Hilarious... one of the best!

[warlock]

This is really good, but a little long...found this old email i'd saved.... now i remember why... good afternoon laugh... enjoy.



> This is from a Univ of Texas fan but we've probably all been there.
>
> Sounds like this could apply to any football Saturday in the
> southeast......People, this is from a UT fan that went to the Big XII
> championship game. I swear this is the funniest thing I have ever read.
> Trust me. This thing gets good as you continue to read it...I think
> all/most of us have lived this day at least once. My God this made me pee
> my pants.
>
> A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and the early
> morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999:
>
> > >> > >6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas
> Fight at full-freaking blast
>
> > >> > >6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels
>
> > >> > >7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST
> tee-time of the morning)
>
> > >> > >8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)
>
> > >> > >8:53 Crack open second beer
>
> > >> > >8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)
>
> > >> > >10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers),
> sign scorecard for smoooooth 95
>
> > >> > >10:35 Headed for San Antonio
>
> > >> > >10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and
> post-game festivities
>
> > >> > >11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze,
> so we double-back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750 ml plastic
> bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam
>
> > >> > >11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome
> day. Not a single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees.
>
> > >> > >11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the
> shit out of Nebraska.
>
> > >> > >11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go
> fuck himself.
>
> > >> > >12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the
> Alamodome. We're on the second floor of a two-story parking garage on the
> corner (a couple hundred of us). We're hooting and hollering like
> wildmen. The band doubles back to the street right below us and serenades
> us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT.
>
> > >> > >12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity,
> 50-100 grown men are bumping chests with one another, each and every one
> of them now secure and certain of the fact that we are going to kick the
> shit out of Nebraska.
>
> > >> > >1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way
> to the Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the
> band doubles back and stops right below us to serenade us, this time,
> however, with the Nebraska fight songs. Although somewhat impressed by
> their spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are going to kick the
> shit out of Nebraska.
>
> > >> > >1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome,
> somehow managing to stuff the "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer into my
> pants.
>
> > >> > >1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska
> fans. They are taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are
> going to kick the shit out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a
> particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play what I now call and will forever
> be remembered as "Cell-Phone Flop Out."
> Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are
> similar. I tell this Nebraska jackass that if he's so confident in his
> team, he should "flop out" his cell
> phone RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to
> Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: "And
> not those damn refundable tickets, either! You request those
> non-refundable, non-transferrable sons-of-bitches!" He backs down. He is
> unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix,
> non-refundable and non-transferrable. Price: $712. He is humbled. He
> lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers
> of hundreds of Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects. I
> distribute the 11 beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the
> pre-game kingdom.
>
> > >> > >2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I
> open the Traveler and pour my first stiffy.
>
> > >> > >2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska
> is big. Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas.
>
> > >> > >3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9
> yards total offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still
> talking shit. I pour another stiffy from the Traveler.
>
> > >> > >3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half:
> the Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome
> merchants. While I am standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates
> Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety.
>
> > >> > >3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I
> wish I had another Traveler.
>
> > >> > >4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan
> in the bathroom at halftime, I attempt to revive the classic Brice-ism
> from the South Bend bathroom: "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice cock." He is
> unamused.
>
> > >> > >4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the
> Alamodome merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting
> behind me. surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I
> send them off to purchase $5 Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka.
> I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch of pussies.
>
> > >> > >4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind
> me have fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the
> Alamodome merchants.
>
> > >> > >5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am
> beginning to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too
> drunk to see the football field.
>
> > >> > >5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry,
> sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non-refundable and
> non-transferrable."
>
> > >> > >5:37 I try to start a fight with every
> person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a
> policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the
> game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the fuck
> didn't you announce last call over the fucking PA system??!!"
>
> > >> > >5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my
> chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts.
> "Whazzis?," I mutter, awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?"
> Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not score. The
> largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when
> the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo stopped to take a
> gargantuan shit all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the "Nebraska"
> spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty
> Traveler
> bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty.
>
> > >> > >6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I
> walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks
> about their parentage, but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With
> my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that
> if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State
> for the national championship.
>
> > >> > >6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to
> Austin for the 8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day!
> I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care.
>
> > >> > >7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I
> go inside the store. I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've
> never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig.
> I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I
> replace the empty bottle in the frig.
>
> > >> > >7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I
> walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub.
> There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket
> of black olives. I eat them. I then ate approximately two
> pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting
> and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care.
>
> > >> > >8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been
> drinking warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My
> truck-mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and
> Dunn have written other good songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When
> I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that maybe listening to only those two
> songs, ten times each was a bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could
> just let the CD play on its own. Itell him to fuck off and restart "Neon
> Moon."
>
> > >> > >8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My
> truckmate, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top
> floor of a nearby parking garage. tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we
> will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a fucking tent here.
> He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes.
> I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly.
>
> > >> > >8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers
> stuffed in my pants. We're going to kick the shit out of Arizona.
>
> > >> > >9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I
> am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle
> to myself because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice."
> There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell
> myself (out loud) that I have a
> Niiiiiice cock." No one is amused but me.
>
> > >> > >9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking
> Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the
> Erwin Center, much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher:
> "Where did you get that, sir?" tell him (no shit): "Oh, the cheerleaders
> were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would you mind
> throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is
> confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling
> instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now
> pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The
> usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open
> another can of Bud Light.
>
> > >> > >9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the
> usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my
> seats. Texas is losing.
>
> > >> > >10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I
> am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep
> removing my hat and
> beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned
> fan asks if I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell
> him to fuck off.
>
> > >> > >10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst
> fucking call I have EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat again to
> begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate
> and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch gash
> over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt.
> "Perhaps," I think to myself, "I'm taking this a bit seriously."
>
> > >> > >10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing.
> I'm so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on
> my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt
> wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops.
>
> > >> > >10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white
> shirt back on my body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20
> seconds by a good samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered
> in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and keep moving.
>
> > >> > >10:59 With my one good eye, I have located
> the parking garage. I walk up six flights of stairs, promise that when I
> see my friend I will punch him in face for making me walk up six flights
> of stairs, find the truck, and collapse in a heap in the bed of the truck.
> I look around and notice that
> traffic is lined up all the way around the garage,
> six whole flights, and no one is moving. I take a nap.
>
> > >> > >11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend
> in the driver's seat. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and
> notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole
> flights, and no one is moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call
> my friend a "Stupid cocksucker."
>
> > >> > >11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of
> the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the
> garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a
> "Stupid cocksucker."
>
> > >> > >11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of
> the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the
> garage, six whole flights, and no
> one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid
> cocksucker."
>
> > >> > >11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of
> the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the
> garage, six whole flights, and no
> one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid
> cocksucker."
>
> > >> > >11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I
> lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is
> beginning to move on the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to
> the edge of the parking facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the
> street below. My friend looks at me
> like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn
> around and pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to "Neon
> Moon."
>
> > >> > >12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I
> jump from the truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me
> two beers. I am happy. I return to my vehicle.
>
> > >> > >12:26 We have emerged from the parking
> facility. We make our way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch
> with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of
> him. We are all going to die tonight.
>
> > >> > >12:59 We have finished three-quarters of the
> bottle of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing
> at PollyEsther's. Ed has to pee. He walks down the hall to our apartment
> and directly into the full length mirror at the end of the hall, smashing
> it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle uncontrollably and leave for
> PollyEsther's.
>
> > >> > >1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs
> uncontrollably at our efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says in
> between his fits of spastic laughter, "I've been working this door for
> almost a year. I've been working doors in this town for almost 5 years.
> And I can honestly say that I ain't never seen three drunker mother
> fuckers than you three. Sorry, can't let you in." We attempt to reason
> with him. He laughs harder.
>
> > >> > >1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take
> two steps in the door and hear Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group
> and mutter: "See,dat
> wasn't that fuckin' hard. Day don't fuckin' do that
> at the Awamo...the awaom...the alab...fuck it, that stadium we was at
> today..." We order 6 shots of tequila and three beers.
>
> > >> > >2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We
> hail a cab to take us the two and one half blocks to Katz's. The cab fare
> is $1.60. We give him $10 and tell him to keep it.
>
> > >> > >2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the
> hostess $50. We are seated immediately.
>
> > >> > >2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a
> Cobb salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Reuben
> sandwiches, a hamburger, two cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries,
> and an order of onion rings.
>
> > >> > >2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep
> with our heads on the table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every fucking
> bit of our food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted.
> We don't give a fuck. The tab is $112 with tip.
>
> > >> > >2:46 I'm sleepy.
>
> > >> > >9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She
> is the bartender at Katz's. She is not pretty.

