January 2011 - The AFC Championship Game or How My Love of Sports Led to Me Striking Out with a Hot Girl Again

The Steelers/Jets AFC Championship game had me fired up for 2 reasons. First, I wanted to see the Steelers whoop their fucking ass. The Jets talked all kinds of shit, even though they haven’t been to the Super Bowl in 42 years. But more importantly, I was excited to finally get to talk to some people that were like me and loved football. Since I moved to Philadelphia, I haven’t really been able to meet people. It’s almost like I made a deal with the devil to be successful in life such that I would be condemned to working in an office where there are only 3 people under the age of 30. As a result, I haven’t really met a lot of people my age, so as you can imagine it gets to be boring as fuck. 

 
I got to the Fox and Hound, which is the Steelers bar in Philadelphia, at 3 pm, just in time to see the start of the Packers/Bears game. As far as I’m concerned, this was a matchup of who gets to get their ass beat by the Steelers in front of the largest television audience ever in Super Bowl XLV. The bar was pretty packed already with Steelers fans, but somehow I managed to find a single seat at the bar next to 3 girls. Now these 3 girls were “Packers” fans (I don’t know how many girls I really believe are hardcore football fans. I believe they just use it as a way to meet guys, and hey I’m not complaining), and the one girl insisted that I root for the Packers if I was going to sit there. I told her about how my mom’s boyfriend was from close to Green Bay, and I was by default rooting for the Packers. I was really hoping that these girls would be hotter, but what girls from Wisconsin are hot? Send me a picture if you ever find one. 

As a result, I decided to start drinking heavily (what better plan when you are trying to kill time when surrounded by unattractive girls). So I started drinking Bud Light, when I realized that I don’t even like Bud Light, so I switched to Yuengling 24 oz cans. I get about 3 cans in when I hear the girl complaining that I’m not clapping when the Packers score. I respond that I don’t really want the Packers to win because I think they have a better chance of beating the Steelers than the Bears. She gets angry because she thinks I lied to her. Personally, I don’t give a shit because I’m having a good time drinking beer and watching shitty football.

Fast forward to the end of the game, when these girls are oblivious to what is going on in the game because they are talking to a guy that was interested in them (see my theory). I am starting to get pretty drunk and I realize that I need to slow down because I want to remember the ass whooping the Steelers put on the Jets. Out of nowhere, I hear people referencing bars in the South Side in Pittsburgh that I used to go to all the time when I lived there. Finally, something I can talk to someone about. 

A group of about 4 guys and 4 girls from Pittsburgh are now standing behind me. We start talking about the game and all things Yinzer related, when the one of the guys gets the great idea to order up some Vegas bombs to celebrate the impending domination of the Jets. As you know, I am the master of Vegas bombs (see the Vegas bomb story from the Winter Classic). We all do our shots, and get ready to kick some ass.

I won’t bore you with the details of how we kicked the shit out of the Jets in the first half, but I will start the rest of the story from when there was about 5 minutes left in the game, and the Steelers somehow were only up 24-19. I’m talking to one of the guys from Pittsburgh about the game, when a girl taps me on the shoulder and asks me if she can get through to get a drink. 

Now this is where my expertise kicks in. I will be the first to admit that I am terrible at starting conversation without having an “in”. I noticed this girl earlier, who was actually extremely hot to be in a sports bar, but she wasn’t really talking to anybody. So here was my in. I made fun of the Colorado Buffs shirt that she was wearing because A) who wears a Colorado Buffs shirt in Philadelphia B) they have nothing to do with anything going on that day in sports C) I like to make smart ass comments to hot girls to see if they will be smart asses back. This girl’s response was because I was just skiing in Colorado. Not really a smart ass comment, but I don’t care, my life is great right now with the Steelers about to go to the Super Bowl for the 8th time. 

The girl then starts to go off about how she is from Cleveland and hates the Steelers, which was warning signal number one. Normally, this is around the time where I would start talking a lot of shit about how Cleveland is the fucking worst place on earth, and that I hate everything about it, but for some reason I changed my mind. I gave the backhanded compliment of what is it like to be surrounded by winners. She actually thought it was funny, and told me to go fuck myself. I thought this was the end of the line, but then she says that at least she is a diehard Browns fan, unlike 90% of the people in the bar who probably just became Steeler fans last week.

