Wardrobe Malfunction (Or So I Thought)

On Saturday, The Gators will face the Seminoles in The Swamp in their last regular season game of the 2009 campaign. A win will allow Florida to accomplish something they never have before. It would be the first time ever that they completed the regular season with no losses or ties. That would be a nice accomplishment to add to Florida’s record book. Unfortunately, because of the fact that FSU (6-5) just barely crossed the threshold for bowl eligibility, this is the least anticipated season finale in my lifetime. ESPN doesn’t agree, however, as they have sent College Gameday to set up camp outside The Swamp. Personally, I feel that there are more competitive match-ups on the docket, namely Miami @ USF. Nonetheless, Corso and co. will be in town, going through the motions of wearing Albert’s head for the world to see. Some might argue that ESPN chose Gainesville because they adore Tebow, and in light of the absence of any real marquee match-ups, they might as well feature the top-ranked (and currently undefeated) defending National Champs. That is all fine and good, but I suspect there is more at work than just that.

Sponsorship.

Earlier this season, Nike unveiled their new line of football gear called Nike Pro Combat. “Ten storied programs” were chosen to wear their “game-changing uniforms.” Taking the template of the Oregon Ducks’ current uniforms, and making slight stylistic tweaks, Phil Knight (Nike CEO) has fashioned uniforms to be worn by the Gators in their home finale. When I first heard the news, I rolled my eyes. Having seen what Phil Knight’s fashion sense can do to the credibility of a football program, I feared the worst. Fortunately, the uniforms created for Florida are not half bad. In-fact, I actually kinda like them. Admittedly, I hated them at first. But, the more I looked them, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this would be a nice change of pace, especially for an SEC school. Although Florida is a bit ahead of the curve, the SEC as a whole is known for wearing boring uniforms in the archaic styles of their 1950′s predecessors. FSU’s helmet design screams “we stab and hurt people (or at least we used to)”, and UF’s helmet design meekly whispers “we remember how to write in cursive…except for those damn ‘Gs’”. It will be nice to see a uniform that is a bit more aggressive, and to that point, progressive in the SEC.

Having ESPN’s Gameday brodcast the game which features two of the ten “Pro Combat” teams is good press. Gameday broadcast from Fort Worth earlier this year. As luck would have it, TCU unveiled their Pro Combat uniforms that day against Utah. The Horned Frogs won 55-28. I guess there is no conspiracy to cry foul about, but I am just not a big fan of promotions like this. “We are the all-powerful Nike. As a show of our magnanimity, we will bestow upon a selected few, garments worn by Zeus himself (when he played back-up tight end on Olympus High’s J.V. squad. He quit football to concentrate solely on baseball. It was a tough decision for him, because he liked football more, but was better at baseball, and thus got more playing time).” Nonetheless, The Gators’ inclusion in this campaign cements their place as one of the elite commercial pillars in college athletics. And I am sure the athletic department will be making a few bucks off this, so that is nice.

As you may remember, in 2007, Nike had a similar marketing campaign wherein Arizona, Florida, Ohio State, and Syracuse were selected to wear prototype uniforms. It worked out better than Nike could have possibly hoped, as both Florida and Ohio State wore those jumpsuits all the way to the Championship Game, with The Gators besting the Buckeyes for their second national title in as many years. Here is to hoping that the Gators’ football counterparts can walk a similar road to repetition.

Thank You For Loving My Son.

Suggs here. I figured that I would write this post on Roby’s birthday, but I’m a couple days late. Whatever. It’s how I live my life. Anyway, Roby said this should be an intro to who I am as a person. Let’s see…I grew up in Rhode Island then moved to Gainesville for college when I was 17. After 4 years at UF, I moved home for 2 years, only to triumphantly return to Gainesville for 3 more years (which is when I met Roby). I now live in gay-ass Merrit Island with my fiancée, and have done so for a year and a half. It’s close enough to Gainesville that I can visit almost bi–weekly, so it’s not all bad. This is not so much an intro to me but as to where I’ve lived my entire life. Whatever, moving on… I like sports, TV, vodka, dogs, reading, and a few selected other things. The teams I follow religiously are the New England Patriots and the Florida Gators. I have two dogs- Chip and Dale, and a cat named Ace. They are all fucking awesome. I have recently become engaged to my boyfriend Mike who is also good friends with Roby. In fact Roby is in the unique position of being “that friend” who would just get fucked if Mike and I ever broke up. He is the best friend of both of us. He will be Mike’s best man in the wedding but Roby’s toast will be all about his friendship with me (if he is sober enough to function at that point). All of that is really boring shit about me that even I don’t care about and is not why I’ve been invited to contribute to this blog…so moving right along…

