Friday, August 28, 2009

Dolphins vs. Bucs game diary (08/27/09)


(This is the Dolphin diary I kept running during last night’s game at Tampa Bay. All the times are in mountain standard, so try and not get confused.)

PREGAME
5:57 p.m. Getting juiced on Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” Sorry, unnatural supplements are needed to get pumped up for any preseason game featuring Tampa Bay.

6:00 Fox coverage begins. (And let me tell you, it’s no movie, there’s no Mekhi Phifer.)

6:01 Not sure what silly techno-punk song is playing over these opening highlights, but it’s sure to excite that large niche who loves both football and raves.

6:02 Joe Buck and Troy Aikman are tonight’s hosts. They’re going to be gold, I can feel it.

6:03 Aikman suggests, twice already, the Dolphins were better last year because Chad Pennington (a.k.a CP10) “quit beating himself.” Not going to touch that one.

6:05 Pam Oliver talks to first year head coach Raheem Morris; he’s 32 and used to be the cornerbacks coach. “This is the first year that it’s his first year,” Joe Buck reminds us. Oliver jabs Morris about refusing to name a starting QB.

6:07 Buck: “Um, we’ll just talk about the other stuff later…. We’re out of time.” Yup, time for kickoff.

1st QUARTER
6:08 Byron Leftwich completes the first pass of the game for seven yards. I thought he still played for Marshall.

6:10 Tony Sparano get’s his first camera coverage. He looks like Godzilla after ransacking the Art Deco District of Miami Beach.

Aikman again rambles on about CP10 not beating himself.

6:11 Leftwich looks great so far. And his game is decent too.

6:14 Dolphins pull a Leon Lett. Patrick Cobbs blocks a punt (the kid does everything), Charlie Anderson tries to field it around the line of scrimmage, but he doesn’t even come close to catching it and the Buccaneers recover the ball and a fresh set of downs. Aikman won’t say it, but the Dolphins are beating themselves here.

6:15 Buck describes Leftwich’s incomplete pass over the middle as “too high and too hard for Kellen Winslow.” Bullshit, that boy is a soldier.

6:16 Cadillac Williams gets through to the secondary for a 19 yard run and a Bucs first down. Dolphins defense is asleep.

6:19 First and goal at the five yard line; the Dolphins defense needs a big play.

Kendall Langford strips Leftwich! The Bucs recover, but for a loss of twelve.

6:20 Third and Goal, Leftwich spends an eternity in the pocket looking for a receiver, but Sean Smith successfully defends his man. They have to settle for a field goal.

6:21 3 – 0 Bucs.

6:23 Back from commercials and boy did those Bud Lights look good. Fox treats us to a recap of the Dolphins remarkable 2008 season (sweet!). And finishes with the highlights from the despicable playoff game against Baltimore (boo!).

6:25 After a first down sack, Joe Buck describes CP10 as “wrapped up in the arms of Jimmy Wilkerson.”

6:26 Brian Hartline makes a great 38-yard third down catch, but the refs flag him for offensive interference. You know you want to say it Aikman, the Dolphins are beating themselves.

6:28 Bad news: we’re punting. Good news: more commercials!

6:31 Aikman “Leftwich has never felt this healthy going into a season.” Without hesitation, Buck, “..and on his back and rolling around is Leftwich.”

6:31 “It’s Thursday, and it’s third and nine.” Joe Buck sure is informative.

6:34 Bucs convert two third downs in a row. Leftwich threads needles when it counts and the Dolphins secondary looks powerless to stop him.

6:37 Crowder makes a great open-field tackle, finally forcing the Bucs to attempt another field goal.

Total Yards - Bucs: 115, Dolphins: 13.

2nd QUARTER
6:40 Field goal is good, 6-0 Buccaneers.

6:42 Buck calling the kickoff return, “…and Ginn runs into his own blocker before going out of bounds.” Yeah, that pretty much sums up Ginn’s career so far.

6:47 The Dolphins punt. Again. They have more punt blocks than first downs so far tonight.

6:48 Buck and Aikman are all over the Michael Vick update. Apparently he’s back in the league.

6:51 A good defensive series for the Fins as the Bucs go three and out.

6:52 Devone Bess catches the punt and immediately runs backward. Anyone else miss Chris Williams?

6:57 The Dolphins came to play the Bucs, but it’s the Tampa Bay Lighting giving them trouble at the moment. The refs suspend play because of severe weather; players head to the locker rooms.

Buck on the delay: “We’re going to make this fun. I mean, you’re going to enjoy it, okay?”

7:02 After about five minutes of watching (which yes, is worse than listening) Aikman and Buck talk, my brain tells me it’s about to explode. I empathize.