[Greg T]

hahaha, worth the read.

[-=AlexXx=-]

that was so long.. pretty funny though.

[Bestleft4dead]

nice. not a texas fan but funny

[TYLER**]

awesome....i would have been pissed if i spent that long reading somehting and it sucked.....this didnt

[Mr. Top Hat]

i didnt have the patience to read it before but that was well worth it

[TTUFAN24]

good stuff, sounds really familiar. as you may have guessed i am a texas tech fan, and we are famous for being drunk, obnoxious, uneducated idiots when it comes to sporting events. did i mention we have no class? GO TECH!!!

[BillyOLDS]

well worth the read, ive got a lotta stories that could combine to greratness as that but not a single one.


one time i wasnt alowed to go in to a club cuz i was too drunk so when the bouncer wasnt looking i tried to bum rush the dooor and got close lined and then dragged to the curb to pass out and then got picked up by my friends lol bad night

i also one time got really drunk and told my friend that i didnt need a ride home from a party that was about 8miles from our place...very dumb idea on my part cuz i got so dumb drunk that i tried to walk home, i made it about a mile and passed out face down on the side walk, i had the idea so that if i puked i would wake up fine lol well about 2hrs after this i was woken up by two elder ladies that were out on their morning walk and they told me they thought i was dead b/c they tried to wake me up a lil earlier, as soon as i woke up the paramedics were there lol they checked me out and made me sign this crap saying i wasnt dead and fine lol and i continue on my walk, only to get pulled over by two cops. they ask me if it was i that passed out and question the hell of me and then ask for my i.d., and i said i did feeling my back poket but all i had was a beer coozie and i handed the cop that only for him to hand it back with a puzzled look lol. then we straightened it all out and the one cop gave me a ride to my place...the whole way listening to lil john... then he finely asks if i was even 21 lol i replied, "no sir" "im 19"