Giving The Wussies A Run For Their Money

While everyone has been waiting for any kind of news of the future plans of D Shanks and the Wussies, a new band has emerged from the ranks of "What th Fuck is this?" With tracks like, "Middle Finger Tits", "My Peehole", and the ballad "Boogers are my friend" the new band, Retard Riot is droppin' mad knowledge, y'all. Check 'em out here at Retard Riot Music.


Yesh-a-mesh.

Slow news day

Sorry about the delays, but I do have a job. Back to business.

There has been a public outcry for a rerelease of the Deck® Party invite. There has also been some discussion about the level of difficulty of the RSVP feature. The ruling is that I'm going to work on making the invite more intuitive this weekend and I'll rerelease it on Monday. Okay? Lovely.

Man, nothing has really happened this week that is worth noting. I'm sorry. So, I'll leave you with a few things to check out as we prepare for the weekend:

This is an interview with Da Ali G show's Sasha Baron Cohen on National Public Radio. If you like Ali G, you'll like this insightful interview. Just click on the link below and then click the link labeled, "All Things Considered Radio":
Ali G on NPR

If you live shrouded in darkness you probably haven't seen this, but it is probably my duty as a member of the Blogosphere to post a link to this:
Kerry vs. Bush - The Musical. This is good stuff.

Just a reminder that Mike Tyson will be fighting live tonight at the House of Julio®. All are invited.

Cheers.

Bad Day To Be a Goth Kid

I tried several times yesterday in vain to send a live report to The North End™ from the Vans Warped Tour 2004 via my phone (it can be done). I realized two things after my failed attempts. First, ironically my Verizon Wireless phone has shitty reception at Verizon Wireless Ampitheatre. Just so you know. Second, no one would probably give two grumps about the bands that were playing. However, there was something special in the air besides teen BO and pot. The special thing would be the people watching. For those of you that ain't up on things, the Warped Tour is a festival of predominately punk bands. So, as you can imagine, the mohawks and goth kids were out in full effect. That and the Klefners and I were the oldest people there that were not dropping kids off or working. The thing that made me chuckle was the fact that apparently, goth kids don't have a summer clothing line-up. Seriously kids, you're overweight, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, huge black kikwear pants, and it's like 85 degrees and your walking on asphalt. I'm all for you hating your parents, you hating yourself, you hating conformity, but this is stupid. Do you hate air-conditioning, too? Maybe, it's that they're avoiding a tan at all costs. Whatever it is, it's something that they are going wish they didn't do when they're running for Congress in twenty years. I'll remember you, stupids. But, the Warped Tour wasn't all black clad fat asses trying to scare me. Yellowcard's" performance was pretty effing shweet. They were really the only band I wanted to see and they didn't disappoint. I don't know what it is about these guys, but they're growing on me. And I'll tell you, not since Arnold Poindexter from Revenge of the Nerds have I seen a guy rock out so hard with a violin.

Whatever until tomorrow.

Recipe for Disaster

Listen close, everyone. You could learn an important lesson from me. Never, under any circumstances, chug a triple Viente Mocha from Starbucks before boarding a plane for a two and half hour flight. First of all, this does unspeakable things to your intestinal tract. Trust me, you do not want to fight that battle in that 2x2 Cambodian Torture Chamber called an American Airlines bathroom. Especially, when there is a line of girls from Miami waiting to use the bathroom when you are discovering multiple dinosaurs. Second, the coffee has you so amped that you can't even sleep through this hell. And there is absolutely nothing worse than being stuck in your seat while your plane is taxing to a gate where, because we arrived early, another plane is waiting to shove off, causing you sit for at least another ten minutes, puckering for dear life. This isn't to say that the flight sucked. Right before you land in Miami, you get to see Florida's famous swamps which resemble a green Jackson Pollack painting. It conjured up old memories of Crockett and Tubbs hauling ass on one of those swamp boats with the Gi-normous "Pike House Choad" Box Fan on the back. Yeah, that one.