7:04 I can’t take another second, I’m switching over to Police Women of Broward County, at least I’m still blogging about South Florida. This blonde cop is super hot, by the way.

7:11 Switching back and forth, Oliver interviews Sparano during the delay. “[We] want to try and eliminate mistakes right now,” he says.

7:12 Buck talks about Bill Parcells for a bit and suggests Coach Sparano wasn’t the “sexy” hire. Clearly, Joe has never seen him rocking a speedo on South Beach.

7:13 Aikman: “Bill Parcells casts a big shadow.” Aikman has thrown Buck an alley-oop there, but Buck refuses to slam it down.

7:27 I’m really, really bored. The delay is stretching over a half-an-hour and the highlight, so far, has been Buck’s improvised commentary. I wish I were joking.

7:28 Oliver interviews Leftwich. He’s likeable and sharp, but he’s entering year seven and has done absolutely nothing in this league.

7:38 The players warm up (again) as Buck and Aikman take us to a commercial. Oh look, they’re selling Plan B. I’m suddenly get the feeling this diary should have aborted an hour ago.

7:41 And we’re back to football! CP10 throws incomplete pass to Hartline and the Fins are forced to punt. Man, was that worth the wait or what?

7:46 Jason Taylor knocks Luke McCown on his ass near the goal line, though he gets off a wobbly pass anyway. Sean Smith and Yeremiah Bell blow the coverage, but get off lightly because the receiver was bobbling it out of bounds.

7:47 First challenge flag of the night. Goodie, another delay!

7:50 After another four minutes of no football, the play stands.

7:51 A penalty before the snap. In the past hour and fifteen minutes, there have literally only been four plays.

7:52 Ernest Graham sheds roughly a plethora of tackles on his way to a huge gain. The Dolphins’ defense is somehow getting worse.

7:55 In reference to drafting Matt Ryan, Aikman says: “hindsight is easy to look at.” Thanks, guy.

7:56 Paul Solai records the Dolphins’ first sack of the game.

7:57 Back-to-back sacks, courtesy of a Nathan Jones outside blitz. Finally, 13 hours into the game, the defense has arrived.

8:01 The Dolphins go three-and-out again. Their offense may finish out the half with only 36 total yards.

8:04 At least the Dolphin-D sucks less.

8:08 Good news: the Bucs are punting! Bad news: the Dolphins are forced to receive. Yup, botch the return and fumble it again. Amazingly enough, the Bucs are unable to recover. This is an evenly matched battle of sheer incompetence, folks.

8:13 Finally, the offense steps up as CP10 connects with Hartline for 17 yards and a first down.

8:14 Davone Bess makes an exceptional catch; unfortunately, he makes it out of bounds.

Aikman: “Pennington floated that one a bit.” Yeah, and Joseph Stalin was kind of a dick.

8:15 Ted Ginn Jr. and his family make a nice grab; that’s two first downs in the same drive and I;m genuinely excited. The 2000 Rams we are not.

8:20 CP10 throws it out of the end zone. Dan Carpenter nails a short field goal with four seconds left in the half.

8:22 Buck laments entering the half: “Sorry for all the talk. It’s what we do.” I don’t even have a joke here.

3rd QUARTER
8:35 Ricky Williams is alive. He picks up eleven yards on two running plays.

8:37 CP10 throws a 55-yard bomb to Hartline. They’ve been on the same page all night. First-and-goal from the five!

8:42 CP10 rolls around forever, getting deeper and deeper into the pocket. Finally, throwing across his body, he finds a wide open Anthony Fasano in the corner of the end zone. Touchdown! All right, Miami.
Carpenter puts it through the uprights and the Dolphins lead 10-6.

8:53 Buck thinks McCown looks better than Leftwich. I think Buck is sniffing glue during commercials.

8:54 Buccaneers opening day QBs since 2004: Brad Johnson, Brian Griese, Chris Simms, and Jeff Garcia (twice). Not exactly Murderer’s Row.

8:58 There’s 7:24 left in the third when Chad Henne gets behind center for the Dolphins. His first pass is incomplete.

8:59 Henne is god at this three-and-out thing too!

9:02 Rookie Josh Freeman takes over for the Bucs at QB. His first pass is incomplete with Smith only inches away from intercepting it.

4th QUARTER
9:11 The Dolphins’ MVP so far is Brandon Fields. When the punter is your only game changer, it’s never a good sign.

9:15 Henne may be the Dolphins’ quarterback of the future, but he’s only the lukewarm backup of the present.

9:18 I was wrong, the MVP so far for the Dolphins is the head referee. He gives us another first down and I secretly hope we can sign him to a one-year contract.

9:21 After three more disastrous plays, the refs bail us out again with a fourth down penalty. You guys are so nice!