 

I mentioned earlier that I like vodka. By “like vodka” I mean “like to drink massive quantities of vodka at all times.” And a basic rule of thumb for me is the cheaper the better (exceptions: that red cough syrup UV cherry vodka and Blavod. Roby stole it, so it counts as cheap). Because of my love for vodka, when people ask me to contribute to something it’s to tell a story about the times I have consumed copious amounts of said beverage. I like to think I’m like the less funny female version of Tucker Max. Or at least I drink as much as him. Either way. you’ve already read about spring break ’07 through my eyes, so this time I will tell you the story of Mike’s surprise going away party. It was his last night in town before he left to accept a job at Kennedy Space Center.

 

Mike’s Going Away Party
Occurred: June 2008

I used to think that Mike had four stages of drinking; sober, buzzed, great time, and out of control. I had only seen him black out once and that was on St. Patrick’s Day when we were working at Bennigan’s, so it didn’t really count. He had called me once telling me he had thrown up into a pitcher at a bar and needed a ride, but I didn’t pay too much attention to him, as we were not yet dating. Another time, he had been kicked out of a bar on my birthday for throwing up in the bathroom. Since he was rational enough to point out to the bouncer that he had made it to the bathroom before vomiting, I don’t think that was so bad. He was much worse this night.

It was Mike’s last night in town, so we were going to get a little shitty. I told him that only Roby could hang out and that everyone else had plans, and he believed me because he believes the things that I tell him. Undeterred, he hit the bottle hard when Roby got to our house. It was roughly 5 pm on a Saturday. The three of us were breezing through a handle of shitty vodka and crystal light. This was nothing new. I only drink shitty vodka, and I always buy handles (go big or go home, right?). When the three of us are together, we of us usually drink an entire handle or something close to it. We drank the entire handle in less than 3 hours while watching re-runs of “The Girls Next Door” and some Lifetime movie featuring Donna from 90210. Not that it’s particular exciting but it what do you expect. It wasn’t even dark yet. So at around 8 we head out to Durty Nelly’s. Since Roby’s car is a sweet-ass 1998 Ford Contour, we begged him to drive. He obliged. The only problem was that he was completely retarded at this point. He drove 15 MPH on every back road between our place and Nelly’s as not to “get pinched” by the cops. He’s practically the only licensed driver in my circle of friends without a DUI, so who am I to argue? About 45 minutes later, we arrive at our destination, which was only about 4 miles away.

 

As we were approaching the bar, I saw Dave and Louise in the distance. I wanted him to be surprised by his friends, so Roby and I took him across the street to some shitty bar* that doesn’t have Budweiser products on draft. Look it’s fine to be a beer snob and not enjoy those beers, that doesn’t bother me. But if you’re a bar in America, and you don’t have Bud, you’re a fucking retarded bar and I hope you go out of business. Mike ordered a delirium. If you don’t know what Delirium is, Google it. Suffice it to say, it’s much stronger than beer. After Mike poisoned his belly with the pink elephant, we headed over to Durty Nelly’s.

 

 

*Editor’s note: The “shitty bar” we went to was Stubbie’s, a small beer joint with over 250 beers from around the world. It is great. Suggs is just a hater.