I like girls that have a little bit of feistiness in them, so now I was intrigued. I then told her my theory that if you put Black and Yellow continuously as your Facebook status, or if you have a Troy Polamalu jersey that’s less than 2 years old, then you are a bandwagoner. She laughed, but I couldn’t let her have the upper hand, so I said that at least we don’t have a white running back like the Browns. 

Now most girls would be like, “Uhh, white running back. Didn’t know that.” What was this girl’s response, “How many people can say their starting running back backed up Darren McFadden and Felix Jones at Arkansas and rushed for 1100 yards in a season?”

Right there I fell in love. This girl knew more about football than 99% of the people in the world, and by the grace of God happened to be somehow talking to me that is in the top .1 percentile of football knowledge.

We continued to talk, making jokes about how Braylon dropped a ton of passes for the Browns, but when he was at Michigan (my alma mater) he dominated Penn State (her alma mater). Everything was going great, right down to her mocking Black and Yellow with Green and White, to which I came back with no one from Cleveland is smart enough to know how to rap (I know Kid Cudi is from there). 

It got to the point where I should either A) be hooking up with this girl, which was not likely because we were in a bar packed with people, while I was watching the Steelers game or B) Getting this girl’s number so that we could plan our wedding the next day.

Rewind now to the point where I have been drinking since 3, and that because I didn’t originally know anyone at the bar, I was on the phone with my friends from Pittsburgh all during the first game. Therefore, my phone died in the first quarter of the Steelers game. And this girl’s phone was also dead. She even gave me the perfect opportunity when it still had battery, because she was like look at all this fucked up stuff my dad is texting me about how much he hates the Steelers. 

So after the game is over and we are getting ready to leave, I make another smart ass comment about how I wished the worst of luck to Cleveland and Penn State and she tells me that she fucking hates me (but in a loving way I swear). I walk out the door to go celebrate the victory in the streets.

Halfway down the street I realize that I could have easily gotten a pen and written down this girl’s fucking number. But did I do that, fuck no. I finally found a hot girl with no boyfriend that loved sports and I fucked it up. Sometimes my mind is so busy trying to think of the most complex things, that I overlook the blatantly obvious answers. 

If you are a girl in the Philadelphia/New Jersey/Delaware area, own a Colorado Buffs shirt, and are from the Cleveland area, please call me because you are my dream girl and I let you go because I was too busy celebrating the Steelers win (God damn me for being so obsessed with the Steelers (I don’t really mean that)).

My Entire College Career (2006-2010) - The Pissing Incidents

Two summers ago, I had my first run in with Johnny Law, when after leaving Murrysville with Juelz "I can't feel my face" and Nagel, we decided to stop at McDonalds. Now this was nothing out of the ordinary, except that it was 3:30 in the morning. Since it was 3:30 in the morning, I imagined that there was no way possible that the inside of Mcdonalds would be open, and I had to piss really badly before we drove half an hour home.

So what did I do? I found the closest pine tree to piss in. (Juelz actually wanted me to piss on the McDonalds, which could have potentially ended up much worse, or better depending on your view point).

As I'm pissing into this pine tree, I see Yung Mane Jeff driving down the hill across the street with a burnout headlight. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but we had been drinking. Furthermore, there was a cop behind the Yung Mane. I start trying to wave to Yung Mane to tell him to pull into the parking lot, so that he can follow us home, but he doesn't see me and turns at the light to get on the highway to go home.

I run back to the car to tell Juelz and Nagel that I just saw the Yung Mane driving with his light burnt out and that we needed to follow him. They both just kind of look at me with a blank stare and then I turn around.

You know who saw me wave to the Yung Mane? The police car behind him. And he also saw me pissing into the tree.

So the police officer pulls us over and I just keep thinking, "Fuck this is fucking bullshit. I was trying to help out Yung Mane and I am going to get in so much shit with my mom." The officer asks me why I was pissing in a tree, and I told him that I didn't think McDonalds was open at this time.

He runs over to the door in a total dickhead move, looks at the door, and yanks the door open like he was fucking pulling the vault door off for a bank robbery. He comes back over and says, "Looks like it's pretty open to me."

I had half a notion to tell this guy to go fuck himself because he was a total rent-a-cop dickhead (he even had a fucking bike on the back of his car), but I decided it would be best to just cooperate.

I say to him that I am sorry and that it was a mistake. I told him that I am not from around here and that our McDonalds doesn't have a 24 hour bathroom.