9:24Last week’s golden boy, Lex Hilliard, fumbles the ball after an awkward pitch from Henne. Bucs recover.

9:28 Backup LB Erik Walden makes a really impressive shoestring sack on 3rd down.

9:35 Greg Camarillo catches a well thrown pass from Henne on the sideline, and somehow manages to stay in bounds as two cornerbacks whiff on the tackle. Camarillo is one of the slower receivers I can recall, but 40 yards of this 55 yard reception is YAC. It’s a late nominee for Dolphin play-of-the-game.

9:41 Henne lays a golden turd, throwing a terrible interception in the red zone. This game is physically painful. It’s like someone rammed a catheter up my soul.

9:48 Aikman: “Hey Joe, do you have any more of that gum?”

Buck: “That's none of your damn business and I'll thank you to stay out of my personal affairs.”

9:50 Total punts so far: 15.

9:51 Vontae Davis gets away with some pass interfering, but there’s no call and the Bucs turn the ball over on downs. Hey, at least it isn’t a punt.

9:57 Mercifully, there’s only a few minutes left in the game. After what feels like 6 more punts from each side, the Bucs decide to let the clock run out.

10:02 Game over. The Dolphins are 3-0 in the preseason (hooray!), and I’ll never get this four hours of my life back (boo!).

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Michael Beasley deserves a break



1) I live in a college town where weed is smoked more often than cigarettes, so marijuana isn’t a drug that particularly fazes me.

2) I had my share of minor legal troubles when I was 20, so I relate to a man who matures just a little bit too late.

3) I’m a Miami Heat fan, so I want Michael Beasley to enjoy a successful career.

Sure, there are plenty of reasons for me to sympathize with Michael Beasley.

But there are reasons why you should give him a break too.

Common decency. Yes, Beasley only went to college for one year and now he makes more money playing a game than you will ever make at your desk. Get over it.

His fame and his salary don’t make him a bad person and they don’t excuse you when you root for him to stumble.

Empathy. He’s a kid struggling to become a man, and his evolution occurs in the most public of forums. He’s under a tremendous amount of pressure. He’s asked not only to publicly excel at his sport, but to serve flawlessly as a role-model for America’s youth.

What were you asked to do at twenty?

Fairness and facticity, perhaps? Last season, Derrick Rose had great numbers for a rookie point guard. He absolutely deserved the Rookie of the Year distinction. And frankly, both the national sports media and the in-game telecasters treated Rose as the anointed one. He was a phenomenal player destined for greatness and, oh yeah, he-cheated-on-his-SATs-and-publicly-endorses-gangs.

Rose is a talented ball player (as is O.J. Mayo, for that matter)and I honestly don’t know to what extent these allegations should be considered news, but there is an obvious double standard when it comes to both reporting and characterizing these young athletes.

Beasley is supposedly renowned for a “bad attitude” though no one explains why or even bothers to offer up a confirming source. He’s ascribed these vague but exceedingly negative attitudinal qualities for no apparent reason.

Yes, he used marijuana last year at the rookie symposium. His actions were unquestionably wrong. He was breaking the law, certainly not helping his team, and setting a bad example. His reputation (not to mention his conditioning) were likely to suffer. It was a mistake for which he still pays.

Early in the season, Coach Erik Spoelstra called Beasley out for a lack of defensive intensity and subsequently benched him behind a less talented player. He assured Beasley his minutes would return when his defensive game went up a notch.

Beasley lived up to his end of the bargain, but was not given extra minutes until the end of the regular season when Udonis Haslem missed games due to injury. Spoelstra was still reluctant to start Beasley in Haslem’s absence, though, when he did, Beasley’s numbers were exceptional.

Nevertheless, Beasley returned to the bench for the start of the playoffs and the Heat was knocked out in the first round. Did Beasley once complain in interviews or on Twitter? No. He simply did what was asked. In fact, since his one mistake at the rookie symposium, Beasley has seemingly done everything right.

On Monday, Beasley checked himself into a rehabilitation center in Houston. The details are still unfolding, but that hasn’t prevented rampant media speculation and armchair psychiatry.

Beasley is a good kid and I don’t see how anyone can reasonably dispute that.

Perhaps, until the facts are sorted, we can all refrain from indicting him.

Update: It now seems this rehab trip was long in the works. See what happens when we speculate?
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Monday, August 24, 2009

Five lessons we've learned about the 2009 Dolphins after two preseason games

The Miami Dolphins are 2-0 in the preseason for the first time since—um, who gives a shit? They dismantled the Jags a week ago and the dominated the Panthers on Saturday, but it’s perhaps a bit too early to pre-order those Super Bowl tickets.

That isn’t to say we aren’t gaining valuable insight in regards to the talent and character of this team.