 

Upon arrival, Mike and Roby waste no time and slam a few red headed sluts (Jager is the main ingredient in these. I don’t do Jager.), and some Irish car bombs. I order a shot of vodka with a Budweiser back. God bless America. I’m not halfway done with my beer when I turn around in my seat and see the look in Mike’s eye. I yelled “NOOOO!” and pushed him towards the door, unfortunately, some people were in the way and he never made it to the door. Instead, Mike projectile vomited ALL OVER THE FLOOR, FRONT OF THE BAR, AND FEET of the people in front of the bar. It was absolutely ridiculous. It was the most vomit I have ever seen come out of one human being in my life (that’s including the time Roby drank 6 Sparks and hosed down the Oxford Manor parking lot). They immediately kicked Mike out. Please don’t forget Roby was just as drunk as Mike, he just decided NOT to ruin the night of everyone within vomiting distance. My friends Chris and Kerri were about to enter as we emerged from Durty Nelly’s reeking of erroneousness (and vomit). They assess the situation and Chris helps me get Roby and Mike into the car. They decide that the best cure for Mike’s nausea is Taco Bell.

 

 

After sitting in line at Taco Bell for thirty minutes we finally order. Everyone gives their money and by “everyone” I mean Chris gave me his money, Mike refused to pay, and Roby handed me a clothes hanger. We pulled up to the pickup window and Roby then tried to pay the taco bell drive thru lady with said hanger. Defeated, the woman at the window paid for Roby’s food. Mike was ravenous. He devoured that Cheesy Gordita Crunch like he hadn’t eaten for weeks. I guess that’s what happens when you go Mount St. Helens all over the bar.

 

Within minutes of getting back to my house, and Mike and Roby both passed out cold on my bed. I went into the guest room to see what Bridget, Kendra, and Holly were up to. After all, I had over an hour to kill until Saturday Night Live started. Mike definitely left Gainesville in style.

I Want One

V is for Vodka (and Veronica Mars)

~

Random conversation that epitomizes my life with The Suggs:

Miamichalupa13: does Andrea Zuckerman have an eating disorder?
Suggsy23: sadly no
Miamichalupa13: i always get 90210 confused with saved by the bell: the college years
Miamichalupa13: haha
Suggsy23: but her daughter was on the ep for like 5 secs and someone said “omg is that girl like 30 years old or what?”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Suggsy23: OUCH
Suggsy23: i just walked into a wall
Suggsy23: perhaps i have drank too much tonight
Suggsy23: but i doubt it…

It is a basic rule of writing that you should never give a guest spot in your book to someone who is a better writer than you are. Lucky for you, I don’t give a fuck about rules. My friend The Suggs is going to be a regular contributer to this piece of shit blog, so start warming up the vodka…Well Vodka. I’m gonna let her introduce herself tomorrow, but until then I will leave you with a piece that she wrote following our outrageous trip to Panama City Beach in 2007. . Ladies and gentlemen, The Suggs.

The Events of Tuesday March 13th 6:00am- Wednesday March 14th 6:00am as seen through the eyes of The Suggs.

Tuesday 6am: Roby is standing in a corner of the room looking like the kid at the end of Blair Witch Project. I have no idea what is wrong with him.

6:01 am: Roby opens the patio door and pees outside.

6:03 am: He has now been peeing for 2 straight minutes. I roll over and go back to sleep.

8:00 am: Roby yells something in his sleep from across the room. I think it was “asndasasdknikn”.

8:01 am: I go back to sleep.

10:30 am: I wake up and attempt to wake everyone up for the beach bash. No one wakes up. I am pissed.

10:32 am: Kerri calls and wants to know how the trip is. I tell her it is awesome, and I have never seen anything like it. The beach bash is at 12 and I am excited.

10:34 am: I get dressed and try to wake everybody up.

10:35 am: No one gets up. I am pissed.

10:36 am: I crack my first beer.

10:38 am: I do a beer bong.

10:45 am: I drink more beer.

11:00 am: I try to wake everyone up again. No one gets up.

11:15 am: I fall back asleep.

12:30 pm: I wake up and realize I am a half hour late for the beach bash. I wake everybody up and go outside.

12:31 pm: Mike tries to wake up John. He feels that opening the blinds and jumping on John is the best way to do this.

12:32 pm: John informs Mike that he will fight him at some point today.