He looks me dead in the eyes and says, "Oh yeah, well this mistake is going to cost you." Writes me a ticket for fucking 182 dollars. Needless to say I'll never piss in public again.

...Or would I?

About 2 months later, I was now back at school, and had just moved in with Rex is Our QB (aptly named after the former legendary quarterback for the Chicago Bears Rex Grossman). Rex and I decided that along with our friend Dr. Jew, we were going to go to our friend Cluckey's house for a party that night.

So me, Rex, and Dr. Jew walk nearly a mile and a half to Cluckeys house. Now this was during the time period when I was virtually addicted to Jager. Any time I drank, I drank Jager. So we go into Cluckeys house, and what does he have in the freezer? Two big dogs of Jager. Him and I go shot for shot on Jager until the point where we were both belligerent.

Rex and Dr. Jew had drank so much beer that Rex was out on the porch negotiating with this guy that didn't go to school with us to get a hit of his weed. The only problem was that it wasn't weed, it was a cigarette. So Rex was so drunk that he thought a cigarette was a joint.

He takes a huge puff on the cigarette, and passes it back to the guy and says, "Damn man that's some good shit." The guy just looks at him like his fucking crazy and walks away. By that time it is like 1:30 and we decide to leave.

We are fucking hammered and start walking home. The problem was though that we were so drunk that we forgot how to get home. As we start walking, I decided that I had to take a piss again and go along this hillside to drain the main vein.

With my luck though, the house across the street from where I was pissing just received a noise violation, and the police were walking out of their house. I locked eyes with a police officer, who saw me standing there pissing, and then I just started to run. Didn't say anything to Rex or Dr. Jew; just started running. I'll be damned if I am going to pay another 182 dollar fine. In addition, in Michigan, you get something called a minor in possession because they argue that your body is a container and that you basically are carrying alcohol in public.

So I start running faster than Michael Cera in Superbad. I run probably as fast I ever had. I'm running through backyards, hurdling fences, etc. I call the Monster and tell him that I am being chased by the police and that if I get arrested and get the death penalty that he can have my Xbox (I must have been really hammered to give up my Xbox).

I'm still running and I'm calling all my friends from home, when I stop paying attention to where I'm running, and I run right through the fence behind the Tri Delt house. I fall down on the ground and feel like I just got speared by fucking Goldberg.

I keep running and hit the main street, and somehow nearly run right into Rex and Dr. Jew. I recap what just happened and they had no idea where I went. We decide though that to celebrate my victory over the police, that we are going to get the midnight special ordered to our place from Pizza House (for those of you who aren't familiar with it, it is a personal pan pizza and a 32 oz drink for 5 dollar, which you can't fucking beat).

So we get up to our room, order the pizza, when our drunk next door neighbor Meghan stumbles into our room. Meghan basically falls on the floor and I pick her up and put her on my chair. In the meantime, Rex starts throwing up in the garbage can right next to her, and I don't think either of them realized that the other one was there. (I actually don't think Meghan would have realized if she was sober because she is the same girl that got a 1.7, slept through her first college exam, and was forced by her parents to drop out of Michigan).

By this time, I'm starting to sober up so I am aware of everything that is going on, but the other two have no idea. The pizza house guy calls Rex to tell him that he is here, and I tell Rex to go get the pizza while I take care of Meghan.

So Rex has to carry two 32 oz drink and 2 pizzas when he is completely hammered. Amazingly, he makes it all the way down and back up 5 flights of steps without dropping anything.

As he comes into the room, he says, "Holy shit, I made it!" And as he turns the corner, he hits one of the drinks off the door frame, and it explodes all over the floor.

He just looks at me and says, "Well that's okay I wasn't thirsty anyway." And just goes and lays down on his bed eating the pizza.

So by this time, I get Meghan to leave our room, and sit down to eat my pizza. I finish eating the pizza, and realize that Rex has passed out, so I leave both pizza boxes on the floor (mine with the cheese still in it, since I don't eat cheese) and the bag on the floor.

At about 6:00 am I hear what sounds like somebody moving around in the room, and I open my eyes and see Rex butt ass naked in the middle of the room. I'm like, "Dude what the fuck are you doing." And he says, "Hey man don't worry about it. I'm just hanging out."

Here he takes the paper bag that the pizzas came in, and is pissing into the bag. Then, the piss is going straight through the piece of shit paper bag and going right on to the carpet. So here is Rex, naked, pissing on our floor.

