(This week was our second to last game, so in reality we are just trying to seal the deal that we can win something at the end of the season party. We are striving for best team spirit AND best drinkers. Gotta aim high.)
Our game is on the upper east side – 105th and 2nd ave – at 8:30. So hardcore, Captain, Karaoke (that’s what we call mel now) and I all meet at the bar on 88th first for some much needed pregaming. At this point, we find out that pitchers of coors/miller light are $10 each. Fuck yes. Cheap drunk night. We pound 2 of them down and then cab it over to the game, is that bad?
We arrive at the school, nice and tipsy, and get changed in the pepto-colored girls bathroom. We find out that we are playing the black team, who have made their own shirts that say “slower, fatter, drunker” on the back. This makes me assume that they are decent human beings. I gotta say, they definetly lived up to my usual theory about first assumptions: they are never right. This team of 4 fucktards and a lady was definetly the worst we have played yet. They were mean, angry douche bags who throughout these 3 short games continued to spike the ball directly in our faces and then make one of the most disgusting testosterone growls I have ever had the pleasure of hearing.
And then there was the ref. I’m not sure if she had just never seen a man in shorts before or if she has just never had the honor of reffing one, let alone 4, but boy did she love them. At one point as they were spitting manliness onto our side of the court with no sort of respect or dignity, while simultaneously yelling at each other about how much each of them was sucking (even though they were ahead 13-1) I joked at her, “Huh, looks like they won’t be getting the team spirit award huh?”
She replies, “Well, they did make their own shirts.”
FUCK YOUR ASS ref. Every week they do a “standings” report that they post on the website. Usually ours says, “Had great spirit, even though they lost,” or “Laughed their way through losing” You know, something that explains that we don’t really fucking care but we are just there to have fun and then get drunk.
This week it says “Swept by Boom” as the other teams says “ 3 more until perfection.”
REALLY??!?! Cause last time I checked those words do not reflect an extremely casual league.
Okay okay, I know I am carrying on about the game when I actually have a lot more to tell you all about the actual drinking part. So blah blah blah we suck and got our asses kicked in all three games again. We didn’t even stay around to shake hands with the team, I basically just said “Hope I don’t see you at the bar fuckers” and bolted into a taxi back to the bar. Cause that’s how we do it.
(Omg I almost forgot the most important part of the game! Door showed up! For the first time in 5 weeks. I’ve never really gotten into hard details about door cause I really care less about her, but from the short time we have been on the team, I have gathered that she is a hoe bag who will sleep with anything that tells her that she is kinda pretty, and she will throw anyone and everyone under the bus who attempts to get in her way. I’ve got more juice on her in this next segment)
So everyone comes to the bar except champion and her mantard. Immediately upon entry, the grey team who has been there getting saucy for the last hour approaches us and challenges us to a flip cup game. This is what I am talking about, a team who finally knows what’s up. We set up the tables, grab some pitchers, and get started. This continues on for about an hour or so, in which time we have some interesting love matches flaring up:
- Door and Beanpole – still an interesting prospect although she keeps telling me how creepy he is and that he always says weird things to her that make her uncomfortable. I fight back with “well I think he is really nice, and has really good spirit about our team” that shuts her up and she keeps showing her pink sports bra strap to him for a little while.
- Hardcore and TW – looks like TW from Frederick has a crush on hardcore. How cute. He confessed his love to her via Captain and Karaoke, and of course, without Hardcore’s approval they tell him that he should ask her out on a date, then they reorganize themselves around the table so she will be standing next to him. Then they proceed to tell hardcore that she has to at least make out with him.
We stop flip cup for a while, and head over to the bar to hang out with the other teams. This involves me ordering nachos and shoving my face with them because its 10:45 pm and I haven’t eaten dinner yet. Door dives into the plate and continues to name all of the things about the plate that are high fat even as she is shoving them down her throat. Guacamole, check. “Oh my god, is this fake cheese?!?” Check. “Eww, sour cream, how gross” Check.
At this point I look down to the floor and realize there is a miniature football field carpet on the floor. Honest to god my first reaction to this was to yell “LONG JUMP CONTEST!!!” really loud, and then run back 15 feet, get a sprinting start, and jump as far as I can. You can only imagine the reaction this got. Everyone ate it up and we had a contest. I came in first place for girls. Some guy beat my best by a good 2 feet. That was a fun 5 minutes.
This guy who beat me now challenges us all to another round of flip cup, so we play. I am a bit fuzzy on the details, but I am pretty sure this is when the picture of Karaoke getting a pitcher poured down her throat happened. I guess that means it was a good round?
Hardcore and I make it over to the bar and start talking to this old guy with a dog named jameson. Within 15 seconds we gather that he is a general manager at quality meats, a nyc restaurant owned by smith and wollensky (obviously my favorite restaurant because of their implied plethora of vegetarian options). He asked us what we want to drink. We look at eachother and say “Patron” simultaneously. I am still unclear on whether this was a good decision or not. If you asked me at the time I would have said “HELL YES” and kicked something. If you asked me the next day I would have grunted and sipped some Gatorade. Now, I’m pretty neutral on it.
So of course, we get another shot. Then drink the rest of our pitcher. Then drink another beer. All on this general manager. Its pretty clear that he has an extreme love interest in hardcore. He tells us we are allowed to order anything we want from the bar here, and can come into quality meats anytime we want and eat whatever we want. He is basically begging me to come with hardcore by telling me, in detail, every single thing that I could eat on their menu.
Now during this time that we are at the bar, the rest of our team is filtering out of the bar slowly. TW is the first to leave, and asks hardcore out on his way out. She is not very amused. Then Captain and Karaoke head home. But wait, where is door? Oh there she is coming out of the bathroom with a Karaokes “boyfriend” from the grey team. Normal. Hardcore asks her if she is going home to Hoboken. She says, no, I’m headed back to his place. (the next day she emails hardcore all day about how she was so tired all day, and so glad she had an extra shirt at work, and how she didn’t get his number, and how hopefully beanpole saw her leave with him so he will “get a clue”) get over yourself.
So in the end, its down to me and hardcore, then beanpole hanging out with some townies at the other end of the bar. We decide to leave and take a taxi all the way from 88th to Williamsburg. FML.
Xoxo,
amo
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