Day of Rage IV

So this is a few months late but it's not like we are on top of things around here lately. This year went slightly better than 2014, meaning no bodily harm to any participants. There were three finalists this year, not four. Order of finishers: HL, LVL, M. Everyone agrees that this should be our last D.O.R., though months after the debacle there is talk of a 5 year anniversary edition next year with cask strength Maker's to mark the occasion. WTF? We will see. There are before and after (bottle) photos but Blogger or my laptop are not cooperating today - the first time in over a year when I decide to post here, figures.

Prick points were assigned, trinkets were awarded and a badge of valor was on display straight from Loretto, KY. Then more prick points were awarded throughout the day. Lies are being spread at this very moment that yours truly is odds on favorite for 2015 POY but I can assure you this is a highly disputed farce of shit. The new POY trophy is missing some qualified, overdue names who are more worthy of this title.

Disturbing Trends in Dinner Prickery

So, this past weekend some members the group got the H out of dodge and pub crawled in a new town. There is something profoundly necessary about dealing with Holiday and impending winter related stress by taking one's shit on the road. A good rule is that at least one full day should be devoted to the crawl proper. Find a tasty Bloody Mary and then just go into the afternoon with an open mind. The details...such as those regarding our destination, fade into obscurity. Unnecessary even.

During these adventures, the mind often embraces its creative side. New things are tried, experimentation keeps everyone on their toes. Such was the setting for a Mackey-LVL contest of wills and livers.

The setting was a fine restaurant, where our group initially made reservations but always looking for the quickest way to continue the drinking(of course we started way before, don't judge us Puritan) we found a table in the lounge. Full service of course, or the victory is hollow. Time saved: 25 minutes from the initial reservation. We were victims of our own smug success, since we would have to slam our drinks seated.

To Mackey's initial surprise, I informed the server that we two gentlemen would need whisky shots-in a hurry. He didn't disappoint and those warm bastards arrived right before the salad.

LVL: 1, Mackey Nil. To be fair, I didn't enjoy the contrast in flavor either, but shit it had to be done. Pro-A strong opening move. Con-tasted like pain.

Not to be outdone, Mackey retaliates with a strong counter to the pre-salad bourbon: The mid-meal tequila. Nothing like chilled Patron to make you appreciate the next bite of prime rib or steak. The mouth is alternately confused and then grateful.

Pro-A devastating blow to my dinner morale. Con-sparks profanity in a setting unaccustomed to such prickery. LVL: 1, Mackey: 1. Push.

Final word? Neither of us want to go through that again. It was just pointless once everyone regained the faculty of civilized speech. No, I'll go further and admit it was a terrible idea. In summary, learn from the shitheaded behavior documented here. The lesson is that you should cockpunch your friends with a belt of Wild Turkey AFTER the last bite.

Under the Bridge

This isn’t homage to the RHCP. No, these images were taken at the massive parking area in the Old City underneath the interstate / parkway system. I ride my bicycle throughout town and usually cruise through the lot for a breather or water break away from the street traffic. I do my best to dodge the seas of broken glass but it is practically impossible. On this particular occasion I noticed a higher than usual number of empty bottles and thought I’d do some photo documentation.


I remember the days of going to the bars and frontloading on the way (yes, open containers!) and was just as guilty as these folks who leave behind the sacrificed empties, so I’m not being hypocritical or unrealistic about this situation. I mean, who wants to leave a backseat full of crime evidence should the police get involved. There has to be a better way but looking around the lot I didn’t see the one solution that should be obvious – trash cans. Not a damn one!

Monday Haiku

Man, what a weekend: visitors from Florida(prick shorts trump jorts), old friends reacquainted, Prick of the Year updates, and naturally tons of booze. In a late attempt to summarize the weekend’s happenings without posting the usual occasional Monday Hangover I thought I would quarter-ass it with a few haikus. Please don’t mind the Tuaca L-Ds, Jager, Patron, Jameson’s, KBLWs or Maker’s. We took care of them already. And the keg took a beating. Good times.

Motherfucking shots
The one-two punch of drinking
Wallet and liver

Wait! No hugs from you
I will shake your hand instead
Damn that was ball hand

With short or long pants
Our official uniform
Knoxville in khaki

Six pairs of prick shorts
Yet give us grief for our stuff
And you wear K-Swiss

Cook something good once
Do not repeat for a while
Mackey leads contest

By the pricking of my thumbs...

The balloon is going up. The war against wallet and liver begins in approximately 24 hours.

Charge of the light brigade

Ordinarily, I would be doing a bar review right now...unfortunately, the events of the prior weekend have left such a chilling and lethargic taint that I cannot in good conscience speak of the pros and cons of the joint. Proverbially speaking it was like a hopeless attack against overwhelming odds. It should be criminal to drink that many shots in so short a time.

The only hint I can give you; the only advice I can offer: The bar and lounge at the downtown Knoxville Holiday Inn WILL NOT serve you a complete turkey dinner at 11:30 on a Saturday night.
The bartender was not smiling either.

POY Update

Well well well. Here we are almost through the first quarter of the year season and it looks like Tag Berauscht has all but wrapped up 2 months for the Prick of the Year Contest. It seems that he is hell bent on reclaiming his title from 2007 and is off to a good start. The manual labor he subjected us to last month almost broke my back and knees, but not my spirit (to drink). Now the cockayus lets the entire Ice Bears regular season pass by without arranging a single group outing for us to attend. I cry foul! Hockey games are one of our best outings to drink as a group and shout profane insults for everyone to hear how obscene we are. C'mon man, don't be such a dick - that offense is worth at least 10,000 prick points.