12:33 pm: The wait to get in to Sharky’s is at least 90 minutes long. Mike and I pay $5 for bigger cups and cut everyone in line.

12:35 pm: I get a beer and realize I am very sober. I tell Mike there is only one option.

12:36 pm: Three cherry bombs are placed in front of me. I slam them.

12:40 pm: Nikki, Lexy, and Roby arrive.

12:45 pm: I have 9 shots of vodka placed in front of me. I slam the first one. It doesnt go down well. I order a redbull and turn the shots into vodka/red bull shots.

12:46 pm: I slam 2 shots. Lexy slams one.

12:47 pm: Mike slams 2.5 shots. I slam .5 shot.

12:48 pm: I slam the remaining 2 shots.

12:49 pm: I slam several Miller Lites.

12: 50 pm: A random guy spills his drink on me.

12:51 pm: I steal his hat from him.

12:55 pm: I see a guy in a polo shirt. His collar is popped.

12:56 pm: I ask him why. He doesn’t have a response.

12:57 pm: He gets a friend. His collar is popped.

12:59 pm: I take their picture.

1:30 pm: I am standing at the minibar. A random guy walks over. I tell him Roby is gay.

1:32 pm: He moves away from Roby.

1:33 pm: Everyone laughs. Roby tries not to but can’t help himself.

1:45 pm: I tell everybody around me that Roby is gay.

1:50 pm: I convince one guy that gay people should not be allowed at Sharky’s. We try to get Roby removed.

1:51 pm: I am laughing so hard I can barely speak.

2:00 pm: I continue slamming shots at the bar.

2:16 pm: John finally shows up. He has a hangover.

2:17 pm: I tell him that a shot of Johnny Walker Platinum is on the way. John is familiar with this running joke. (John and our other friend Chris, Kerri from later in the story’s brother, are both fans of Johnny Walker. Whenever I am drunk I pretend there is a version known as Platinum. It has been aging since the year 0000 and Jesus is rumored to have touched it.)

2:18 pm: John cheers up and starts drinking.

3:00 pm: The Real World cast shows up. I am not happy as I have not watched the show in years and don’t care. Apparently Brad is now a dirt bike racer. I tell everyone around me that I hate dirt bike racing.

3:14 pm: Roby and Lexy are standing in front of me.

3:15 pm: I realize that they are talking to me.

3:16 pm: I have no idea what they are saying.

3:17 pm: I assume they are saying “tasty tasty” which was there catch phrase for spring break b/c they think they are fergalicious.

3:18 pm: I propose a toast to Spring Break.

3:19 pm: We all take a chug of beer.

3:20 pm: I spit my sip at Lexy and Roby. It sprays all over them. I am dying laughing.

3:21 pm: The MTV camera people are filming it. They are dying laughing.

3:22 pm: I yell “hey, i didn’t sign a waiver!”

3:23 pm: They laugh and shrug their shoulders.

4:00 pm: Kerri Zupofska calls. She has arrived.

4:01 pm: I order more shots from the bar.

4:30 pm: I remember Kerri is outside Sharky’s. I find Mike and go meet Kerri.

4:32 pm: The three of us go to the room and continue getting anihilated.

5:00 pm: Nikki and Lexy return from Sharky’s.

5:05 pm: Me, Mike, Kerri, Nikki, and Lexy go to the Big Kahuna for lunch.

5:10 pm: I eat Lexy’s entire bag of cheetos. She is pissed. I do not understand why.

5:11 pm: I inform her that they were in fact my cheetos but since she’s so upset about it I will order her, her own bag of cheetos.

5:20 pm: Nikki buys us all a shot. I shudder.

5:21 pm: Nikki spies a couple in the back. She gets them a shot.

5:22 pm: My blackout is emminent at this point. Things are already at the point where I look around and am confused.

6:00 pm: Mike and I get our check. It has no prices on it but they tell us it is $48. Mike is paying but I feel that they are ripping him off. I demand an itemized bill.

6:01 pm: Three bartenders begin arguing with me that I am wrong.

6:02 pm: They tell me that my tab is in fact $22.