To make the story even better, he then sits down in the chair, opens up the pizza box, and eats my cheese that I didn't eat from my pizza. He then goes back to sleep when he is done eating.

Rex wakes up the next day at like 1:30, and says, "Why in the hell am I wearing different underwear?" He had no recollection of anything he did after taking the puff on the cigarette. Maybe it was laced with crystal meth and Rex hallucinated; who knows.

So for the next 2 weeks, we proceed to chastise Rex any chance we get about pissing in the room. We talk about it non-stop and I can't understand why he would ever piss on our floor.

During the next week, I had a finance exam that I knew nearly everything about. I had people calling me and asking me to explain how to do the problems, etc. Like I was dead on with knowing this shit. My one friend Robert gets extra time on tests because he has ADD, and I kept helping him because at the time, we both wanted to go into banking for our careers. So I figured helping him would indirectly help me, and we would both know the material better.

So we get the exam back, and Robert, who knew a lot less than I did about this shit, got 11 points higher than me on the exam. I mean I got an A-, but he got an A +. And this for some reason pissed me off.

So what did I do? Called upon my old friend Johnny Walker to solve my problems. I had 11 shots (1 for every point I got lower than Robert on the exam) in one hour. And then proceeded to not even be able to go out because I got so drunk so quickly.

Now I don't know if any of you have had that much Johnny Walker, but this shit is potent. My eyes were as bloodshot as Stickley looks after smoking 20 pounds of huck.

I make it back to my place by the grace of God. And my friend, the Supreme Jew, force fed me 2 bottles of water. Now at the time, I rarely drank water, so that was like drinking the fucking Pacific Ocean. I knew, even in my drunken state, that I was going to have to piss in like 5 seconds.

But that didn't stop me from passing out right then and there.

I woke up the next morning feeling like something was wrong and then Rex gets out of his bed and says to me, "Do you know what you did last night?" And I'm like, "Yeah, I got fucking hammered. I don't remember anything after coming back."

He proceeds to tell me that about an hour after I passed out. I stood up out of my bed, walked over to his bed (his bed was like 4 feet off of the ground because his dressed was underneath it), and unzipped my pants. I then pissed into his dresser like it was a urinal and then fell face first onto his bed. I also fell on him 4 times until he finally pushed me off of him. To make matters worse, the piss leaked through the wood and got some of his clothes wet, and some leaked out on to his backpack on the floor. Needless to say, I apologized like 20 times.

So Rex and I were tied 1 to 1 in the pissing incidents.

The next weekend, we still joked about pissing on everything like we were fucking dogs marking out territory. That night I went out and got hammered again while Rex went to the library. I came back before he got back and passed out again. In the middle of the night, I walked to the corner of the room, and pissed all over the floor again. Rex claims that he asked me what I was doing, and I said I was pissing in a bush and to watch out for the cops.

So I was "winning" the battle 2 to 1, when the very next night, I refused to drink because I didn't want to piss again. Rex goes out with the Supreme Jew and a couple other friends, and they get hammered. Rex comes back around 2 and I'm like "Dude you are hammered, I bet you piss somewhere again." He is like, "No way man! I'm fine." Except I could barely understand what he was saying because he was so drunk.

So what happens? Middle of the night. Rex gets up and sits down in his computer chair. Takes off his pants and pisses again all over the carpet.

Even better is that the next morning, I text the Supreme Jew to tell him that Rex pissed all over the carpet and that we are now tied 2-2.

His response: make that 2-2-1, I pissed all over my clothes in my hamper last night.

The final pissing incident happened this year when the Monster and his girlfriend came to visit me for our game vs Delaware State. That day me, Dr. Jew, and El Gato Especial (Dr. Jew's roommate), decided to drink all day and play Tony Hawk 2 for Playstation. So the Monster had to play catch up needless to say.

The Monster ended up drinking approximately 25 beers and then had 6 kamikazes at the bar when we went out. Him and his girlfriend slept on my floor that night, and in the middle of the night, I hear something moving around. Here is the Monster standing in the middle of my room not doing anything. I say to him, "Dude what are you doing?" He's like, "I just got back from the bathroom." I said to him, "But you never left." And he just lays back down.

That's right. He pissed on the floor of my room while sleeping next to his girlfriend. Somehow he didn't piss on her, but clearly if he did he would have won the game.

Overall, we now refuse to talk about pissing when we drink because we all believe that this is the reason that we pissed pretty much everywhere but in the bathroom. But if you get up in the middle of the night and have to take a piss, why walk all the way down the hall, when the whole world is your bathroom?

