It was cold out, in fact it was Out Cold

I just got back from my ski trip to exotic Galena, Illinois and man I am sore. It was a wild couple of days there. Filled with laughter, cheap hotel rooms, skiing, major accidents, and insults. Basically go rent the movie Out Cold and you'll get an idea of what went on. It was more or less like that sans a fat bearded guy. I mean, we invited Michael Moore but there was some issue with the mountain supporting so much weight... I'll break it down by days to make the whole thing more digestable.

Sunday:
Ah, the splendor of America's Heartland. We spent the whole damn day driving through the backwoods to get to our destination: Dubuque, Iowa. We stayed in Iowa, because it was cheaper. Also it gave me the fun of insulting the local populous with my Iowa jokes. (Loudly in public: "did you know IOWA is an acronym? Yeah, it stands for Idiots Out Wandering Aimlessly. Roosevelt decided that during his 'let's go crazy with letters' days." and "Wisconsin hates Iowa, and vice versa. There was even a battle between the residents of the two states. It was pretty intense, the people on the Iowa side were throwing sticks of dynamite at the Wisconsin people...Then the people in Wisconsin were lighting them and throwing them back")

We rode up in my van, and as anyone who has ridden with me over a long distance knows; it was really fun and kind of scary. It's like a roller coaster that has an even chance of crashing or making it through its run. We got there around 7, after a few questionable manuvers and some creative driving. Brody went in to check us in, and Josh and Barrett got to work unloading the van. For some reason I thought it was funny to pull up a little bit while they were trying to grab the bags. After one or two times Barrett just stood up fully and gave me a "fuck you" look. But he didn't realize he was standing up where the hatch back was highest, as I pulled forward the handle of the door smoked him on the head. I just about peed my pants, it was hilarious. That'll teach him to give me the indignant look.

Other than seeing Blade III (worth it for Jessica Biel sexy-ness, and Ryan Reynolds humor...but not much else), we just went to bed that night.

Monday:
We woke up at the crack of 7:00 and showered (which was later questioned...why shower to go ski?) and ate breakfast. I managed to give them a fake room number at the hotel restaurant leading to problems the next day. But other than that...smooth.

I drove us up to the slopes which was just a hop across the river to Galena, Illinois. We got there and got our stuff ready. I rented boots and used Brody's ludacrisly nice (and as yet unused) skis. But it had been a year since I skiied and I was being a timid little bitch. So my first run was down the bunny slope. But I will say I friggin owned it. After that the confidence built exponentially. There was a black diamond slope that scared me however. For those that don't know there are different rankings of slopes. A black diamond is expert. I had no intention of doing it...until Brody mentioned that Karen had. From that point on my own survival didn't matter. He said she did it after lunch, it was 11:38 at the time....that gave me about 20 minutes to prove my manhood.

To give you an idea of what I was getting myself into, from the top of the hill, you can't see the bottom. All you can see is the Mississippi River at the base of the valley. The grade is like 30 degrees or something equally menacing. I'd beat this 90 pound girl or die trying I was thinking. So down I went. And you know what? It was great. +1000 to confidence.

Now if at this point you're worrying that I might be getting too confident, I can't blame you. Because I was. Basically I felt prepared to ski in the Olympics. So I decided that I didn't need to turn and bleed off speed anymore. I went pretty much straight down the mountain, from the black diamond. People said it was pretty ovbious I was going to crash when I was getting air from a slight bump in the snow. But they had seen nothing yet. The last 30 feet of the hill are a very sharp downward grade, above this it had flattened out somewhat. I didn't account for how much speed I had and never touched those last 30 feet. That's right, I flew.

And you know, flying is great...it's landing I need to work on. The landing was a spectacular wipeout. I kind of landed on my ski's and then sommersalted a few times, ending up on my back. I knew if I survived, but broke Brody's brand new performance skiis he would finish me off. So I, while spinning on my back, put my feet and skiis straight up in the air in a move that shall forever be known as the Helicopter Wipeout. I wrenched my knee a bit, but I was still in the game for the rest of the day.

Thank God lunch was up next. At lunch I showed my friends my proficiency at hacking Coke machines. A trick I can thank the internet and my nerdy college friends for. You can set the machine to give out free soda, tell you how much it's made since the last reset, do a two for one special, etc. Even change the password so no one else can get into the Coke machine utilities. I showed Barrett with no problem. I looked great, but Brody missed the show. So I went to show him. But the second time around, I didn't pay as much attention. Well...as it turned out I kind of broke it. Instead of displaying things, it just read NONE. And did little else. We're not sure what came of it, but the next day we saw a new coke machine being brought in on a truck. I think I'm a wanted man.

The rest of the skiing that day was uneventful. After the slopes, we decided it would be a good idea to come in from the cold and get in the hotel's hot tub. Sadly, we had no swimming trunks. So we went to the nearby Target and looked around. I found fur lined Santa boxers that came with a hat that I felt were just rediculous enough for me to buy. I also found a nice pair of basketball shorts to hot tub in. Score! Sadly, the hot tub wasn't quite up to Real World standards. Frankly it sucked. It was made of concrete and shaped like a little boat. There weren't really jets but there were a few bubblers. Unfortunately there wasn't a lot of water filtration, which turned our hot tub into a Gravy Boat of Disease. Still, it was relaxing.

That night we went and saw The Incredibles it was my second time and I'll reiterate; Elastigirl is hot. Too bad she's voiced by an old harpy by the name of Holly Hunter. But the voice was nice enough for the role. And Craig T. Nelson as Mr. Incredible? Brilliant. Way better than his 46 seasons of Coach, wrapped into 2 hours.

Tuesday:
At breakfast I gave them the right room number, they were like 227? How many people are in that room. I said "...four." And they said "did you pay for four." I replied, "Well one of us was pregnant and squeezed out a kid after we payed for three, so we figured it didn't count" They were not amused. After a scowl and the insinuated threat of spitting in my food I said "yes, we paid for four."

The weather report said it'd be zero out and they were right. What they failed to mention is that there would be wind bad enough to push you back up the hill. Literally, on the bunny slope if you didn't haul ass down it you'd stop then slowly be pushed back. Riding on the lift and looking down you felt like you were watching some piece on the artic, there were little torrents of snow blowing all over the ground and we were pretty much the only people dumb enough to be out in it. Today I had to rent boots and skis because Brody seperated his shoulder on a wipeout from the terrain park. I should mention that 2 seconds later Barrett face planted from the same jump and sustained a mild concussion. As you can imagine, it was awesome.

After lunch we didn't feel like we could go on. I felt like we needed a morale boost, and what is better for that than a huge wipeout. The lodge is at the top of the bunny hill and we were headed down it. I tucked in for speed against the wind and was actually getting some nice speed. I just leaned a bit too far forward at the wrong time and...wham flipped down the hill losing my skis, poles, hat, goggles, gloves and slid backwards getting snow up my coat. I flipped over quite a few times, once I landed hard on my back and it hurt for the next 2 days. All in all it was pretty hilarious. (But I'll own up, it wasn't intentional, if only it were. I'd have a carreer!)

We skiied the rest of the day and froze our asses off. It was pretty bad so we cut the day off an hour early, went back, hopped into the Gravy Boat of Death, and relaxed. I was feeling pretty good so I decided to try something I'd always wanted to try: to use one of those life saving hooks at the pool to polevault across it without touching the water. It was a learning experience, the lesson was that polevaulters don't use aluminum poles. As I plunged it into the water and put my weight on it the rod folded like a cheap tent. What a pisser, and into the freezing cold pool too. Ouch.

We went out that night and ate at Fat Cat pizzza. I spent 5.20 total and got fresh drafted root beer and a large pineapple pizza. It was the Tuesday special, if you're ever in Doobuuquue I suggest it. We decided to head back on Wednesday without skiing when we heard that the temp was going to be even colder than zero. "Colder than zero! That'd have to be....like negative or something" ah the quotes of blonde girls. We spent our last night on the town at a mall where I bought a maxim, knocked over a rack of DVD's at Suncoast, and shouted at Buckle employees. That's pretty much it. At the hotel we watched Collateral, and Josh gave us the quote of the trip. In the climactic scene at the end of the movie where Jada Pinket Smith is hiding from Tom Cruise in the dark of her office and Tom can't find her Josh blurts out, completely deadpan: "Good thing she's black"

And with that I end my marathon post. There's more to tell, but I'm tired of typing and you've read enough. Who needs reading? Go watch TV. I'm out like Jimmy McGreevey.
- Scott

There and Halfway Back Again; The Ho Ho Show

Boys and girls, crowd around and I shall tell you a tale. A tale of travel, a tale of music, a tale of moshing. It is the story of 'The Ho Ho Show: 2004' and it begins in Springfield. I was making plans for heading to the concert when my good buddy Stevo called me up and dropped the news on me; he couldn't get a ride. Oh no! What would I do? As the protagonist of the story I decided to be plucky and self-sacrificing and drive 100 miles in the opposite direction to pick up my friend. And so it was that I found myself in Champaign/Urbana when I should have been in St. Louis. It was really kind of surreal.

After I picked up Good Buddy #1 it was off to get the rest of the crew, this one was hiding in the backwoods of Jersey County, not far from Brighton. We took all sorts of backroads to get there and eventually picked him up around 6:10. By the time we left Barrett's house it was 6:20ish. We took off toward St. Louis, and ultimately The Pageant.

I was speeding pretty heavily because the show started at 7:00, and it was about 7:05 and we still weren't there. But eventually got there and found a parking spot... that was damn near my house in Illinois. I don't know what all those people were there for, but there were ass loads of cars that couldn't have been for the Ho-Ho-Show. The reason I know this is because I am pretty well versed in the Point's demographic, and these people actually graduated High School. I could tell by their cars, and their generally snooty demeanor. Plus the fact that they were like 50. Maybe they thought there was a Kenny-G concert that night or something.

Despite the retirement village going out for the night we still got a spot and got to the venue pretty easily. Going in, security was overly tight for a concert. Don't get me wrong I appreciated a random female gently feeling me up as next guy did, but it seemed like overkill. I wasn't there to meet the president, I was there to make the metal sign and push people in the pit. Oh and music, something about music. I would say we actually arrived around 7:20. In that time the opener act 'The Adored' had already played and their gear was off the stage. Did they play like one song? What the crap?

We wondered around and saw where we needed to be: right in front of the stage in the pit. There was only one problem, a problem that poured his 240 pounds into a large blue polo shirt and kakhi pants. That's right, it was a security guard; apparently one who thought that the pit was full enough. Ah, but sadly he hadn't consulted us about that decision. And that was really his mistake. He walked to one side and looked away for just long enough for us to bum rush the pit. It was great, we were in. Then we noticed him comming back, so I burrowed in deeper like a mole escaping the garden hose. Stevo followed suit behind me, but our burrowing efforts were too slow for Barrett and the 5 foot 9 inches of minimum waged fury that was the security guard pulled him back to the upper levels.

I felt so segregated. A bit like the Jews in all the WWII movies I've seen (thanks History Channel), me and Steve made the train and Barrett had to stay in the Ghetto. Or something. In any case that was how we saw the Lostprophets set. Apparently they're Welsh. Which is a really funny term for being from Wales. But after decades of being called "Walish" I guess I can see why they changed it. During their set Steve and I debated their sexuality. You see, these guys were dressed like they had spent the day with the Queer Guys. Seriously, in fact I think they could coach the Queer Guys. Especially Thom. What the hell Thom? Pull yourself together man, people are going to start thinking you're straight.

Anyway Lostprophets were rediculously well dressed. And one of them had some strange pelvic tattoos, kind of tribal style and going down to the junkular area. I don't know too many heteros sporting that one. A few of them were sporting 'vintage' tee shirts with more accesories than Claire's in the mall. One of them had a pretty righteous mullet-ish hairstyle, except if you can imagine a mullet that the gays have taken over and made stylish. That's when I couldn't take it anymore, when you actually make a mullet look so good that I would consider it for myself (again) you've gone too far, and by fashion alone cannot be straight. Add to that the fact that their hair styles obviously took longer than most womens' and one of them I wasn't even sure was a man...and you have an ambiguous group.

Their set was alright but pretty short at only 6 or 7 songs. The whole time I spent mocking them, and trying to figure a way for Barrett to get down to us. I saw one intrepid kid try not once, but twice to get down to us. He would walk to one of the areas where the tables are right against the pit and hop over, then try to get deep into the pit. Both times a security guard would come and get him, and both times they grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and dragged him out. It was hilarious. But I give him points for trying.

After Lostprophets finished up a few people exited the pit and in the hustle and bustle our good friend Mr. Barry managed to get past chubby security guard #1 and down to us. Next up, Cake they get bold type because they're that amazing. What a show. These guys should have been have been headlining. Half the crowd was there for them, and nobody was dissapointed. Very rarely have I seen a band work an audience like they did, and somehow they made it look like they weren't doing anything at all. Cake was great. While they were playing we looked around and saw a really hot girl. She looked so familiar... me and Stevo debated who she was and both thought that she looked a lot like a girl we knew. Eventually she was standing next to the three of us and I asked them if we should just ask, so I did. "Hey, we were wondering, are you Melissia Berry?" It turned out she was. I started to explain who I was and she was like "you're Scott Gresham." That moment alone was worth my $37.50. Sure we were neighbors, but she still knows who I am. Damn, I'm just that sexy. Anyway Cake rocked, and I don't think I've ever seen a better stage show. At the end of their set people chanted for more Cake for at least 5 minutes, but the radio promoter people wouldn't have it, even when they started to take back the stage. The promoter guy flipped out on the side of the stage and they had shrug and walk off. People booed after that, not booing Cake but booing the asshole promoter.

So after Cake no one was really interested in Jimmy Eat World, well except for some over privledged frat boys with flipped up collars. More on them later. But JEW was taking the stage just as the last cries for a Cake encore were dying out. And, although I like Jimmy Eat World enough I just didn't care. I wanted more Cake and I wanted to eat it too (I'm really sorry for that lame joke I just couldn't resist.) So JEW turned into a gi-normous moshpit for no reason. I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm a mosh pit kind of guy. Something about smashing the hell out of a random person with no hard feelings is just so appealing.

Naturally, I had a hell of a lot of fun with it. At one point I decided to go on a ramage to protect my personal space. I pretty much pushed everyone around me away and had my own little area to stomp around in. Then another time (and this was the first of two times I made eye contact with JEW frontman, Jim Adkins) everyone in front of me, including most of the annoying frat guy contingent, was leaning over heavily. I just decided to push them past the breaking point, I heaved with all I had and they all fell down. So there was a big section, maybe a 15 foot radius, of people fallen down in a circle and me putting my foot on one and raising my arms in triumph. That was when Jimmy John looked at me. I was really near the front, in spitting range if I wanted to. It was pretty cool.

As time went on we kind of moved back a bit and the second remarkable thing happened. I don't know if you guys have ever had to deal with annoying people crowd surfing over you, but it sucks. And we were sick of it. So Barrett decided that we would throw the next person that came over us. We waited and waited, and evenutally this girl was getting passed over us and we looked at each other and gave the universal '1,2,3' head movements and grunts and threw the bitch a good 8 or 9 feet ahead of us onto those same unsuspecting frat bastards. She toppled them, when this 80-90 pound girl crashed down onto the heads of these preppie jerk-offs she brought them down. And they stayed down for a bit. It was a shining, wonderful moment. The final thing of note I have to say about the concert was me, directly pissing off the fratty's. Everyone was moshing through all of JEW's songs, it wasn't about the band anymore. JEW finished whatever song they were playing and people were yelling, and I shouted out "No one's listening" right as I did everything got quiet and that just rang out. I think the band heard me as they were just a few feet away, and the dick head frat boys definately did. It was great. There's more to tell but I think I'll save it to tell you in person sometime, this has become far too long. I hope this tides you over until the 23rd, because it's my last post before my ski trip. Merry Christmas everyone - Scott

Hey dere, hi dere, ho dere

Well hello childrens, I haven't posted in a few days. But am now forced to thanks to the perfect storm of both Tim and Rob posting on the same day. Thanks alot assholes! But I'm comforted in the fact that it takes two people to make me look bad, so I think I almost break even. Here's the next post in my series of "girls-on-TV-that-I-want-who-would-never-have-anything-to-do-with-me" posts. It's actually the one that kicked them all off, but I just didn't get the chance to post it before. Here is the infamous Chloe Sullivan dinner date paper I recently turned in in my Writing for the Professional class.

Journal #2: My Mystery Date

If I could have dinner with one person, living or dea, fictitous or real, I'm fairly certain that I would have dinner with Chloe Sullivan, of TV's Smallville. The reasons for this decision are more than simply because "she's hot". No, there is much more to the decision than physical apperance, although it doesn't hurt. You see, Chloe is a character that I have enjoyed watching (on oh, so many levels) over four seasons of Smallville, however in that time she never had decent boyfriend.

In one instance, a boy feigned interest only to suck her body heat from her body for sustenance. In another, she was merely a pawn to get to the show's protagonist: Clark Kent. Even when she dated Clark, he ditched her at the prom to rescue Lana Lang (the attractive, but frusterating mocha skinned cheerleader) from some "Perfect Storm" of tornados. And it wasn't just because he wanted to save her life, or even the idea of having both girls at once, which has crossed my mind; he was romantically interested in Lana. So he ditched Chloe at the prom without a word, which is a pretty crappy thing to do to her. They quickly broke up.

Chloe has it bad enough on the romance front, but even at home things are chaotic. Her mom vanished from the lives of Chloe and her father without a trace, only to be found years later in a mental institution, with a hereditary mental disease no less. So potentially Chloe has this ailment as well. Not only does this add some character development and emotional shading to h er, I can only speculate that a fairly hot girl with a mental disease would only amount to a lot of fun for me.

Her problems are not limited to her family and friends however, she managed to incur the wrath of an unscrupulous billionaire Lionel Luthor. At first she was in league with him, but after awhile her good nature won out and she broke off their deal. Or tried to, her plan more or less failed. But eventually she got him to confess to the murder of his own parents and sent him to jail. I like this whole exchange because, 1. My plans often fail, despite good foundations and 2. I end up improvising a lot too, and it works out for me. So we have that in common, when you add to that mix the clever points she gets for tricking him into confessing and recording it, and this girl is shaping up nicely.

Through all this disaster and calamity Chloe has maintained her spunky personality, her hard hitting reporting, her wicked style, and her charisma. She has a rocky past as far as love is concerned, but I think this girl just needs a good man. And I am that man. So for these reasons and more I think she would make an interesting dinner partner.


- Scott

My Fantasy Date

I promised Tim that I would post the two page Chloe Sullivan paper when I get it back from my teacher, and I will. But I haven't gotten it back yet, so what could I post? I was thinking about this as I was watching ABC Family today and something came to mind. It was a conversation I had with Tim a long time ago but one that rings true to this day. Here's an excerpt:

Scott: "You know, if I could have a threesome with any two people on TV, I would choose the Gilmore Girls."

Tim: "Yeah, that's just wrong...but I see what you mean"

I know full well that when I'm famous this post will be uncovered and come back to bite me in the ass. To this end I say "Hi future self, drive it on home to those girls for me!" But I stand by it. I mean come on, they just work so well together, they always know what the other is thinking. And they both seem to shag like minxes. Given, Rory's count is only about 5 or less. But her innocence is sexy; this would be tempered by Lorelai's years, nay decades (I mean she had Rory at 16), of experience and their passions (for me) would burn so hot as to make any discrepancies in sexual talent moot. Frankly I don't think I would ever be happy without them again.

Now I have a raging (I realize by including the word raging in this post I leave myself open for jokes...BUT AT LEAST YOU HAVE TO COMMENT, freeloaders) debate going on in my head as to whether or not I want it to be with the actresses (Alexis Bledel and Lauren Graham), or the actual Gilmore Girls themselves. On the one hand, the first option deprives me of that Gilmore banter that I'd imagine they would be doing...even while getting busy. And I'm a big fan of that banter, I'm a banter-er myself and I think I could hold my own. On second thought, let them hold my own, but I'll keep up my end of the conversation. Come to think of it their ends should keep me up. Ok enough innuendo, I'm serious here. Get with the program brain. Back to the original thought, they play off one another so well I have to infer that this would translate into the bedroom as well. However, on the other hand the actresses actually exist. So it's quite the debate...with myself. But in the end I'd say: Advantage: Gilmore Girls.

- Scott

P.S. Could I have crammed any more innuendo into that?! I think not, count up the innuendo. We'll do this like the Jar of Jelly Beans at the supermarket, the closest to the actual number wins.

P.P.S. (I just said Pee Pee, add one to the innuendo count) Tim, I'll post that Chloe paper ASAP.

Que pasa?

Well I'm glad you asked. At the moment I'm planning my Christmas break. A big part of my plan involves cutting out of classes a week early. I know, I'm so hardcore, you guys should start calling me Johnny Hardcore. And make me cut holes in my jeans. And put a special emphasis on the 'core' in hardCore because I like the way it sounds, and if you don't do it I'll switchblade your lilly white surbaban middle-class ass! That's right, I fit exactly into the mold of the non-conformist. Take that social programming!

On Thursday the 16th I'm headed out with Stevo, and Mr. Barry to see the Ho Ho Show at the Pagent. Usually The Point and their corporate rock shows are below me, but I like the Pagent and check out this artist list:

1. Jimmy Eat World
2. Cake
3. Lostprophets

The week of the 20th I technically have school but choose to blow it off for a ski trip with my friends. We're heading up to Galena, IL which my mom reminded me was the first place I've ever skiied in my life. I was 4 at the time, and already a good little yuppie in training. My life became so much more interesting the day the little Chicago Suburb kid possibility died. Thank you Jerseyville. I mean, I wouldn't be makin' moonshine and going to hoe down's in barns if I lived in Naperville would I? I think not. Well, not until the cataclysm, in accordance with the prophesy.

Anyway, the crew heads out the 19th and gets back the 22nd. I swear you guys are going to go nuts over the shenanigans that will abound on this trip. I've got a few good ones in mind...and one or two great ones. Also I'll bring the digi cam, so expect some fan-friggin-tastic photos and maybe an over the top photo essay. I know you all want to be a part of my life, and here's your chance. I pull off capers all the time, but I don't usually take requests. This time, I'll consider it.

So, what ski-trip antics would you most like to see come from this trip?

I'll provide the photos, you provide the bad influence - Scott

On the phone...

Hi friends, I'm on the phone with TicketBastard customer service. So while I'm waititng I thought I'd make a quick post (the snowball that turns into the avalanche of the next mega post) but I was flipping through Natalie Portman (my future wife) pictures and came across one that might well be the most beautiful/sexy Nat pic ever. I thought I'd share this vision of the goddess Natalie with you all. After all, it is the season for giving. So here it is:





Ahh, that was nice. Completely washed away the frustrations of the customer support system, and the muziak they were playing. - Scott

Because I enjoy "borrowing"

Rob French, over at Rob's Office Space always posts intersting links. Some of them I've seen, some I haven't. I like to think of myself as a savant of all things internet, so not too much surprises me (but the Death comic was hilarious and new). But anyway, I finally have a link of my own. My good friend Karen showed me this. I'd say it's worth passing on. So, good little soldier that I am, here is me passing it on.

Click here.

It's pretty clever. I thought it was some lame "hot or not" or "secret crush" thing. It isn't, in fact this is one of the most clever things I've seen on the internet in awhile. Homestar Runner aside. Well I'm currently shirking my duties, so I'll get back to them. Sorry for the lousy post. - Scott

P.S. Everyone do this, if you're reading my work you're obligated. Now I'm out like Bush's cabinet.

My Thanksgiving; A Recap

Well, it was another Gresham Thanksgiving. How fun. Let me give you a little background on me and my Thanksgiving traditions. To do this let me take you back in time, *deedly do deedly do deedly do* (camera goes blury then spins around).

The year is 1995, I'm in fifth grade. It's another dull Thanksgiving at the stately Gresham Manor. The relatives are shooting the shit, and I've already eaten or hiden all the deviled eggs. After entertaining everyone by putting on all my clothes and pretending to have gotten fat from eating all the food, I needed something else to entertain myself. What caught my eye first was the myriad selection of wine everyone brought.

What's all the to-do over this grape juice stuff. "Mir-lot" I read. Hmm, not much of a name, it must rely more on great taste than marketing. I got myself a wine glass and poured it full to the brim. Then I got a straw (What hoosier drinks wine through a straw?), quickly noting no one else was drinking wine through a straw I scrapped it. I also decided that adults might not think it's as funny as I do to be drinking wine at my age so I'd better down it fast.

I tasted it, and immediately concluded that it had gone bad. But, not that bad. As I drank the rest of it (I'd say over about 10 minutes) I liked it a bit more. Eventually, the inevitable happened. I was about to get away with it when I decided it would be more fun to just blatently announce it to the family. Yeah, that's the ticket. I'll show everyone how slick I am. Unfortuntately, no one else took to heart how feindishly clever my plot to get to the wine was. Mom flipped out thinking I was drunk and demanded to smell my breath, and look into my eyes. Dad just thought it was kind of funny. All in all I got off with a slap on the wrist and a pretty fine buzz.

Back to the present. *Lighting strike, 1.21 Gigawatts. Etc.* *Doodly dee doodly dee doodly dee*

It's 9 years later. Thanksgiving has become my drunken holiday. Every year I get a little more adventurous. I remember the Thanksgiving I started to enjoy Bailey's Irish Cream, and when I tried my first gin. Ahh, good memories. All in moderation...until this year. I mean, I might drink a bit more than I should have, but I never got too out of hand.

This year, I got home a day before the T-Day and put in my order. Two bottles of Bailey's, some Whiskey, Vodka, and maybe some wine for everyone else. Sadly, only one bottle of Bailey's, one bottle of Gentleman Jack (the smoother older brother of Jack Daniel's), and one bottle of wine. Tisk tisk, how little I had to work with. I started in on the Bailey's the night before. Just a glass or two. The next day, I would hit it hard.

The morning of the next day (or morning-ish, I think I woke up at around noon) I had the Bailey's Irish Cream on the rocks with waffles for breakfast. The thick, viscous Irish Cream perfectly complimented the syrupy, buttered waffles. Delicious, and healthy! I went through more than half the bottle before the actual dinner. Then through the course of the dinner I finished the rest of it. It was hilarious. Everyone knew I was drinking it, just not how much.

Meanwhile I've been entertaining, jokes, stories, strange things I acted out, all in all you wouldn't have realized I was drunk. I act that way anyway. Although I'm much wittier sober, and my references never miss. For instance, I think when my brother gave out some random tidbit of explination on something I said "Well thanks for the hypothesis Encyclopedia Murphy Brown." Oops. The jig was up when my parents and aunt wanted some after dinner Bailey's and coffee. No one was happy about that, but I did point out that I told them to buy two bottles.

Then we moved on to games. Mad Gab and Buzzwords. I'm the offical North American Buzzword Champion. No one has ever beaten me and I have only missed 5 questions. My name is Daniel, and I can not be defeated... But the other team can get pissy that a drunken 19 year old is kicking their ass. And that's exactly the tact my aunt (and to a lesser extent my mom) took. They were just "taking" things. Like if it wasn't what the buzzphrase actually was, but close enough my aunt would be like 'I'm taking that'. And yet deny my team that same liberty. The bitch!

So, I did what any reasonable drunken master of the English language and Pop Culture would do. I threatened to ruin Thanksgiving. "IF YOU KEEP CHEATING I SWEAR THAT I WILL SAY SOMETHING TO RUIN THANKSGIVING" They knew not to push me. And we went on to win 165 to 48. Good times. - Scott

P.S. As I typed this epic, I was watching Smallville. Kristin Kruek is so hot she even looks good as a zombie. Now THAT's beauty. I don't care where you're from.