So what exactly have we learned?

1) Winning is important to the franchise, regardless of the stakes.

From the Palm Beach Post Dolphins blog:

“It’s important to win,” [Coach] Sparano said at his daily press briefing. “Every time they keep score and every time we get a chance to compete out there, we want to win.”

Sparano speaks of creating and maintain a “culture” of winning. While that may be one of this generation’s most terribly useless sports clichés, the Dolphins are still only 17 games removed from their franchise worst 1-15 season. After winning 10 additional games (and the AFC East) last year, it’s hard to accuse the sophomore coach of preaching banalities.

While the team clearly won’t give away too much in the way of offensive packages or play their first string units too long with the ever-looming risk of injury, it’s nevertheless refreshing to see these Dolphins’ players and coaches so interested in maintaining a winning attitude.

2) Players on the bubble can’t be saved by fan support.

Against the Jaguars, backup receiver Chris Williams returned the ball almost every time on special teams. Not all of his plays were good, but he was the most exciting player on the field for much of the game. On kickoffs returns, he consistently exploded through the first wave of would-be tacklers and generally excelled. Williams’ punt returning was more uneven, but he still made people miss.

Dolphin fans took an immediate liking to this guy. Many thought he’d eventually break one for a touchdown. Alas, he won’t be doing it in aqua and coral.

Williams, along with four other players, was cut early Monday as the Dolphins brought their roster down to 79.

Likewise, fans were excited to see last year’s free agent bust, Ernest Wilford, score a touchdown from the Tight End spot against the Jaguars. This didn’t save him. He had no receptions in game two and was also cut on Monday.

3) Eric Green is a bitch.

Veteran cornerback Eric Green was signed earlier this off-season to a two year contract. He was far from outstanding last season with the Cardinals and, frankly, the acquisition surprised fans and media alike. At the time, however, the Powers That Be couldn’t have foreseen drafting two studly cornerbacks, Sean Smith (outstanding so far) and Vontae Davis. (According to some, Davis has underperformed thus far. Frankly, his penalties in the opener were overblown and I'm in the camp that believes he's still poised to have an outstanding rookie season.)

Green played and practiced worse than both rookies, losing his starting role to Smith, the 61st pick in the Draft, only a few days into camp. Few were surprised when his craptastic outing against Jacksonville sealed his fate.

General Manager Jeff Ireland and Coach Sparano have no trouble correcting their own mistakes. They brought Green in for a rainy-day situation and, thankfully, the sun shines brighter than ever. The franchise did right by Green in cutting him early and allowing him to quickly find another team (and the 49ers did not hesitate in signing him).

And how does Green thank the organization for his early release (not to mention his $3 million in guaranteed money)?

When they told me [about the release] I was almost relieved. Here, they are more laid back, which is what it was like in Arizona. In Miami they almost wouldn't allow you to chew gum in meetings."

You’re a talentless ingrate, Green. Here’s hoping the only gum they sell in San Francisco is that Mint Mojito crap.

4) The Dolphins are stacked at RB.

Even after his first Pro Bowl berth, the questions about Ronnie Brown remain. Will he remain healthy? Is he an elite running back or an above average one? What kind of contract does he deserve? I have no clue. Clearly, he’s at least above average as a starter and perhaps, at best, is a top seven guy in the league.

That said, I think the Dolphins have the best depth at running back in the league. Ricky Williams is an ideal second-string RB, and he looks to be running with much greater confidence than he did last year. Likewise, Patrick Cobbs and Lex Hilliard are both beasts (Hilliard simply couldn’t be brought down and Cobbs was outstanding catching those swing passes). I wish the Dolphins could work in some package with all four of them. Between those four, Ted Ginn Jr.’s theoretical emergence, and whatever Pat White brings to the table, we could see some real fireworks this season.

Ronnie Brown

Sun Sentinel

Ronnie Brown is careful not to let Ricky Williams sneak up behind him.


5) Swine flu is still over-hyped and still annoying.

Jason Allen and Sean Smith do not have swine flu, so let's drop it.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Confessions of a Man–Slut or: Fuck My Life (a Two Act Play) -- Part 2 of 2


ACT II: Bathroom Shenaningans
(If you missed ACT I: Wam’s Birthday, be sure to read it first)

It's three in the afternoon. I still hadn’t heard from Molly.

I entertain several notions:

A) She’s still sleeping (if we had data on the sleeping habits of persons across every profession, strippers would surely be amongst those who slept the latest, right?).

B) She was walking around the streets of Boulder at 2:30 am last night, drunk and dressed in stripper gear, and the police picked her up for solicitation.