This past weekend, while at the emporium of Bullshit, The Brooksider, someone's true feelings about The North End™ came out. I believe it was our friend Dshanks that accused the The North End™ of being a Julio tribute site. He feels that the commentary on the site is Julio-centric. Now, while The North End™ and Famous® industries does mention The House of Julio® frequently, you have to think about why this is. If I owned the house, it would be called The House of Agdaar. If the Stuntman owned the house, it would be called The House of Glamour Gooch. Hopefully the picture has been drawn for you. If anyone should be offended here, it is The Big Sleep because The North End™ most certainly Jara-centric. Luckily, the Legal Team® at The North End™ talked me down from doing something stupid to avenge the good name of The North End™. This release was approved by the Legal Team®: "The North End™ is not a good place to start a flame war, my friend. At no time does The North End™ Nation put up with being flexed on. Next time, justice shall be swift. Now apologize to Miguel and we'll put this behind us." In closing, The North End™ IS NOT Julio-centric, so get over it.

And now a story about Julio. In an on-going effort to find a David to Julio's Goliath in NCAA 2005, I believe I have found an answer. This past weekend, while expecting the usual ass-kicking from Julio's K-State team, Agdaar's Florida sent a message loud and clear. Julio is a mere mortal like the rest of us. Florida fell by one point to Kansas State in the final seconds after blowing a seventeen point lead. This has been a heated topic the last couple days. Julio denies that any message was sent and that it was business as usual for the K-State machine. I say that Julio even admited that he was nervous and I know that he was as surprised as I was when scored the final touchdown that slammed the door on my upset. I know the mistakes that I made and I can't take them back. The rematch at the swamp will tell the tale. I know for a fact that JG will probably post a clever comment discrediting this event, but no matter what he says, he knows deep down that the Gators are coming for him again and this time, once we clamp down we're not letting up. EWWWWWWWWWW...... That was pretty fucking poetic. Seriously, Julio, you're done.

For the here and now, I'm off to the Warped Tour to check out New Found Glory and Yellowcard. I hope you all have a good one and by the way Julio and Trotta, it was a free VIP pass, who gives a shit who's playing, it's a nice day that isn't at work. I look forward to your comments.


cheers.

New House, Same 'Hood.

Welcome to The North End™'s new place. That place we had before was like an apartment type thing. These dudes were letting us stay there for free as long as we let them put an ad at the top and we had to add that blogspot part to the URL, which wasn't bad so much. But, we like it much more without it. One thing you'll notice is that our new house doesn't look much different than our last house. This is true. While we don't live on the blogspot servers anymore, blogspot is still kind enough to generate our blogs for us. That means we kind of have to let them decorate for a while until we get 'em drunk and they agree to let us put some posters or something up. Maybe a air hockey table. The North End™ nows lives next door to our single parent company (mom left when when were only 12kb big) Famous®. So, if you get a chance sometime and you're in the neighborhood visiting us, stop by Famous-Industries' place. They're still building their place, but you never know what you'll stumble across. They're pretty crafty guys.

Some may dress suave and use odd words that sound cool. Some buy a BMW (which by the way, I'm told is an extension of my penis, I think of mine more as an extension of my middle finger to those that think I would need a penis extension). Others would maybe squeal their tires at every green light. Or finally, some people sign a fraternity or sorority, all in an attempt to be cool or be viewed as cool. I know that a lot of people look at this site are or were members of the greek community. Sheeit, alot of people looking at this site including myself have called another dude a "brother worthy high master" in the bonds of phi phi kappa alpha in that dungeon we called a chapter room at the PIKE house. For those that have not, our friends at Frat Daddy have compiled a handy little site to show you the ins and outs of stereotypical fraternity life. Some of you will laugh and some of you will laugh nervously knowing that you still do some of this stuff. You know who you are.

Well, I leave tomorrow for Miami to tap dance for the suits at Burger King's headquarters. Hopefully I'll be able to squeeze out another post between now and then. If not, I'll see you all in a few. For now, I retire as the House of Julio Resort and Casino WSOP champion.

