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Bowser
03-27-2009, 10:27 AM
NOTE:What follows is an untimely dispatch from Bowser describing events leading up to the first round win over Akron. As you would expect he is in route to Las Vegas, indulging one of his little basketball fantasies. Again. Don't read this if you are offended by buffonery. Mrs. Bowser

March 18, 2009

Due to SnapCo responsibilities [a deposition in one of the growing number of nuisance lawsuits alleging sexual harassment], I remained in the Portland area. Thirsty, I pulled in the parking lot of a Red Robin near the Rose Garden barely missing the open car door of some guy dressed in red and white. “Rental car. No worry. I got the insurance,” he says.

Nice guy. No surprise there. I recognized the red globular thing on his shirt as the WKU mascot. “Yo Topper, nice shirt. Goin’ in? Buy you a beer?” He nodded and we small talk our way into the lounge. His name is Zeke. Though that cornpone voice can fool you in the beginning, this guy is no dumb ass.

The place is packed and finally two chairs open up at the bar next to guy who looks like a slimmer, buffer Walter Sobchak only with a vest full of merit badges. He’s wearing an Akron Zipper hat and staring straight ahead. “Hey Zippy” He looks at me with some disgust, “You’re sure original. The name’s Ted, moron.” Well, he had me there. Not original at all. So I tell him, despite his snippy demeanor, that his money is no good here and that I’m buying. We find out Ted is a proud alum of Akron’s air rifle team. There is much to the story.

Finally we’re all talking hoops and are several beers into it when out of the blue Ted says he wants some “good calamari and some atmosphere.” He wants a Greek restaurant. Ted is a very serious man.

“Are you into the First Amendment?”

“What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“Zippy, you’re in Oregon where they take the First Amendment very, very seriously.”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with calamari.”

“It doesn’t”

Even though he’s known me for about an hour, Zeke senses mischief and stifles a smile. “Come on Ted, we’re out of towners. Let’s go with the flow, partake of the local hospitality. What could be wrong with that?” Ted nods and off we go to The Acropolis, which is way out on the east side of town.

“This is a long way to go for calamari.”

“Relax, Ted, we’re almost there. You said you wanted atmosphere.”

The Acropolis is a ramshackle place known for cheap food. At first glance, you wouldn’t know that cosmeticlly enhanced freedom of expression is practiced here 24/7 on 3, perhaps 4 stages and the patrons celebrate it with cash during every three dance set.

“What kind of restaurant makes you pay a cover charge?” Ted asked.

Zeke quickly responded, “They don’t do this in Ohio? It’s customary in the best places. Sakes alive son, is this your first trip away from home?” Ted just scowled and Zeke let it drop.

We grabbed a table and ordered two pitchers. Zeke and Ted are settling in while I go to arrange a special bachelor party for Ted who definitely needed it.

“Ted, get your eyes back in their sockets, friend. And sit down!” Zeke had hold of Ted’s belt as Ted was violating every protocol associated with similar bastions of free expression, leaning close to the stage, a dangerous proposition. As luck would have it, an immodestly clad woman approached Ted to escort him to his bachelor party. At least now Zeke and I could relax and work on the pitchers.

Pretty soon Zeke leaned over and said “I’ve done a bad, bad thing.”

“Probably no worse than stuff I’ve done.”

“No, this may be bad.”

“Can’t be that bad.”

“It is.”

“Probably not.”

“Trust me. Trust me on this.”

“Ok, what did you do?”

“Ted, asked for an antacid.”

“So”

“I didn’t give him one.”

“So.”

“I gave him a Viagra . . . ”

“. . . Big deal . . .”

“And before I could stop him, he took two more. . . He chewed them like they were baby aspirin.”

“Zeke, I’m not sure the rental insurance is going to cover this. For chrissakes, what were you thinking? Teddy is already overstimulated.”

Zeke just shrugged, “Guess we’ll find out.”

About an hour later, Ted lumbered back to the table. Time to go. Ted was delirious and obviously not done for the night. At least physically. Zeke and I were a tad tired.