6:03 pm: They refuse to take Mike’s credit card. Kerri pays the check.

6:04 pm: I leave the Big Kahuna. I begin screaming as I cross the street.

6:07 pm: I pass out in my bed.

9:30 pm: Roby, John, Lexy, Kerri and I go to Wendy’s. It is the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten. I have no idea why.

9:45 pm: John asks if this is one of those places where you leave your trash on the table and they throw it away for you.

9:46 pm: After looking around the room I inform him that it is in fact not one of those places. It appears to be a place where people left their trash on the tables and no one ever came to throw it away.

11:00 pm: Roby develops a terrible hangover.

1:00 am: Roby has determined that his hangover is causing him to see hardcore porn in his brain. He is whining. I tell him to be glad it is regular porn and not a gay porn starring Ice-T slamming Ice Cube.

1:02 am: The only porn Roby can see now is Ice-T slamming Ice Cube.

2:00 am: Roby convinces John to drive him to the ER

2:01 am: I convince John not to drive Roby to the ER b/c he has a hangover.

3:00 am: Roby calls poison control.

3:02 am: Poison control bursts out laughing. They tell Roby to man up, but they sugar coat it.

4:00 am: Roby calls poison control, again.

6:00 am: Poison control calls Roby back, probably to laugh at him some more.

There you have it. More Suggs is on the way.

My First Word Was "Ball" (And Have Not Stopped Talking About Balls Since)

~

I have been a huge sports fan since even before I can remember. The first words out of my mouth was “ball.” I don’t remember saying it, yet my mother is constantly reminding me. Practically every picture of me as a kid is of me kicking/thorwing/dunking a ball. I loved sports, and in return, sports have been good to me.

The Miami Dolphins have been the most steady NFL franchises since their birth in ’66. In my life, they were always good, but never great, but that was good enough for me. There was Shula, there was Marino, and there was always hope.

The Miami Heat came to town in 1988. I was immediately hooked. That’s what happens when your mom’s boss has season tickets, yet doesn’t really like basketball. Add Alonzo Mourning, Pat Riley, and you have a team good enough to compete with Michael Jordan in the Eastern Conference Finals. I consider 1998 a win. One Dwyane Wade later, and boom, Championship.

The Florida Panthers wasted little time going from expansion team to Finals runner up. That was truly the most fun I have had during any playoff run, as I was young enough to lose myself in it completely.

The Florida Marlins also jumped straight from expansion team to winners, taking the 1997 World Series in only their fourth year. They won again in 2003, making in two in 10 years. A far cry from the curse of The Bambino, and other such dysfunction.

The Miami Hurricanes, Florida State Seminoles, And Florida Gators, all of whom I have followed at some point in my life, are three dynasties that have controlled the landscape of college and professional football for the better part of three decades. 10  National Titles in 26 years made watching college football in Florida exciting year-in and year-out.

My college years were exciting at UF. Besides the 2 Football Titles, The Gator Basketball team won back-to-back titles. I was living in Title Town.

All told, I have seen 15 championships wins, plus 8 championship game runner-up performances. That’s the whole point, right? Championships.

That’s what I thought.

But recently, during the current run that the Gators Football team is on, I have realized that being the best is not what it is all about. As we speak, Coach Urban Meyer is leading the Gators on an unprecedented run, winning 2 out of the last 3 BCS Championships, and 19 consecutive games. But why is this season not enjoyable? The Gators are the best and everyone expects them to be the best. As expectations mount, appreciation for what they have done dwindles. Any other team would be chomping at the bit to get where the Gators are. Yet, all you hear from ESPN is how they have not produced explosive scores, and instead of cheers from the stands, you hear complaints about the playcalling. Simply winning is no longer good enough. They want perfection. They want title after title. But to me, the best part was getting here.

Do you remember 2006? Do you remember how much it hurt when Auburn beat the Gators on some close/questionable calls in October? Do you remember how loud the Swamp got when Jarvis Moss blocked that field goal to stave off Spurrier’s Gamecocks in November? Do you remember having your friends over for Bowl Selection Sunday in December, fingers crossed to see if the Gators would get a crack at the Buckeyes in January? Do you remember the deflating feeling of watching Ted Ginn Jr.run back the opening kick-off? Do you remember the subsequent rush of watching the underdog Florida Gators smack around, befuddle, and completely dominate the Heisman Trophy winner and the #1 team in the country?

I remember, and it was awesome. It made me want to jump around on University Avenue like a crazy person. Not because you are obligated to do so when you win, but because you feel great and you can’t keep it inside. You felt like you were part of something great. Maybe the voice you lost along with 90,833 of your closest friends made the difference. Maybe that group of 85 players was just the perfect mix of talent and heart to get the job done. Maybe it was both. Instead of demanding another championship, hope that you are lucky to see another, and appreciate that it is still a possibility.

The time has come to appreciate the moment you are living in. Just ask any Cubs fan, this feeling is rare, and championships can be few and far between.

R.I.P. Meeko

‘Tis only the second day of my blogging empire, and I already have sad news to report. Meeko was put down last night after 12 years. His heart was too big, and his lungs were working too hard. The world lost a good dog yesterday. A good dog with stinky breath.

Meeko (1997-2009)

I’ve Never Done This Before (Be Gentle)

~

Ok. Well, I guess that nothing about this first entry matters in any way, shape or form. However, never before has that curbed my desire to hear my own voice.

I would take the time to introduce myself, but it seems unnecessary, as you likely fall into one of three categories:

1. You already know me, but you don’t really care about what I have to say.
2. You already know me, and are only pretending to care about what I have to say.
3. You neither know me, nor care about what I have to say, therefore my name is irrelevant.

Moreover, since I have a long history of not finishing what I start, I imagine that this entry will be the Alpha and Omega of my blogging epic. So, when you think about it, do you really need to know me?

But, since I started this blog to help pass the long hours spent overnight at the hospital, and I happen to be currently sitting at a computer at said hospital, I might as well pass time by introducing myself.

My name is Robert.

That is all you get because I don’t like talking about myself. Ha! That is a lie. The only reason people start blogs is because they love to talk about themselves. In every blogger’s perfect world, he starts each day signing on to find that his page has been viewed a thousand times and each person has left comments rife with adulation. I myself, am constantly bombarded with such adoration, so there is no need for it on this blog.

“Roby, since meeting you, my cancer has subsided.”
“Roby, you are so funny and smart. Please bang every female in my family.”
“Hey Roby, remember that time you gave me a high five? I’m pregnant now.”

See what I mean? This is the life I live.

But now that I have written 200 or so words, I got to wondering why I started this blog in the first place. Although boredom is as good of a reason as any to do anything in life, I feel that this blog could be so much more. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect to recieve a Nobel Prize for the contents of this blog. But If I establish a purpose for maintaining this blog, perhaps it will have more success than my past endeavors (learning guitar…brewing beer…college- I still haven’t given up on brewing beer, I just haven’t had the time lately. Let’s do it Travis). It’s time to establish a direction and mission statement for this blog.

If I learned one thing from high school it is how to brainstorm. (Actually, I got really good at it. So good, in-fact, that I would erase all the numbers and bullets from my outline and turn that in as a finished essay for AP American History. God bless football coach/history teachers.) Since my mind thinks in bullet point form, I will start by making a list of things I like.

1. Sports (and most other things that you can win by possessing superior skill, stamina, or hard- headedness).
2. Beer
3. Sex
4. Top-10 Lists
5. Being an asshole.

Now I will cross reference that list with a list of things that I know a lot about (or at least have the arrogance to pretend that I know a lot about):

1. Sports (and most other things that you can win by possessing superior skill, stamina, or hard-headedness).
2. Beer
3. Sex
4. Top-10 Lists
5. Being an asshole.

That was easy. It seems that it only makes sense to write about sports, beer, sex, and being an asshole, all while composing top-ten lists of things within said topics.

Thus begins my first foray into blogging.

Mission Statement: To ensure that every man, woman, and child with an internet connection knows how awesome I am. And if they disagree with me, fuck ‘em.