Nurse the Hate: The Barf Story

Everybody has a good barf story. These stories usually involve things like "Drink N Drown" nights at a college bar, your first experience with ouzo, or grain alcohol. This is not one of those run of the mill tales. My friend Jeff has the all time #1 greatest barf story of all time, and it goes a little like this...

In Erie PA, high school kids go to Peak N Peak to ski on the massive slopes of Western NY. These hills would be openly laughed at in Colorado, but for this region of the country, they're pretty big. (It's flat here, what do you want?) Our high school had something called "the Ski Club", which was a bus that was rented out on Wednesday nights that took kids who payed for lift tickets and gas to the ski resort. A teacher, who in retrospect had saint-like tolerence for asshole 15-17 year olds, was the official chaperone. Within the first two weeks of Ski Club my friend Jeff had been kicked off the bus for smoking weed and/or drinking. He was 15 years old, and very anxious to appeal to the much older and cooler 16 year old guys that seemed very worldly at the time. He also liked getting fucked up, so this was a pretty good club for him. For example, you couldn't hide beers in winter clothes at Yearbook I'll bet.

Now getting kicked off the bus wasn't the end of the line at Ski Club. You had purchased your lift tickets from Peak N Peak, and they didn't give a fuck if you had been kicked out of your school bus. If you had a lift ticket, you could come ski on Ski Club night. Since Jeff and every one of his friends had been kicked off the bus by Week 3, this resulted in them driving up together on Wednesday nights, smoking weed/drinking beer, and listening to AC/DC on the way. Actually, getting booted off the bus might have made "Ski Club" even more fun.

One particular Ski Club night they headed up armed with the secret weapon of all high school parties, Mad Dog 20/20. I assume most of you have had Mad Dog at one time or another. It's a mistake one seldom makes twice. If you haven't enjoyed Mad Dog, imagine Kool Aid making wine with a skull crushing level of alcohol. In the wine trade it's known as "fortified synthetic wine", but to almost everyone else on the planet it's a "cheap buzz". The plan was to enjoy this exotic beverage in addition to the usual beers/weed, and chase girls. What could be better than to enjoy a cup of greasy french fries from the always gourmet "Sugar Shack" snack bar washed down with thick grapey Mad Dog? Yummy!

As the night wore on, a large snow storm moved into the area and began to blanket everything under a thick white coat. A decision was made to stay over at "Colby's" family getaway house. Colby was one of the five super hot and popular girls in the most powerful clique in the grade above Jeff. This was huge. He would not only spend time with these unobtainable girls, but this time would be spent in the completely adult free confines of Colby's family cabin near the resort. It was like if Jennifer Aniston invited you and your friends over in a snow storm. Oh yeah, her friends Megan Fox, Angelina Jolie, and Heidi Klum would be there too. Awesome.

Jeff and four of the older guys climbed into their buddy Rob's Camaro to make the slippery drive to the cabin. AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" blasted at window shattering volume as they made the trip to the Promised Land. Jeff was seated in the middle of the back seat between two other guys. It was about ten minutes into the ride that the combination of marijuana, Stroh's, Mad Dog, and fries began to swirl uncomfortably in his stomach. He knew this feeling. He was going to be sick. And soon.

Jeff tried to get Rob's attention for him to pull the car over so he could get sick outside, but the music was just too loud. Now, what he should have done was thrown up directly onto the floor. It would have been bad. Really bad. But it would have been manageable. However, he decided to try and stop the vomit by placing his hand over his mouth. This proved to be a critical error in judgement. His hand served like a thumb over a garden hose, spraying the back of the heads of the passengers in front of him with dizzying force. The second burst had even more power, vomit reaching the inside of the windshield and side windows while the screams of the victims overtook the screams of AC/DC. The horror...the horror...

The car slid to a stop and everyone but Jeff leaped out like it was full of angry bees. Jeff sat in place, covered in the remnants of french fries and grape Mad Dog. D-Day vets from Omaha Beach would have cringed at the sight. They tried to get the situation as under control as possible with glove box napkins before resuming the drive. They would need much more than a leftover McDonald's napkin to deal with this. It was a total disaster. The snow was falling even harder now, and there was no choice but to head to Colby's house and the clique of Dream Girls.

When they pulled into the driveway, the girls walked outside to greet them only to find their worst nightmare. All of Jeff's "cool" older friends were drenched in his vomit. They had no change of clothes, and were stuck reeking in what should have been their moment of greatest triumph. The pissed off guys conferred with the girls. As Jeff wobbled out of the car, one of the clearly shaken girls said "Let's put him upstairs in the small bedroom. And get a bucket."

Things were never quite the same with Jeff and the Cool Guys and Dream Girls.

Nurse the Hate: Hate the Track

I am going to the track today to lose my ass on the Belmont. I don't know anything about horse racing. I know even less about horses in general. But I will not let those two little inconveniences get in my way today. No Sir. Look, here's the way I see it. My commission sales job has made it almost impossible to support myself in the way in which I have become accustomed. Therefore it is time to make the final step and become a professional gambler. (Or become Art Schliester, but I guess time will tell.)

After doing some recon on line, I have discovered a few facts about this race that are unquestionable. 1) Everybody is getting on Mine That Bird because they love that crazy hillbilly jockey. 2) Everyone think Chocolate Candy is a live dog. 3) No one knows what they are talking about either.

Based on that, I am going to play a Superfecta box of Mine That Bird/Chocolate Candy/Charitable Man/Summer Bird. I will also do an exacta box of Charitable Man/Mine That Bird. With my past history at the track, I will go home a loser. With the exception of one glorious KY Derby (hit the trifecta) and one afternoon at the Dog Track in Daytona (won enough to pay for gas to go home at Spring Break), I always lose. Everyone does. That's why no one goes to the track anymore.

Random Notes: I see that some American Olympic snowboarding woman died mountain climbing in France. People are shocked. Why? Life isn't like a Mountain Dew commercial. Climbing around on high places without ropes is dangerous. That's what you get for being "extreme Dude". Just the other day I was flipping around the channels and saw a program about some guy that was horribly injured doing flips on his motorcycle off of giant dirt mounds. What, this was a surprising end? You tell me you are surprised you fucked your neck up doing back flips on a motorcycle 100 feet in the air? Who didn't see that coming? Let's just say it. There is no bigger waste of time than the X Games. An endless parade of guys do the same basic trick over and over while a mall punk rock soundtrack plays underneath it. That whole thing is to sell soda and shoes. Hate it... Make a bet against the Cardinals on Sunday. Joel Pineiro, the Cards starter, is going to "try his best" to pitch through back spasms because St Louis is out of options. They just put their #2 starter on the 15 day DL, and Pineiro fees like he has to make his start. Maybe take the over on that one too depending on the number... I busted out a 1998 Chateau La Grave a Pomerol last week, and that wine is Very Nice... One of the worst songs anyone can do in karaoke is "Honky Tonk Woman". People think it's really easy because they all sing the first line while they are by themselves in the car. However, when they go for the chorus, hold the kids tightly, because it's not pretty. I almost was reduced to tears when I heard some dude in a backwards ball cap sing that on stage at a Rock Fantasy Camp event I stumbled into last night. Grim.