On the ride back, Teddy just wouldn’t shut up. “Zags suck. Toppers suck.” On and on and on. Zeke suggested we drop by an ER since he had counted the hours at more than four. Teddy wouldn’t have any of it. He was the effing king of the world. Then one final demand, he wanted to go pick up tickets for tomorrow’s game from Will Call. I tell him they are likely closed at this hour, but he goes on and on. So I relented.

“Teddy, I forgot there is an all night place near Chinatown. We’ll take you there and wait for you while you get the tickets. Just ask for Darcelle or one of her assistants.” So Ted stumbles into the place. When the door closes, I lay a patch out of the place.

“Aren’t we going to wait for him?”

“No. No we aren’t. He’s in a special place now.”

MJ777
03-27-2009, 10:45 AM
Ridiculously funny!!

hockeyzag
03-27-2009, 10:46 AM
That made my day :clap:

JLGutrocks
03-27-2009, 10:58 AM
The A-crop has talent.


:roll:

Bowser
03-27-2009, 11:03 AM
More BS from you know who. He thought you would want to have this report before tonight's game. Today's voice mail message was unintelligible but was not from any holding facility. Mrs. Bowser

Game Day Report – Akron

I could barely hear the Pope over the thump-thump music at the Acropolis but apparently a ticket for the Akron game was available. Thank God for wives and depositions or I would have been on the road to Vegas.

So two days after St. Paddy’s, I’m headed to Puddletown to meet up with the Pope and his travelling College of Cardinals for his version of some sort of basketball conclave. Outside the Rose Garden, just when my hand is about two inches from the backside of an on-air news babe, my phone rings. It’s the Pope. Interceding again.

“We see you,” he says. First I thought it was the cops or my mom with a sore throat.

“Well I sure as hell don’t see you.”

“Just turn 90 degrees.”

What sort of direction was this?

“Right or left?”

“Right.”

As I turn I see the gang, all of them are holding buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

“What’s with the chicken?”

Well, it didn’t take long to find out and it seemed to have something to do with Husky fans who were milling around. In fact, even the normally sedate GoZags was menacing some poor Dawg with a drumstick, original recipe, while the rest of the gang was yelling out “chickens” and making chicken sounds and doing rooster dances. It was a carnival atmosphere. I was still ignoring text messages from Zeke, a big worry wart, especially with that gal in the olive cashmere turtleneck staring at me.

Apparently the sandwich I brought as an offering was going to go to waste, so I chowed down, but not for Washington. Even though there’s some purple in my closet, I was with my true blue tribe today.

Late in the game and a comfortable lead, I nudged the Pope and said all I wanted to see now was a Pargo windmill slam. Thirty seconds later Frodo had a facial. Nice.

kitzbuel
03-27-2009, 12:16 PM
I think I hurt myself.

:lmao:

malmer7
03-27-2009, 02:29 PM
Late in the game and a comfortable lead, I nudged the Pope and said all I wanted to see now was a Pargo windmill slam. Thirty seconds later Frodo had a facial. Nice.

LOL! oh crap, there goes the keyboard, coke everywhere!

BobZag
03-27-2009, 02:31 PM
:)

UberZagFan
03-27-2009, 02:39 PM
Zeke suggested we drop by an ER since he had counted the hours at more than four.

:roll: :roll: :roll:

Ouch. Uber's stomach hurts now.

Angelo Roncalli
03-27-2009, 03:12 PM
Bowser indeed predicted the Pargo windmill.

First time I've been to a game with Nostradamus.

Birddog
03-27-2009, 05:10 PM
It's a Long Way for Calamari
I thought this was a thread about the Memphis coach after last night's loss.

Bulldog
03-27-2009, 05:14 PM
Oh, wow, hey dudes I thought this was about Kentucky coach going to Oregon and becoming a duck. Wait, what was the topic. Oh, never mind.

mendiant
03-27-2009, 05:17 PM
You, Bowser, are an artist.

Well done!

mendiant