One of the main goals of today's post is to make all the IU grads who didn't come back for Homecoming more jealous than Purdue grads are of people with non-farming jobs. Hence, I will recap Friday night, Saturday during the day, and Saturday night in meticulous fashion. (I apologize in advance to those non-IU GMYH readers, but maybe you should have gone to IU.)
Friday Night
At approximately 6:03pm Eastern on Friday, my lovely wife Jesterio the Magnificent (light magic and card tricks at half the price of a regular magician), my half-insane dog Harley "Silent Puma" LeMar (note: "puma" in this instance is pronounced like Principal Skinner pronounces it, "pyuma"), and Holt "Give 'Em Hell" Hedrick headed out of Dayton t
o Bloomington, with hopes of arriving before the fortnight. We piled into my pimped out '91 Accord, Rhonda, and thanks to Holt's XM radio, we listened to the White Sox sweep the Red Sox with a "what, you think I sold 'em all?" win at Fenway, thus giving a massive FU to all the "experts" who predicted the Red Sox would win. It was a great start to a great weekend.Upon our arrival in B-Town, we headed to my dad's new condo down there, which is currently completely empty, as he is trying to rent it out for a few years before he retires to it. Anyway, we plopped down our air mattresses and left the dog with my dad (who was also down for the game) while we headed out to the greatest bar on Earth, Nick's. By the time we got there it was too late for us to get a table to play Sink the Bis', but we had a good time anyway. A couple of Holt's buddies showed up and the 3 of them proceeded to do shots like they were the Bush twins.
Jester and I headed over to Kilroy's, the bar I spent the most time in as an undergrad. Walking out of Nick's, I saw none other than Todd "The Governor" Gard. We exchanged pleasantries and wished each other a happy birthday in a couple weeks (we're both Oct. 29 studs). Jessie and I continued to Fratroy's, where we were going to meet "Pistol" Chris Stoll and Mike "Manderson" Anderson. It was Pi Kapp central in there, with about 25-30 alumni getting ripped like the old days. The best part was that they had planted themselves in the area to the left when you walk in the front door. This strategy was both prescient and ingenious, not unlike Washington's battle strategy, since it avoided unnecessary carnage by preventing any need to go through the nightly clusterfuck that we all know and love as "The Birth Canal."
As usual when you get 30 frat guys together, it was a drunkfest. Even though I was the oldest damn alum there, people were buying drinks for me, which is always nice. Highlights included everyone standing on the chairs and tables when "Living On a Prayer" came on the jukebox (see the excuse for a photo to the left) and hearing a group of Bengal fans singing the "Who Dey" Bengals fight song. When will people from Cincinnati realize that they have nothing to live for?After a few drinks, Jessie and I headed over to the Bluebird to meet up with Holt and his buddies. Legendary local band Dave & Rae were playing to a packed ho
use (the photo is not great, but yes, that is Rae). 32oz beers were flowing, hot chicks were dancing, and I was watching. My only complaint is that I wasn't there for their version of "Jack & Diane" when Dave says "trill" instead of "thrill." Holt's friends inexplicably left, and then after a few more songs, Jessie, Holt, and I headed next door to get some Rocket's pizza before calling it a night.Saturday Day
I got up at 7:30 in hopes of being at the tailgate fields by 8, since the game started at 11. Of course Jessie and Holt were not as mentally or physically prepared as I was at that point, so we didn't get over there until about 8:45 or 9. Since it was Homecoming, the boys from PKP (who were paired with the lovely, yet predictably and noticeably absent, ladies of Chi Omega) rented out a huge tent in the corporate field, right next to the IU Credit Union. They hired Kilroy's to provide refreshments, since the rule is now that kegs at tailgates can only be served by 3rd parties. While I prefer to pump and pour my own beer, who am I to complain about free beer?
The alumni at the tailgate read like a who's who of guys who used to live in the same fraternity house as me: Jamie "Big Papi" Belanger, JR "Eehoc" Cohee, Kyle Miller "Time," Brian "Drunker Than You Are" Davidson, Nick "LeMar Didn't Know Until Saturday Night That I Have a Third Nipple" McCallum, Robby "DJ No Bose" Lewis, Jason "Kash Money Millionaire" Kashman, Tyler "I Hate Sarcasm" Kalachnik, Ryan "Romper" Room, and Scott "Life Has Finally Made Me a Little Less Cocky" Fankhauser. In addition, there was a plethora of younger alums to provide entertainment such as corn hole and tree climbing. As the music blared and sun broke through the clouds, my daily wish that I was still 21 returned.
Holt, Miller, and their friend Calvin went off to their seats. On their walk over to the game, they saw none other than Johnny Cougar rolling up to Memorial Stadium in his Range Rover. Unfortunately for them, Elaine was not accompanying The Coug. Cohee, Jamie, Jessie, Justin "Little" Hanig, and I later proceeded off to our seats. While we did not see any platinum-selling artists on our way in, we did see some dude that Jessie knows who gave me a free cheeseburger.
The game itself was excellent, with IU pulling away in the 2nd half for a resounding 36-13 win over the Fighting Zooks. In years past, the Hoosiers would have either eked out a close win or
somehow found a way to lose a game like this. But alas, these Hoosiers are not the ones that the rest of the Big Ten has come to know and love. IU QB Blake "Max" Powers has already set IU's single season TD record with 18 in his first 5 games, surpassing none other than Pittsburgh Steelers wunderkind Antwaan Randle El, who tossed 17 in 1999. Redshirt freshman man-child WR James "Taller Than You Are" Hardy continues his quest for Big Ten Freshman of the Year, racking up another 110 yards and 2 TDs. It was nice to see Coach Hoeppner head into the student section to sing the fight song with the students after the victory.After the game, Holt, Jamie, and I headed over to Assembly Hall to take a look at the new scoreboard. As you can see from this picture, they went for subtlety with this one. You put that thing up against Mothra, and I'm betting on the scoreboard. For you Illinois and Purdue fans, I also took a picture of IU's 5 NCAA championship banners, since I know you guys have never seen one.