Cheers.

The Stuntman Summer Tour 2004

I'm not sure if everyone knows the story of the Stuntman's run-in with the law back in the days of Manhattan costume parties, but let's just say that he was dressed as Superman at a party and couldn't convince a cop that "it" was "kryptonite." If you want to know more you'll have to ask him. It seems that there are copycat crimes going on across the nation. Either that or an unannounced Stuntman Summer Tour has been kicked off without any awareness. I will say that I don't remember seeing him on Saturday night and this does sound like a job for the Glamour Gooch.

Legal Team® Message:
The Stuntman Summer Tour 2004, which is not real, should not be confused with the D-Shanks and the Wussies vs. Danger Kitty Summer Tour 2004 which is absolutely real. In fact, the rumor is that D-Shanks and the Wussies might actually take time off of their tour to perform at The Deck® Party, on August 14th. But, I guess you won't know until that night. So, RSVP, stupids.

The North End™ Nation

This last weekend marked the second annual High Society Kegger at the Alpha Xi Delta Alumni Compound and The House Julio® was represented five deep. The evening started out hectic. As soon as we came on the scene, there were crazy amounts of girls (some familiar, some I would like to be more familiar with) all dressed to kill. Massive convos were springing up. The usual, "What have you been up to?" and "Eazy, why you wear your pants that way?" and my favorite, "What's up with that invite? What do you do?" Once, we carved through all that we took our posts on the back porch where Dshanks sat in silence, almost like he was quietly plotting someone's death. Not until his round table convo with Brooke did he come out swinging, Kudos. Anyway, three beers past I learned the ins and outs of the "Wobbly H" which is a variation of the "rotesserie." Please don't ask. After a while a group showed up looking like they either came from a wedding or a young republicans meeting. Either way they made me look way under dressed so after aquiring two new teammates, Amy and Brooke, we bounced out to Fin's for some dive bar madness. So, I would like to thank Jenny and Paige for their hospitality (I don't know who your third roomamte is, but I thank them, too) I also want to say big ups to Angie, the other Angie, Sarah, April, Brooke, Amy Spring, Jenny (again), Paige (again), Carly, and everyone else I forgot. Your shining personalities and glowing aesthetics made my Saturday evening special. Thanks for the beer, too. I also thank you guys for your dedication to The North End™, keep checking us out.

Also, I want to hi to 5000. Again, thanks for your interest in The North End™ and The North End™ Nation.

Weekend Stats - 7.16.04 to 7.18.04

Total Bar Tab: $30
The Trotta Drunk-o-Meter: 4
Choad Sightings: 1
Score of KSU vs KU game (NCAA 2005): 31-28 KU
My record vs. Julio 0-4
Projected career record vs. Julio: 1-117-1
DVD's of the weekend: Aqua Teen Hunger Force Vol. 1, Belly, City of God
The Deck® Party RSVP's: 3 (boo)

The thing about the Trotta Drunk-o-Meter is that is off set by my drunkeness. Meaning, I couldn't get an accurate reading on Trotta because my own Drunk-o-Meter was in the yellow.

Dammit!!!

I have this feeling in my gut that the screaming fans of The North End™ probably don't read all of the posts when there is more than one a day. Just a hunch. Look around. You'll notice that there are nice little light grey boxes where there used to be pictures. You might also notice that the invite we sent out last week has also vanished. Well, there is simple explanation for this. Milhowsse is a deadbeat. Typdetroit.com has passed on to the big recycle bin in sky. Typdetroit was hosting all of the pictures of The North End™ and the invite. I guess becuase I was using that space for free that makes me a deadbeat as well. But, no longer. The parent company of The North End™, Famous®, has finally established an address on the web. Although, there is no website there, YET, you can check out it's beautiful holding page here. Anywho, there point is www.famous-industries.com will now host all of The North End™'s pictures from now on. We will be resending the invite soon.
Just an FYI.

