Booze, Balls, and Buffalo Wings. . . With a Side of Mustache

Blogging: I thought it would be easy. Boy was I wrong.   How could it be that hard though? Simply set aside some time each day, and type away at the computer. I've got lot's to say about a myriad of different topics, and this should be the perfect forum for it. If people like what i have to say, they can read along; if they don't then they don't have to read.  The best part is that either way, i get to write what i think and feel. The problem is that i haven't been writing consistently and I need to get my butt in gear. The last post was Sunday night and its already Wednesday. Where does the time go and why can't i find just a little bit more of it to share what's happened the last couple of days? The last few posts should have been on food, drink, or the world around me (politics, environment, philosophy, etc.). Today's topic is entertainment, but there doesn't seem to be to much out there right now. Lindsay Lohan gets in another car wreck, and Kappa Sigma loses one of its own to the chapter celestial in NFL films' Steve Sabol, but other then that its pretty bleak out there. I think I'll combine Monday and Tuesday's topic's into today's read by what can only be described as total debauchery Monday and Monday night.

So Monday afternoon was the 9th Annual Field House Golf tournament.  The Field House is one of our local college bars (of the two), and if you've never been there you should: it's small, it's unique to say the least, and its ours.  Its the first bar i snuck into when i was in college, and it's still the same one i belly up to at night when the old lady let's me off the leash for a few hours.  That being said, although neither the bar nor my house has gotten any farther away, i have gotten older, so making the trek into the city each night from the burbs seems to get longer and longer, and harder and harder to make. But i digress. I play in the tournament every year. The tournament is always for a good charity and it's always a fun time. I play with the same 3 guys every year. It's something we look forward to every year.  We see each other quite a bit, but this is a little different. For us it's an event, not a normal occurrence, and should be treated as such. We never win, but we have lot's of fun and this year was no different. You start drinking at noon, and you finish drinking when you can't drink any longer. I made it to about 1am this year, and some year it was.

Booze
So let's start with the first "B" of the day; booze. normally I'd beer snob it up for most special outings. A nice IPA or maybe a newly bottled Octoberfest? Not for this tournament. I'm off the leash, and It's round after round of the freshest and coldest name brand beer they can find. I'm a Miller Lite man myself, and they didn't let me down. There a $1 a can and we drink as many as they can hand out. The more you drink, the better looking the cart girls look. The more I drink, the better my left handed crap golf game tends to look.  And not to get off topic, but golf is a stupid game, designed by ridiculous, rich,  right-handed white people in order to. . . .enough of that.  When the tournaments over, we head back to the Field House for prizes and awards that we're certainly not going to win, and for more drinks. No beer switching allowed. It's weird, because in the burbs' every guy i know has a mini fridge filled with beer. Some exotic, some just regular ol' Bud Light, but every guy has a mini fridge. Why? Why is our beer either regulated to it's own fridge away from the kids' milk and juice boxes or the old lady's diet soda's? Either that or every guy in the burbs tries to out due the other guy with the largest mini fridge, or separate "beer only" garage fridge. We're all apes guys, and we're just trying to out pound our chests over the other guys. Beer fridges' is just another way of doing it. Anyway, we drank it all and it showed later on.

Balls

I touched on it a bit earlier, and i won't spend a lot of time on it, but golf is dumb. It's really dumb for us lefties. Growing up, I had no interest in the game. Never really learned it, but at some point, it just became something i was supposed to do. Live in the burbs' = golf. Not a lot. Not country club, Ty Webb/Judge Smails type of golfing. We're talking cut off shorts, hack away, curse, break clubs, drink beer, and pretend you know what you're doing golfing. I've gotten better each year, because I'm playing more and more. Get older, play more golf. From time to time, I get to call 4 hours away from home a "business trip" or "charity event" and it gets me a little leeway. This tournament would fall into the "charity event" category. We started off well this year to. Usually we hack away and try and finish before we're to drunk to drive a golf cart, but this year we came to play. 4 under after 5 holes and looking good. Then the wheels fell off. A few shots here's, a couple more beers there, then its goodbye golf shot and hello mister course warden. We managed to not get kicked off, but i think that's mainly because our cart was to fast and we were to slippery to be apprehended by said course warden. He's like 90 and were weren't going down without a fight. Suffice it to say, no prizes for us again this year. Maybe next year we'll really try. . . .who am i kidding right?

Buffalo Wings
So we've been drinking since noon and it's about 7pm at this point.  The tournament's over and we're all back at the watering hole for prizes. There's a hundred guys and gals packed into this bar and we've all got 7 good hours of liquid time in us.  They start handing out the prizes, but i pay no attention, all i can see is wings. Tables full of beautiful buffalo wings, and they look beautiful. They usually do BBQ beef and some beans and potato salad, which is nice, but it bears no resemblance to the glory that is the buffalo wing. Where beer is our wine in suburbia, wings are our bread, and i bow down to both. Every football game deserves them, and MNF on the big screen and a good round of golf down the hatch, it was time to feast. Parmesan garlic, Spicy Garlic, mild, medium, hot, and 3 mile island: they had it all. Guy after guy lined up, heaping plate after heaping plate of glorious wings. Talking stopped, gorging commenced, and there wasn't a safe arm in the house. Gallons of blue cheese and ranch, sopping up every tender morsel of fat and meat one could stomach. I ate what seemed like 20 and probably could have eaten 20 more, until and idea was hatched at the table. "Let's Leave", said a buddy of mine. To where? To do what i thought? "Let's go down the street to Kirby's and catch this band", he said. A plan was hatched.

Side Of Mustache'
First, let me say that everyone got home safely. Everyone love's having fun, but I'm a grown ass man with kids, a wife and a mortgage. I gots' responsibilities yo, and with all the fun we have, still have to get home in 1 piece. Second, the booze, balls, and buffalo wings all made for a really great time. I'm glad the wife is so understanding when i have days like this, but we look forward to the tournament every year and it was a lot of fun. Thanks to the Field House for putting it on. Third, a big shout out to my buddy Antimosity. He's a local musician here in Wichita and he's been holding it down for a while now. He's always good, but I've seen his show before and i grew up with the guy.  This however was a pleasant surprise. I'll set it up, then you'll get the rest. We walk a block or so down to Kiby's which is the 2nd of only two bars located near our college campus. It seats no more then 20 maximum, and even with the new patio they put on it, its as small and dive bar like as they get.  It's also a local and national institution.  If you start a band, and you're going to play somewhere, you start and finish at Kirby's. The rest is just talk, but Andy D, he was the pleasant surprise of the evening: