Hollywood, but I'm guessing that I might need a new tactic if I were to ever decide to move there. During this brief conversation, Julia seemed approachable -- however, I sensed some awkwardness...after all, I was deliberately trying to sway her away from her "man".

10 minutes later...I watched Julia's obese boy-toy get up for the bathroom. Thus, I immediately swooped in for the kill...to the tune of her ugly-freckled friend's wrath. Along with Terp, I approached Julia... shared a few words, and then...BOOM! The friend's jealous rage (at least, that's what I'll call it) was unleashed on my a$$. I honestly don't think another girl has ever yelled at me in such a manner. This girl's acne was spewing everywhere, all while her yellow teeth acted as night-lights. And, Julia just let this b*tch keep yappin', didn't say a word, and looked in the other direction. To be honest, I was confused and didn't know exactly how to react. So, I simply laughed at the beast, shook Julia's hand, and winked as I backpedaled.

At the end of the day, I have a few questions for the readers...

• What did I do wrong? How could my approach been improved?
• Should I have mouthed off to "Queen Complexion" (and Julia Stiles)?

As I'm in the process of moving and preparing to leave for Jamaica this coming Wednesday (life is good), I know I have a lot of posts and additional stories to catch up on. I'll do my best to do so...

http://www.ci.wilmington.de.us/mayorpress/2006/0707_outdoor_film_series.pdf

Celebrate Your Independence With Hot Chicks, Beer, and Grilled Meats

There is nothing that gets me fired up like the 3rd and 4th of July in America's Hometown. The 3rd of July is pretty much a $hit show from sun up to sun down...that usually starts at a beach, and ends when I wake up somewhere random early on the 4th, not remembering where I am or how I got there. Why would this year be any different? I don't really see it being any different. Especially, since I plan on celebrating the 3rd of July early, as in, tonight the 2nd. Why not? It's nice out, the bar has plenty of clam and ice cold Bud Light.....not to mention I hear that The Commodore and Nightmare are in town. Things have the potential to get really weird later. Nightmare has already informed me that he left his ID in Boston, so now we have to beg for his miserable, stinky self to be let into some sort of establishment. Way to go Nightmare, you jerkoff. We're about to go on a 3 day drinking bender, and you forget your license like a pervert going to a rub-and-tug.

I hope everyone celebrates their Independence in style over the next few days. And by that, I mean that I hope you hold a Roman candle too long and you burn yourself so you have a miserable 4th of July. May God bless the troops, hot chicks, beer, grilled meat, and anything else that gets your rocks off.

Enjoy the holiday.

I Hate the Day After Sunday

My liver feels like it was consistently punched from Thursday afternoon until this morning. I friggin' hate Monday's. But, I hate this one a little less because tomorrow is the 3rd of July, which means blacking out and meats on a grill. Two of life's great treasures.

Blacked Out!

This was me last night and will be for the rest of the week!

It's All About the Commodore Today....

I want to be honest with all of my readers. Most people would lay low during a day when they had to attend a party in Boston for their best friend that will be attending grad school 1500 miles away....but not Sudsy. I went to the beach today and had about 18 Bud Lights...and let me tell you....I am completely $hit-hawked out of my mind. I have no idea how I even took a shower and managed to look this good...because I am about an hour away from making the trip up to Boston to see my best friend, and celebrate his last month in town. Sure, I'll probably creep out about 56 girls I went to college with, and maybe 51 of their friends....but you know what....QUITE FRANKLY, I don't give a flying f*ck. Today is the Commodore's day. I plan on making an absolute mockery of the Bell 'N Hand Tavern at 7:30pm EST. And you can put that on the boooooooooooooarrrrrrrdddddddddddd...

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Long live MJM....the Commodore. We'll miss you buddy. Now here's to me getting kicked out of your farewell party.....much like Franky Thomas got ejected from his 500th HR game.

Cheers everyone, have a safe and happy weekend.

The Birthday Week Stretch Out Continues.......

After a softball game...10 Bud Lights, then to the bar where there were Patron shots, and about 8 more Bud Lights......I can barely see the computer screen.

You're all a bunch of c*nts, and I hope you all stop breathing sooner rather than later. This is birthday week part 33 1/3........and we're gettin' real weird at the beach tomorrow. Stay tuned for a live update from the c*nty sand.

My Worst Nightmare

Naomi Campbell has recently quit drinking since she realized that she was allergic to alcohol.

“I choose not to drink today in my life because I find that I’m allergic to alcohol. I’m not someone that’s in denial of my problems and I’m not going to lie about my problems and I’m not hiding my problems. I have more energy and I have more fun than when I was drinking and I can hang out really late and get up early in the morning with no hangovers and still smile.”

Holy crap. Can you imagine what your life would be without the tranquilizing effects of a nice alcoholic beverage? Drinking is pretty much the most fun thing in the world. No? A cold beer is pretty much my version of heaven....especially if it's a tall one in a frosty mug. What the hell would college have been like without drinking 98% of the entire time I was there? No kegs? No ice luges? I might as well have cut my d*ck off too....because I wasn't really going to get laid sober. Concerts without booze? Yah right. I enjoy the 16 beers I put back before blacking out to a nice concert. The beach? The god damn beach!!!!!!!!!! A hot summer day, ice cold Bud Lights.....horse shoes???????? Oh my friggin; God. Beer pretty much makes the world go 'round. I love you beer, don't ever leave me. And screw you Bacardi, you piece of crap.

Can anyone explain to me what the hell that mutant in the photo is doing? I googled beers at the beach, and Joe Dirt somehow popped out of the woodwork. Wow....what a pervert.

I Just Completed a Weds - Sunday Bend-ah

Seriously, I have been absolutely cocked since Wednesday....and completed my 5 day America's Hometown tour by smashing my cell phone into pieces last night after my fat fingers probably drunk dialed some girl that didn't want to talk to me anyway. That being said, you're all a bunch of gays.

Bacardi and Diet Cola......They Get the Job Done

So what if it was Wacky Wednesday and I decided to get absolutely cocked last night? Of course I played a little Drinko, put in my Kanye West "College Dropout" CD, and just let my hair down. I had an appetite for destruction, and I just felt like blacking out. So I chugged Bacardi and Diet Cola....Diet Pepsi for all you attention whores out there. The result? I woke up ass naked in my bed not even having a god damn clue what bars my current tour took me to last night. I obviously didn't hook up with any chicks, but I'm sure I told at least 4 girls that I would eat their asses last night. I vaguely remember hitting the dance floor....where I attempted to just grind dumpers and try and get a little Pokey Reese in the mix.

I'm so friggin' hungover right now that I could puke. Going to the gym was an awful idea, but I'd like to put everyone on notice. I'm down to 191 pounds, and if you think I'm stopping here...you're dead wrong. You're all going to wash your friggin' drawers on my eight minute abs. Ah, who am I kidding, I'm just gonna be a chubby kid until you put the final nail in my Coach Coffin. I hope you all choke on your lunches.

Double, Double Your Refreshment

Can we stop and take a look at the photo that was first on the Google list when I typed in "Pub Crawl" to the search engine. I mean look at these fanooks. You've got to be $hitting me. The best Google could do was a bunch of sally's on a sailboat???? Wow....I hope Google's stock tanks this week and there are employees doing 50 story plunges.

Moving on...actually....I have to end this post because I am still horrified at the sight of these sea men. I guess these guys know how to party.

I'm a Simple Man

Nothing too exciting in this post. I just wanted to let everyone know that I plan on drinking about 23 of these today. That's all.

It's sooo good when it hits your lips.