Spring 2003 - The Jeffo Monster Almost Dies

When we were in high school, we were notorious for being the guys that acted like assholes and did stupid things because we thought they were funny.

There was the time that even before I was really boys with Young Speezy that I used AIM to spread the word to get him elected Homecoming representative for the freshmen class.

There was the time that during a mosh pit after we scored a touchdown against Moon that we ripped Not-a-Problem Chris's pants off. And during the same game when we nearly threw Stickley over the railing 15 feet to the ground.

There was the time that the gothic girl Fwock Off chased Stickley around and said, "The Circus is that way." Then the girl proceeded to chase him around the parking lot, slipped on the gravel, and fell down the hill.

But more often than not most stories centered around the Jeffo monster doing crazy shit. Some of the funniest shit I can think about related to the Jeffo monster in high school: when he forgot the words to 99 Luftballoons and Pour Some Sugar on Me, when we used to clip the Monster's backpack to different tables and he would flip them over when he went to pick up his backpack to leave class, when Stickley threw his backpack behind the collapsible wall and the Monster proceeded to knock the whole wall over when he went to pick it up, when he said, "Sometimes I go to sleep and hope I don't wake up.", when we used to sing the song about Jeffo jacking off in the porn store. I could go on and on, but one story supplants all of them: the day Jeffo almost died.

I'm pretty sure that we were in 11th grade at the time, and Jeffo and I were in the cafeteria and went to get dessert; nothing out of the ordinary. One of the people working at the cash register went into the back to get something, when we see the great Mr. Dilly'an, who proceeds to steal a milk from the cooler by the cash register.

Now we are talking about a 35 cent carton of milk here, not a fucking Bentley, but the cashier was a one of our friend's parents so Jeffo tells her that Mr. Dilly'an stole the milk. They go and question him and find out that he did steal it.

Quick side note: The same Mr. Dilly'an wanted to play me in basketball at the park for my Tracy McGrady Orlando Magic jersey because he said, "I didn't deserve it because I wasn't thug enough." Also further update: this is the same dude that did a handstand on a bridge and fell into the water.

So needless to say, this dude was crazy. He comes up to me and the Monster and asks if we told on him. Jeffo is like, "Yeah, I fucking told on you. You shouldn't have stole that." Why Jeffo took the moralistic stand here I have no idea (this is the same dude that got his life threatened by the computer programming teacher for stealing bottles of water from her.)

The kid tells Jeffo that he better watch his back. Big deal, some kid says watch your back, nothing to sweat we thought.

A couple weeks later, Jeffo is out at a party and finds out that apparently, Mr. Dilly'an brought a gun to school the next day to shoot Jeffo. This kid was going to shoot the Monster for telling on him for stealing a 35 cent fucking carton of milk. It turned out that he didn't shoot Jeffo because the P-Town King Young Spin reasoned with Mr. Dilly'an and said that he had too much to live for. As you can imagine, the Monster was pretty rattled from having Spin tell him that he was going to shoot him.

So at a later date, the Monster decides that he is going to take a stand and wears a bulletproof vest to school. Now we aren't talking like a bullshit piece of plastic; this thing was full out police strength Kevlar. I punched the Monster in the chest while he was wearing it and scraped the skin off my whole hand.

Not only was Jeffo wearing a bulletproof vest, but he also was wearing just a beater, making him look like he could have been a Vato in an East LA Mexican gang.

The funniest part about the story is that Jeffo had to go to the principal's office for wearing the vest in school because they thought it would create hysteria and make people afraid that they were going to get shot in school.

A kid brought a fucking gun to school, and Jeffo gets in trouble for wearing a fucking bulletproof vest to school. Makes a lot of sense. That is why West Allegheny is a piece of shit high school and everyone there now is addicted to hard drugs and has kids in 10th grade.

Congratulations West A on alienating kids that would actually go on to college and have a future. It's okay, the other kids can make alumni donations with crack pipes and welfare checks.

The Rebirth

So I have built quite the following on the Bleacher Report with over 150 thousand reads in less than a month.

The problem is, I'm interested in writing about a lot more things than just sports, which is where TheBoomSpot comes in.

This is the vehicle to talk about all things that make you say boom, whether it be hilarious stories, sports, business, music, movies, hot broads, etc.

Sit back and enjoy the ride because here comes the boom!