2.27.2006

Correction

It has come to my attention that there is some inappropriate sexual content in my previous post. As Dane and I both wish this to be a sexual-innuendo-free zone, I'm going to ask that you read the phrase "drooling on the carpet" as "slobbering on a box" instead.

Drooling on the carpet... god, what was I thinking?

2.26.2006

No Raisin

My God, man! I go away for a weekend back to our hometown of Rocky Mountain House, where everything's gone to hell in a handbasket, and I return to an unupdated blog! I hope there's been a good reason for this. I will accept nothing besides the loss of all FOUR of his limbs. I mean, is watching hockey games for a living difficult? Does it drain one so much physically and mentally that he or she has no choice but to drool on the carpet for the rest of the evening? I'd imagine so, given the horrible post record as of late. What an asshole!


Bryan Adams demands to know:

WHERE IS YOUR GOD NOW?

The power of Corey Hart compels you!

2.22.2006

Meanwhile...


The harsh wind howled past Dane as frozen tears plummeted from his face. "How could my coat leave me?" he wailed out into the darkness. "Where are my pants?" he continued. There was no answer. He continued to march down the snowy alley back to his apartment, wearing only his lame-ass polo shirt.

2.17.2006

The case of the missing jacket

It was Sunday. Superbowl Sunday. I was at BPs. I was drinking a whole bunch. It didn’t help that I already had six beers and a caesar in me before showing up for the big celebration.
My two friends and I grabbed a table right in front of the three big screens. The free food table was just out of arms reach and the bar was two steps away. It was the ideal location.
Being so close to the bar, we were the first table the Coors Light girls visited with a tray of shots.
I don’t remember how many I had. I’m not sure what kinds I drank. I do remember a few tequila and a couple Jager bombs and a creamy girls drink. It was ladies’ choice that time around.
We were watching the game. It started out great. Seattle scored first. It should have been a touchdown. That push-off penalty was crap.
I kept drinking, eating some appetizers and watching the game.
We also had some stimulating conversations. It was all about sports. Good stuff.
The BPs bartender came and sat with us. She even talked sports with us. I love ladies that can talk sports or will sit down and eat wings, play pool and catch the entire NHL playoffs with you.
She was very pleasant.
I then remember buying the North Stars coach a shot. He came over and started drinking with us along with the trainer.
Then I got up for more drinks. When I returned, my seat was snagged, so I sat down at another table with some other people.
The end of the game came around then. The final score sucked. I’m a Seahawks fan.
I wondered around some more and went back to my original seat and that’s where everything gets really fuzzy. The last round of shots were kicking in.
The next thing I remember is waking up at home.
I’m missing my jacket, which is no where to be found.
I’m told I went to a house party after BPs and somehow I just vanished from the party.
I also have a gash on my right forearm.
I’m collecting new information each day. Good old booze.
If anyone knows where my jacket is, please let me know. It’s starting to get cold.
I have a weird flavour beer in my fridge as a reward. No I don't know where it came from.

2.07.2006



Ben
1992 - 2006
I'll miss you, boy