Saturday Night
For dinner, Jessie, Holt, and I went to Macri's, where we enjoyed some college football and delicious sandwiches. Nothing quite like an Old Chicago sandwich from Macri's on a fall afternoon after an IU victory. Purdue lost at that glorified high school stadium they call Ross-Ade. So now, not only does Purdue's campus stink like a combination of chemicals, failure, burning metal, and women who eat too much pork, but Purdue also has a losing record (2-3, 0-2 in the Big Ten). Why the hell would anyone not wanting to kill themselves ever go there?
But I digress. We went back to my dad's place to freshen up for the evening. Holt and I then went to Ellettsville (for those non-IU people, Ellettsville is the town next to Bloomington), where one of Holt's friends lives. A group of 5 of us went to a local townie dive bar/restaurant ahead of another group of about 7 girlfriends/wives and relatives who were meeting us there. We get to this place, and I shit you not, the bouncer says, "Seven dollars." We all thought he was joking. After all, it's FUCKING ELLETTSVILLE, where $7 buys you a 2BR house. Then some other bouncer/bartender who looked like Bam Bam Bigalow with hair comes up and says, "Yep. Seven dollars. Duke Tomato is playing tonight" ("tomato" of course was pronounced "tomater"). So we had to pay $7 to sit and drink at this place and the band was still well over an hour from playing. Everyone else shows up and they don't get charged because they just say they're eating. This was more annoying than that same homeless guy you walk by every single day on your way to work. Even better, Holt and I left after a beer to go back and pick up Jessie and then go out in B-Town. On my way out, I said to the bouncer, "So I don't suppose there's any possibility of getting that $7 back since the band hasn't started playing." He of course said no, to which I replied, "Well, that was the best $10 beer I've ever had." He mumbled something along the lines of, "Keep walking, asshole." I chose to bite my tongue, since I'm positive he could have shot me with the gun that he keeps in his American-made pick-up truck.
Anywho, Jessie, Holt, and I went to Nick's. We got there in time to wait in line for a half-hour behind some band geeks (who wears a hat that says "Indiana Band Alumni"?) and some drunk
meatheads. Upon our arrival into Nick's, we went to the new part upstairs where it was once again Pi Kapp central. Miller, his fiancé, and Cohee were anxiously awaiting our arrival at a table they snagged in the back corner, which was awesome because it was positioned such that there was very little traffic going by. Since Sink the Bismark calls to me like formula to an infant, I went to the bar and got a bucket and 2 pitchers. Our livers entered the kind bloosdhed only seen by the English at Bannockburn in the year of our Lord 1314. Only plastic cups were available, which meant that the skill level upped itself tremendously. Cohee, Miller, me, Holt, and later Calvin (clockwise) beat the piss out of each other. When it was all said and done, I sure as hell didn't like anyone of them, but I'll be damned if I didn't respect the hell out of each of them.The most shocking and personally disappointing moment of the weekend occurred during our stay at Nick's. Somehow, despite knowing the guy for 7 years, living with the guy for a year, and giving him shit about anything and everything, I had no idea that Nick McCallum had a third nipple. A third fucking nipple! How did this slip past me? 3N, as he will now be called, did a hell of a job keeping this quiet until he was out of shit-giving range. Touché 3N, touché. I almost don't want to give him shit about it. But I will. For the rest of his life.
After Nick's, we sauntered over to the always sweaty Upstairs Pub. Luckily, on the stumble up the stairs, I realized I was too drunk for my previously planned AMF (for those who don't know what an AMF is, it's a blue drink served at Upstairs that has 8 shots in it, and appropriately stands for "Adios Mother Fucker"). Instead, Holt, Cohee, and I nursed a beer each before realizing that LaBamba was a necessity. On the walk to Bamba's, Jessie got a hot dog from the guy who's always outside of Kilroy's, which she followed up with a burrito. Well done, hon. Myself, I got a combo burrito for the first time, but not the last. While inside Bamba's, we saw some dude who had to be the human incarnation of the devil. You'll know him when you see him: shifty eyes, a goatee, cloven hooves, pitchfork. He was a spitting image.
Sunday
We left Bloomington around the time the first round of NFL games started, which meant that I didn't get the pleasure of witnessing the Bears losing to the Browns. However, on the drive back, we made a stop at the McDonald's in Martinsville. Yes, the very same McDonald's where on June 27, 1996, I witnessed the now-famous Lobstress (if you have no idea what I'm talking about, I'll save it for a "classic" post because it's a long story--suffice it to say that I saw a woman with lobster claws for hands).
We got home in time yesterday to see the 2nd 9 innings of the Astros/Braves dogfight. Good Lord, that was a hell of a game: 18 innings, 5 hours and 50 minutes, 42 players used,
120 at-bats, 14 pitchers used, 553 pitches thrown, 3 innings of relief for Roger Clemens, 2 grand slams, 1 walk-off home run. Does anyone else out there equate the Braves to the early '90s always-a-bridesmaid Buffalo Bills? For having won 14 division titles in a row, one World Series title in that span seems pretty pathetic. Then again, my 2 teams have won a total of 2 World Series and have won none during mine or my parents' lifetimes. Regardless, I'm shitting myself over the fact that both of my teams are in their respective LCS.All in all, it was a hell of a weekend. My liver and kidneys have kindly asked me to take it easy this weekend. Kids--so adorable.
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