C) She was walking around the streets of Boulder at 2:30 am last night, drunk and dressed in stripper gear, and she was abducted, murdered, or eaten by a criminally depraved pervert or an extremely hungry moose.

D) Something happened to her phone.

E) She hates me.

---

I wait. And I wait. If there’s one thing my conscience doesn’t need, it's another dead stripper.

Finally she sends me a text. I'm honestly relieved that she's alive. There's bad news too, though: Apparently she’s moving to Chicago tomorrow.

Fuck. Last night was my one and only shot at stripper poontang.

I contemplate suicide. Nah. I contemplate Taco Bell. Mmm.

And then Molly sends me another text:

“Tonight’s my last night in town, I want to spend it with you.”

I forgive the missing semi-colon and agree to meet at the Sundown Saloon at 8 pm.

That's two hours from now, though, and I already feel like drinking. I go to Bacaro and sit down at the bar in front of my buddy Beeler—a rookie mistake if ever there was one. When Beeler's pouring, you're lucky to get a splash of Red Bull with your glass of vodka.

I leave Bacaro at 8:15, drunk and cheery and, well, drunk.

I finally reach the ‘Downer. Molly sits at a table drinking PBR with her creepy looking male friend Chris (or something). She asked me earlier if it was okay to invite some other friends (I said "of course.") It’s her last night in town, she should do whatever the hell she wants.

Chris-or-something talks but I really don’t listen. I do watch him speak though because I’m pretty sure he has sharpened teeth. Creepy.

Getting back to Molly, she’s different than I recall.

First, her hair is dyed bright pink (her dark roots indicate it has been this way for some time). Maybe it was the poorly lit strip club, maybe it was the liters of booze running through my veins, but I hadn’t noticed any pink last night.

Second, she’s not as hot as I remember. She’s attractive, sure, but on a scale from one to 10, she’s a seven. Not a nine. (Sevens are still well above my threshold, of course.)

Her two demerits are perhaps blessings in disguise. Molly still intrigues me but she’s no longer a perfect creature to be worshiped or feared. She's simply another girl I want to fuck.

As this epiphany manifests, more stragglers join our (once) small group -- and it’s obvious all these new guys at the table know her only through the strip club.

Before I realize it, there are almost a dozen horny douches surrounding us and I feel like a contestant on Who Wants to Bang a Stripper?. Molly is used to this sort of situation; she takes turns talking to and accepting drinks from each of her desperate suitors.

After about an hour of playing “musical dicks,” I’ve had enough. Besides, the odds of her being on my lap when the music stops are no longer spectacular.

Mercifully, I find an out. Attic Brad and Wheels, two tertiary friends from my days in the service industry, sip whiskey at a nearby table. I excuse myself from Stripperpalooza and bring a pitcher of beer over to my two buds. Seeking less sausage-filled pastures, the three of us soon leave.

map of Sundown Saloon

Sundown Saloon, Boulder

Just in case you're confused, I made you a map.



By midnight, we are retardedly drunk and heading into the Pearl Street Pub. It’s a brash, annoying bar, but they serve food until the wee hours of the morning. We sip on our beers and Wheels mocks my stripper-naïveté as the annoyingly slow line cook prepares our sandwiches.

Molly arrives as the food is being delivered (her sausage entourage nowhere to be seen). I hit the bar for a fresh round of beers to go with our food and by the time I’ve returned three quarters of my cheese-steak is already gone. Molly licks her fingers with a nervous enthusiasm, as if to say she’s sorry but she can’t afford her own meal. I wonder what she did with the three dollars I stuffed in her panties on Saturday, but decide against asking aloud. “That,” I say instead, “was very uncool.”

Her response: “I was hungry, sorry. Let’s go dance and make-out.” Her apology is inexplicably satisfying.

My disdain for dancing in public is overshadowed by my vow to never disappoint strippers that hope to make out with me. Some crappy bar band plays “Mustang Sally” and I flail around like Janet Reno on ecstasy. Molly doesn’t seem to mind.


(this version of "Mustang Sally" is only slightly worse than the one we danced to)

The song ends and I prop her tiny frame up onto the bar. She shoves her tongue so far down my throat I think maybe she’s looking for the rest of that cheese-steak. We make-out for two or three minutes and I keep telling myself, she doesn’t taste like stale beer and cigarettes, she tastes like glorious wonderful stripper! I slowly slide my right hand up her thigh and beneath her cute yellow sundress. I reach her panties, half expecting to find my singles from last night.

I’m about three seconds from taking a finger hike down into Victory Canyon when Molly pulls back and says, “Slow down. I’m not drunk enough to cheat on my boyfriend back in Chicago.”

God damn it.

Let’s get something straight. I have absolutely no reservations about banging chicks with boyfriends. In fact, there’s a distinct upside (which I won’t get into now). But she should have either 1) opted against jamming her tongue down my throat or 2) never brought him up at all.

My drunken logic tells me she’s more interested in playing with my mind than she is in playing with my cock, so I leave her at the bar (well, on the bar) and seek out my friends in the other room.

On my way back there, I literally run into this plain looking blond woman who is approaching forty.

I’m already in full-blown drunken-horny-hammered mode and I have no reservations about getting straight to the point. The following is an exact transcript of our short conversation.

Approaching Forty: “Hi. I like tall guys.”
Me: “I like fucking in bathrooms.”
Approaching Forty: “Hmm.”
Me: “…”
Approaching Forty: “Do you have any condoms?”
Me: “Nope.”
Approaching Forty: “I have some in my purse. It’s with my date at the front of the bar.”
Me: “Get them.”

Approaching Forty heads to the front to get some condoms. I smile. Drunken reasoning: If you can’t fuck the prom queen, you might as well fuck the lunch lady.

She reappears with her purse. I whisk her to the very back of the bar, toward the bathrooms. As we pass my friends I yell, “Hey Wheels, watch this!” and begin giggling uncontrollably.

I take her into the Men’s room (which was surprisingly clean in retrospect). I want to set her on the sink and fuck her, but she'd rather do it in the handicapped stall. That works too I guess.

Inside the stall I pull down her shorts and panties. She grabs the condom from her purse (a condom, actually; she has enough in there to safely satisfy the entire Roman legion) and rips open the package.

I slide the condom on my dick but something isn't kosher. Shit. It’s one of those free condoms they give out in urban bars. Invariably, they're cheaply made and uncomfortably small. And I’m not being immodest here -- it's not like I'm making my sandwich with six pounds of Genoa salami. These are crappy condoms designed for people with micro-junk.

I keep it on and fuck her from behind anyway, but this thing just barely fits (and I feel like it’s cutting of some circulation). My effort is truly uninspired.

As men wander in and out of the bathroom to piss in the urinals, they clearly see my head above the handicapped stall and our bodies through the cracks in the door. It's honestly all a bit awkward. Whiskey-brain tells me it's a good idea to make conversation with these guys (or at them, as it were); it might put both them and myself at ease.

Various dudes go to and from the urinals as I’m fucking this old woman, and I've decided to chat them up.

Guy number one walks in. “Hey bro, what’s going on?” No response.

Guy number two enters. “Hey man, you used to work at Catacombs, right?” No response.

Numbers one and two wash their hands. “Don’t worry guys; I’m fucking a girl in here, not another dude.” They break into laughter and leave.

After about seven minutes of fucking, this extra-small condom is really irritating me. I pull my dick out, rip off the condom and throw it into the toilet. Approaching Forty barely notices I've stopped.

"Blow me," I say. She obliges but only sucks me off for about 45 seconds before stopping. Apparently the condom left a gross tasting residue on my penis. Whatever.

I leave her in the stall and get another drink. As I exit the bathroom, the ten or so patrons within a 15-foot radius of the door burst into laughter and faux cheer. I'm hammered enough to think it's all hilarious.

Wheels and Attic Brad have a beer waiting for me when I get back to the table. I rehash the bathroom details and we all laugh about it for another fifteen minutes. Eventually, Approaching Forty comes back around and gives me her number before leaving with her boyfriend. I’m drinking Jameson on the rocks now. Sometime later, Molly reenters the picture. Unfortunately, her sausage entourage has nearly tripled.

Molly apologizes for acting “weird” earlier and we talk awhile about movies and music. She has good taste, which is cool, but at this point I’m only interested in her vagina. We make out once or twice more and she even inquires about sleeping at my place. As exciting as that sounds, I can’t seem to convince her that it’s “bed” time. The bars are closing, but she wants to keep drinking with her friends. I’m not about to let the sausages party at my house. And telling Molly this makes her a bit whiny.

Fuck it. Maybe there was a 40% chance I would fuck her after all of that, but I’ll be damned if I was going to play video games in my living room while the stripper fucks two other dudes on my bed. As much as I wanted to cross this one off the bucket list, I wasn’t going to be humiliated like that.

So I wandered off. And then I called Approaching Forty. She met in front of the bar and drove us back to my apartment (drunk driving is so cool, kids). Her clothes were soaking wet and caked in sand. She must have spent the hour or two we were apart at the beach—which is interesting considering we live in a landlocked state.

The two of us get to my room, I find some legitimate condoms, and we engage in fairly vanilla drunken bar-skank sex (my black-out drunk modus operandi typically consists of fucking the girl doggy style while trying hard not to pass out). We bang for 20 minutes. I’m amazed I can still keep hard, but I know I’m way too drunk to ever get off—my sour cream will not be topping her seventy-nine cent taco tonight. Bored now, I take off the condom and throw it to the ground in disgust. “I’m going to sleep,” I announce. She's altogether indifferent.

Fast-forward to this morning. I wake up and am delighted to see that Approaching Forty is already gone. Strangely enough, she left her shirt and her slutty pink bra behind. My brain is still operating at a drunken and diminished capacity, but I still wonder how she made an inconspicuous exit if she was naked from the waist up.

Maybe she had a second shirt hidden in her purse. Maybe her chest is so hairy it looks like a sweater. I don’t know.

Shit. I can’t find last night’s condom. I know it's on my floor around here somewhere.

Fuck my life.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Weekly SoFla Sports Update (08/14/09)

I have neither the worth ethic nor the inclination for daily sports related posts, especially considering the majority of my teams are presently in their off-seasons.

Nevertheless, as the Marlins surge into both the Division and Wild Card races and as the Dolphins prepare for their first preseason game, there is much to be said. Even the Heat, who have been quiet for months, are finally making moves (well, one move at least).

The natural compromise is a weekly sports roundup.


Florida Marlins
Thanks to their "incredible" offensive consistency (10 consecutive games with 10 or more hits), the Marlins find themselves only three games behind the Colorado Rockies in the National League Wild Card race.

As fate would have it, those red-hot Rockies begin a three game series at Land Shark Stadium tonight. Probable starters are Jason Hammel (7-6) and Josh Johnson (11-2). Johnson hasn’t lost in over a month.

Yeah, I’d say these next few games are important.

Other Marlins news:
Anibel Sanchez, on the DL since June 4th, looked good in his first AA rehab start.
And we have an update on the construction of Marlins Stadium: One day down, 449 more to go.

Marlins links:
FishStripes
Marlins @ Miami Herald
Marlins @ Sun-Sentinel


Miami Dolphins
Two weeks of training camp are in the books and the Dolphins are 72 hours from their preseason opener against the Jaguars.

What have we learned thus far?

1) Omar Kelly’s up-to-date depth chart shows us nothing too outlandish.

You’ll notice the Dolphins’ only rookie starter, as of now, is second rounder Sean Smith (61st overall). This is no slight against first round pick Vontae Davis (25th overall), who still sits behind Will Allen at LCB on the charts. Allen is perhaps the most talented veteran member of the Dolphins’ secondary; he had the most interceptions and the most passes deflected last season behind the recently departed Andre’ Goodman. Smith is assigned to a very weak right-side, with an unproven (at least as a Dolphin) Eric Green and an uneven (at best) Jason Allen. All that considered, I wouldn’t be surprised if Davis is starting ahead of Allen (and opposite of Smith) by week four of the regular season.

stellastarr* album covers

Mike Stocker, Sun-Sentinel / May 1, 2009

Head Coach Tony Sparano sifts through his pockets for matches, hoping to light rookie CB Sean Smith's farts.



In only a few months (and mostly by way of the draft), their secondary unit has become exponentially more talented and so much faster. On paper, it looks great. And so far in training camp, they have outshined the quarterbacks and wide-receiver corps. Monday, however, is their first real test. It’ll be interesting to see how the three rooks (Davis, Smith, and Chris Clemons) fare against an unfamiliar offense.

2) Jason Taylor isn’t just back, he’s back. So much so that Ethan J. Skolnick is predicting a 10 to 12 sacks from him this season. How wonderful that would be, after trading him for a second round pick and resigning him for free a year later.

3) Pat White didn’t throw well in the first week of camp, but that’s no reason to worry. I’d be truly surprised if he takes five snaps from a conventional formation all season but he can still be an effective weapon. It might be bad form using a second round pick on a third string quarterback, but he isn’t just any third stringer. When the Dolphins go to the Wildcat (or the WildPat, as some now like to call it), White will make plays and he will make defensive coordinators plan for his presence.

And he looked better this week. "Pat's been getting better and better," says Tony Sparano. Is he ever going to be the starter? Probably not, but Chad Pennington won’t play forever and Chad Henne, with as much potential as he’s shown, is as unproven as anyone.

4) The Dolphins look to be improving.

Yeah, it is only training camp, even the Lions fans are chipper—but I think the Dolphins are legitimately better than they were last year. Certainly, with a healthy Tom Brady and with the additions of Terrell Owens and Matt Sanchez, the AFC East becomes only more competitive, but I think the Dolphins have a very good shot and reclaiming the division title.

I’ll wait a few weeks to make any regular season predictions, but if you’re a Dolphins fan, you have to be enthusiastically optimistic right now.