Caught in the Blurple Haze

I woke up this morning after having the first full night of sleep in a week. Couple that with the fact that I took the poker table on a ride last night at The House of Julio® and I have a huge, uh, well, smile on my face. That's right, I had enough full boats last night to start my own navel fleet. And for the first time in a long, long time the straight flusher destroyed Julio's four of a kind, coutesy of a game of Iron Cross that featured wild down sevens called out by the Stuntman. What does that mean, you ask? Who the hell cares. The irony is that the Stuntman is the same guy that used to refuse to play Seven Card Stud with the Queen of Spades Kills It rule in effect because there were too many rules and it was too confusing. Meanwhile, even the most wasted person at the table had no trouble with it. Suddenly, Stuntman is tossing out crazy poker laws like a white, less hung Clarence Thomas (remember the pubes on the coke can? screw C2, the honorable C. Thomas had the real low carb treat. High in protein as well). Anyway, I'm not bitching because I won, but I just found it ironic. That's all.

And for those of you that missed you seat at the table last night, you missed the return of the Choad's greatest invention. The Blurple Shirt. Let's start with the basics. What is Blurple? Blurple is a color that is not quite blue and not quite purple. It's Blurple. The beauty of the Blurple shirt is that you can successfully wear it to either a K-State football game or a Kansas City Royals game. Talks are under way with Crayola to get a crayon in this fabulous color, but just like our pitch to FUBU for a fall line of shirts, neither company is calling us back. Looks like Choad will have to release the shirts under his own label "The Mantra of Chinaken." Available at finer boutiques in Indian Springs Shopping Mall.

Boooyakasha! The New Season of Ali G starts this Sunday. For those of you not familiar with Ali G Check this out. Respect.

I have lot's more to say, but I gots a meeting to go to. Maybe I'll drop a post later today. But in the meantime, shut up and rsvp, if you haven't already, stupids. (Thank you, Chancey and Amy, you are angels.) We need to know how many kegs and donkeys to order.


Cheers.

Into the Fray

I am a man-boy of few words, but as I toss my hat into the proverbial ring of this newfangled blog world, rest assured I will only provide information that is both useless and uninformative, thus keeping in the tradition of the internerds posting random crap before me. Having said that, please enjoy this:
That's what you get for fucking with me!!"

thanks for having me, like you have a choice.

The 1997 Skeek All-Stars

One thing about The North End™ that sucks worse than the writing is the inability to track users or track hits. It would be nice to know who's looking at this lump of shit or how many people are looking at this lump of shit. However, I think, I don't know, I think The North End™ has peeps as far west as Denver, as far East as Miami and New York, as far north as Detroit, and as far south as Wichita (okay we're working on that direction. That may not seem like much, but I feel that's pretty good for a site that just started and only has word o' mouth buzz. So, for all you guys that are checking this thang out, Thanks. I'm having fun and I hope y'all are, too.

This weekend marked the long-awaited reunion of the 1997 Skeek All-Star team. The team consisted of "The Don" Guerrero, "12.5 Head" Anderson, "T Dub" Francis, "The Hitman" Hart, and well I just happened to be there. Missing members of the 97 SAST were "Superior Race" Trible (who is now married and has completed his dream of disappearing in Texas) and Potts. The evening began with a meet and greet in the bar at Houston's on the plaza. Speaking of which, if you ever want to be treated like shit then pay 22 dollars for a plate, may I suggest Houston's on the Plaza. I give this place four out of five Brown Stars. The only thing keeping it from a perfect five was the food, which was incredible. But, the service sucked my ass. The girls that worked there acted like the too-cool bitches in High School. And following suit, they turned somewhat nice once you start talking Hundos. So, after our feast we moved on to several other places and proceeded to drink heavily. Unfortunately, nothing of note happened other than taking massive shots and bullshitting about Dell,Twenty, and world famous Burgess (y'all know). Oh and something happened that made me laugh so hard, I was paralyzed and gassing out uncontrollably. The evening apexed with more drinkies on Deck® until approx. 5:30 am during which Trotta felt the need to liberate himself and his Johnson. This wasn't an unusual sight because it is usually disturbing. All in all the reunion was a success. Drink beyond control, check. Force Anderson to pass out, check. Hump Anderson's arm as he lay passed out, affirmative.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't that interesting. So, it's one of those "had to be there" things. Piss off.

Tomorrow check your e-mail or The North End™ for a major announcement. Want another hint? Five legs. Christ, you are such a little girl... Quit sobbing.

That's it for now. Since, this post may have been a little weak, I might post again later today. My sinuses are revolting and I feel like I may be coming down with West Nile. Hopefully, I 'll better later today.

Until then........

Weekend Stats - 7.9.04 to 7.11.04

Interesting weekend, here's the score:

-Choad sightings: 1
-Stuntman Stunts: 0
-hangovers: 1
-pants shitting close calls: 3
-The Trotta Drunk-O-Meter®: 8
I wasn't out with Trotta, but when I saw him later Saturday night, the Trotta dong was out for some 3:00am air.
-Crown and Peach shots in one 30min sitting: 4
-Times T Dub charmed his lady friend: 8
-Times T Dub charmed my lady friend: 46 -Hmmm....
-PS2 Hour log: 4
-Game of Choice: Spider-Man 2 (Booooyah! Activision Coops!)
-Estimated length of Julio's 'stache: 7mm
-Drink of choice for Distinguished Assholes: Sapphire and Tonic
-Inside jokes and stories told by the 97 Alls-Star Skeek Team: 120.5


Okay, the problem is I have hard time remembering everything that happened so feel free to drop comments and remind me of anything I missed.

What's with the wallet?

As MA$E says, welcome back. Sorry. It's been long time, since I left you without a dope post for you to step to. So, I'll start with excues. Like.... I've been busy. Or...... It's not you, it's me. Even..... She's just my secratary. Whatever excuse you choose to believe, the fact remains that I've neglected The North End™ like a Dshanks piss test. So, here we go.

The North End™ has a major announcement to make sometime early next week, so be sure to pay your internet bill and keep an eye on your e-mail and obviously check The North End™ so you don't miss out. Want a hint? Okay. WOOD. That's all you get, stop fucking crying.

Ears on the tracks say that everyone's fav super hero, T Dub is rolling into the Fountain City this weekend. This good news comes hot on the heels of even better news that there could possibly be a sighting of "the Don" Guerrero and "Five (maybe Six by now) Head" Anderson fresh from their stint in Topeka for being knobs. They've done they're time, so for everyone that reads this, Ring the Alarm and let's get it on this weekend.

In other breaking news, The House of Julio® Resort and Casino could be gearing up for another showdown in it's Night of Urban Legends series. It was mentioned at Poker Night last Wednesday by the Big Sleep that heard that some guy said he could drink 10 Heinekens in a half hour. I guess this guy succeeded. "The Stuntman" spoke up and called out the "Power 10." And from there the buzz is in effect. Negotiations for the bout are still in the works, but when papers are inked it is sure to be a battle to remember. Let's recap the rules: The fight will be set for 10 rounds, one for each 12oz bottle. The Stuntman will have to knock out 10 12oz bottles of Heineken in one half hour (for real this time). The challenger (johnny) cannot hork (vomit) during the bout or for a half hour after the bout. The challenger may use the restroom under supervision of the Choad (who I think may have a special knack for this job). Again, this battle has not been scheduled due to the fact that The Stuntman is weighing his options and trying to incubate a pair, nancy-boy. Details will be forth coming, so stay tuned to The North End™ for details.

I'm postponing the Weekend Stats feature this week because it's already Friday and I could barely remember the weekend on Monday. That kinda speaks for itself, though, doesn't it? Hopefully, will have a nice readout this coming Monday.

I'm not going to continue on until someone gives me my wallet back.... I swear it was right here next to me. No, no I swear. What? It was on my bed? Oh, well I'm going to end this any way.

In closing, I just wanted to say No Love for the Haters that doubted me on the Spider-Man 2 Video Game thang. Activision just sent me the copy. Yes, I am a Badass, Julio. And you don't get to play. Cheers all hope to see you this weekend. If not, fuck you, Anaya.

This just in....

This comes from the El Salvadorian. You always hear about teachers sleeping with students, but it's always some 40 year old chick that looks like Wayne Brady and a confused teen that wanted less homework and more getting worked at home. Finally, a breath of fresh air. Apparently, this girl had an "encounter" (which is a professional word for flicking a 14 year old's fuzzy) with a student of hers. No hoaglies here, this girl is actually cute. Which poses the question that guys sometimes ask themselves, "What about me? Why can't score a girl like that?" For a while, it was that you need to be fit or have money. Then, the craze was girls wanted a guy with a sense of humor, great personality, maybe even love their mama. Now, I have to add being a hairless fourteen year old to the list? Jesus, ladies make up your mind. I don't think I can do this one. I guess I'll have to continue on the current path, scoring drunk girls that think I'm Julio.

Speaking of Julio, have you seen this guy?

Whatever you do, don't let this guy near your kids. Unless, you want some Colombian coffee or a Saddam Hussein look-a-like for your next office party.

Things that go bump in the night.

It's 12:30am at the House of Julio®. I'm home alone watching Jackass the movie. I think for a second of the fact that I'm alone and everyone is still out doing whatever. Suddenly, a cold breeze blows through the floor. And it hits me. The Stuntman is out there somewhere. Trotta is out there somewhere. The El Salvadorian is out there somewhere. Oh Christ, they're all out there somewhere. The sick feeling of impending shinannys washes over me. I remember that I'm not afraid of the dark and go to bed. I peacefully fall asleep watching Conan. During the night I had this crazy dream. I finally got Kate Beckinsale to take off her shirt when she suddenly cries out to me. Normally a shirtless Kate Beckinsale crying out to you is good except when it sounds like the Stuntman doing his patent "The Pistons are beating the Lakers" scream of joy. I realize what is happening and wake suddenly. There were people running around the house like drunken full-grown toddlers. Stuntman is in the front yard yelling, "DUUUUDE!' I wonder what I've done to deserve this. I was having a quiet intimate moment with Kate and God decides punish me. Somehow I fall asleep. The dream starts again, except this time Kate has been replaced by a Bull Mastif and it's not as intimate. The Mastif is chasing me as I cry like a bitch. Just as the dog catches up with me, I wake again. This time, the Stuntman is still yelling, "DUUUUDE!" in the kitchen. I look at the clock because there is some light outside, oh for fucks sake, it's 5:45. I eventually fall asleep to the sounds of the drunken Emeril, then later wake up late. Now, usually Julio wakes up about the same time I do, especially when we sleep together. But, I woke up late and Julio isn't up either. Hmmm.... Interesting. I go in the bathroom for the daily ritual and notice the light bar to the left of the mirror is slightly askew and pulled away from the wall. I fix the light and carry on. There is what appears to be a large black bean in the toilet. I have no idea what is going on. The shinanny fairy has paid the House of Julio® a visit. Whatever happened, I know that the relationship between Kate and I will never be the same.

The Results are in.....

There was electricity and anticipation in the air as the House of Julio® Resort and Casino was set to house the epic battle between newcomer, Miguel "Big Sleep" Jara-something and the unbeaten veteran, The Gallon of Milk. I was wrong in my previous post about the rules. The round was set for one hour, not one half hour. I don't know how that got past the Legal Team®, but it did. I've since fired them all and hired a new Legal Team®. On to the match.

PRE-FIGHT:
There was some confusion from the out set as to who was going to pick up The Gallon of Milk from his hotel. Miguel, showing remarkable sportsmanship, agreed to pick The Gallon of Milk and transport him to the locker room at 9:30. A half hour before the showdown. As 10:00 drew closer, The Choad (A major stock holder in the event) had yet to show. At 9:55, both fighters had emerged from the upstairs locker room and began to stare each other down. It's 10:00, still no Choad. Fuck him, let's get it on.


10:00-10:15:
MJ23 pours his first glass of milk into the frosty mug. Showing that he is not intimidated, "Big Sleep" drinks it pretty damn fast while continuing his hand in the poker game. 10:10- Choad finally shows up in his usual Cabella's Gear grinning, again, as usual. By this time, MJ23 is towards the end of his second glass. He stood up with authority and filled the third to the brim. The Gallon of Milk is starting to fade. The first quarter goes to MJ23.


10:15-10:30:
I'm losing my ass in poker. So, I focus more on MJ23, looking for signs of fatigue or that look of pain. Nothing. Miguel fills the fourth glass with a stone face. 10:30 rolls around and The Gallon of Milk is looking bad. He's a little under half filled. Second quarter goes to MJ23.


10:30-10:45:
Around 10:40, half-way through the fifth glass, Miguel anounces with a pained look on his face that "I ain't gonna lie, this shit's getting hard." I dismiss his comment at a poor attempt to play possum to The Gallon of Milk because "Big Sleep" continued to pummel his opponent without hesitation. The Gallon of Milk is looking bad. There's about a fourth left going into the last quarter. Third quarter goes to MJ23 again. If The Gallon of Milk wants to win this, he has to focus on his positives going into the home stretch. A) He is getting warm and thick. B) The bottom of the container is deceiving. It's looks like there isn't much left, oh but there is.


10:45-10:50:
Remeber that the rules state that MJ23 cannot puke until 12:00. He is allowed to use the rest room, but only under supervision. At 10:50, the fans opt to take the fight out onto Deck® to witness the last stand of The Gallon of Milk. "Big Sleep" announces that he has to take a shit. The fans file out onto Deck® and Miguel retires to the lav under the watchful eye of the Choad. I'm not sure if any one else saw this, but, Choad was taking his job a little too serious. I would think that all you would have to do is stand by the open door, watch TV, and listen for MJ23 to puke because if does, it's going to make noise. Maybe I have a problem watching another man loafing, but Choad had no reservations. I don't think Choad ever took his eyes off of him. Hmmm.......


10:50-11:00:
Mj23 emerges from the lav and confidently tells the Choad to bring The Gallon of Milk out to the Deck® for the final showdown. I'm not sure what glass it was (I had a little drinking contest myself and I was losing or was I winning?), but this looked like the end of The Gallon of Milk. The Choad poured what looked like the last glass into the mug. When he was done, there was at least half a glass left in The Gallon of Milk. The Gallon of Milk was constructing a rally. This was the turning point in the match. With time running out, MJ23 makes an attempt to finish this glass fast so he could knock-out The Gallon of Milk's last portion. Suddenly, "Big Sleep" is starting to think about where the match is going. With his hands on his knees and head nodding it is apparent that The Gallon of Milk has made it move. "Oh, man. Oh, shit.", was all MJ23 could say about 70 times. The Gallon of Milk had "Big Sleep"on the ropes. At 10:52, The Gallon of Milk decided that play time was over went for the knock out blow. MJ23 turned to the edge of the deck and contemplated his options and tried to ignore his salty spits. Finally, with all the glory of a Fourth of July Fireworks spectacular, The Gallon of Milk erupted from it's host's stomach. The Gallon of Milk came from behind to secure it's unbeaten record.


The Aftermath:
After spending several minutes of shame by the fence, MJ23 turned around still muttering, "Oh, man. Oh, shit," but this time with the patent "Big Sleep" grin. The Gallon of Milk, with a half glass remaining, didn't need to say a word because the veteran never had any doubt about the match. That and it's a gallon of milk and it can't talk. Even though, MJ23 was quoted as saying, "I almost had it. I could probably still do it," no rematch has been set. "Big Sleep" will probably retire now. He has a wonderful holiday weekend of constantly shitting himself to look forward to.


The moral of the story is that you cannot drink a gallon of milk in an hour without puking. If you say you've seen it done, you're fucking lying.

cheers.