Dolphins links:
Ethan J. Skolnick @ Sun-Sentinel
Armando Salguero @ Miami Herald
The Phinsider

Miami Heat
Dwyane Wade has yet to resign, and no one expects him to any time soon, but that’s no cause for panic. It would be stupid for him to sign this quickly, but I’d bet a large chunk of change that he continues to play for the Miami Heat through the 2010-2011 season.

This Heat off-season has been historically slow, but that’s a deliberate movie by Pat Riley in hopes of landing an additional marquee free agent next summer.

Today, however, there were finally signs of life. Quentin Richardson, who has been dealt to everyone but the Washington Generals this summer, was traded from the Minnesota Timberwolves to the Heat in exchange for Mark Blount’s expiring corpse contract.

Skolnick reports the Heat are the only team so far this summer to introduce Q-Rich to the media, so there’s a pretty good chance he’s here for awhile.

I like this move. It gives the Heat a semi-legitimate scoring threat at the perimeter when Wade is on the bench and Michael Beasley is posting-up. Even if it doesn’t work out, the Heat lost only their fourth string center and their cap space is still entirely intact for next year.

Also, Beasley is cool; follow him on Twitter.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Confessions of a Man–Slut or: Fuck My Life (a Two Act Play)

ACT I: Wam’s Birthday

08/09/99 - Last night, the crew went out and celebrated Wam’s birthday. Since his third favorite activity in the world is seeing day boobies, we made a point to hit Nitro before dark.

The awesomeness was threefold.

1) The working ladies were surprisingly slightly above average (considering they were the daytime shift and probably not the “A+” squad).
2) The club has no cover charge or drink minimum during the day.
3) All drinks were half priced before 9 pm (sure, the drinks are normally so expensive that you aren’t saving much money even when the prices are halved, but it’s still kind of cool).

Our group pounded shots and threw singles on to the stage in the highest of spirits.

I took a particular liking to one of the girls. “Molly” is this uber-cool and very cute young lady who immediately grabbed my attention when she came out stripping to “Ava Adore.” This is one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands, and never before had I listened to it with perky nipples bouncing off my face.



After her set, she sat down next to me and we conversed for a good half-an-hour. Eventually, it was time to move on, but not before getting Molly’s real name and phone number. She wanted to hang out after work and told me to call her around 2:30 am. I was smitten with this, as I hadn’t bought her any drinks or paid for any lap dances. This allowed me to assume that her interest in me was genuine and not financially motivated.

Our crew went from bar to bar, slowly dwindling as one of us would get thrown out or silently stumble home.

Eventually only Wam, Alexis, and I are left standing. Alexis and I have hooked up before, but she is just a friend. Friend, perhaps, is even too strong a word. She constantly cock-blocks me when we’re out together. Her efforts are intentional and stem from some raging insecurities, I guess. I usually tolerate her annoyingly childish behavior because she so often buys all my food and drinks and because she has gigantic cans. Her goal this evening was to get me to forget about the stripper I had fallen for only a few hours ago and, sadly, she was mostly successful.

At 2 am, I’m chilling with Alexis at my apartment (she’s letting me play with her knockers or whatever, but her only motivation is preventing me from banging the stripper). Things start to fade to black around this time. I fall asleep with my head resting on her boobs.

This morning I wake up, stumble into the bathroom to pee, and then it hits me.
“FFFUUUUUUU!!!” I yell, pounding my fist against the wall. The realization that I didn’t capitalize on my golden stripper opportunity has me so upset it’s even affecting the aim of my stream. After cleaning the pee of off the floor and toilet, I come back out to the living room to examine my phone.

Apparently, we conversed a bit before I passed out on the devil’s bosom. She texts me after work, asking if I still want her to come over (it should be noted: THIS NEVER HAPPENS TO ME, I am not the guy who brings the strippers home from the strip club, I am the other guy, the one who buys her drinks all night and watches her go home with some douchebag instead).

My response is immediate, emphatic, and drunkenly misspelled. At 2:36 am, I tell her she should still come over and give her the cross streets for my apartment building. That’s apparently when I fell asleep.

After that, my phone shows five missed phone calls and six increasingly annoyed text messages:

“Cool. On my way.”
“I’m at the corner of Broadway and Maxwell, where do I go now?”
“Heh. You alive?”
“Where you at?”
“WHERE ARE YOU?”
“Goddammit.”

corner of Broadway and Maxwell

intersection of Broadway and Maxwell

The last known whereabouts of "Molly." They say if you inhale there at 2:30 am, you can still catch the faintest aroma of stripper lotion.



Yup, I fucking passed out last night. And I stood up the cool/cute stripper on her way over to my apartment at three in the morning.

And now she won’t answer my calls.

Fuck my life.

Look for ACT II: Bathroom Shenanigans tomorrow.