Filed under Emails from Scott

Email from Scott – Guys Night

Last Friday, I was sitting in the San Jose airport waiting for a flight to Vegas (wedding-location scouting trip, not degenerate gambling trip) and was checking email on the phone. As I was reading this one, the smile and then laughter gave away who it was from – Jason looked over and said “Must be an email from Scott”.

It started off innocently enough. My old poker buddies were getting together for a night of light drinking and bullshitting. This game ran for 8 years but this is the first time in 2 years we have been in the same room at the same time. For almost 15 years we have all been drinking and partying together and I would put the 14 of us in our prime against any fraternity on campus today or any day in history.

To put it short and sweet we fuck shit up.

We are all older and with the exception of two of us we all are married and have multiple children. It is safe to say that these days we are just older thirty-something’s that have turned in our “rager” cards for Spongebob and Dora the Explorer pajamas and Honor roll bumper stickers. We are past our prime for sure.

We met up at my friend Bryan’s house as his wife and kids had left to go on vacation in San Antonio. It was pretty tame with us passing around pictures of the kids to each other and talking about the upcoming school year. Bryan showed us around his house and we were all happy to see his lifelong dream of having a fully functional bar complete with beer taps has come to fruition. It was a very pretty oak and brass bar with enough room to seat 8 comfortably or 14 really close friends. The Dos Equis started flowing from his fresh Keg that he had gotten just that morning, I remember joking about how it was only 6:30PM and that normally I am making chicken nuggets at this time. We all laughed and traded the same story with a different kids food as the punch line.

After 30 minutes, two beers and a shot of patron for everyone we sat down to play some poker. I have not tossed a card in the air live for over a year and about the same online. Poker has taken a backseat to golf and kids for me. We shot the shit for close to 2 hours while we played and there was no shortage of beer drinking around the table. At some point 4 pizzas showed up and with 14 hungry full grown American males it didn’t last long. I was failed to get a slice as did my old roommate David because we were busy pissing in Bryans water feature in his back yard. While we drained our bladders David mentioned that he felt a little drunk. No worries the game will last a while and he has plenty of time to sober up.

9:00PM and John came in to tell Bryan that there is something wrong with his beer tap. Beer was not coming out and it was making a weird noise. The Keg was floated…

1920 oz in a fresh keg, we are drinking out of 16 oz cups 1920 / 16 = 120 beers / 14 guys. Hmm 8 and a half beers per guy, yeah that sounds right. “Bryan what else you got to drink around this place?” Back in the day Bryan was notorious for his ability to consume brown liquor. Later on in his 20’s he switched to Vodka and could make an old Russian Grandpa proud with his ability to down the stuff. Bryan had no liquor beyond 2 bottles of Patron one of which was close to empty already.

A light bulb came into Bryan’s head. His wife had several bottles of wine that she brought back from the Hill Country on a girls only retreat. They had been sitting in the box she bought them in for over a year and thought this was a great time to break them open. Our Plastic beer cups became wine glasses and we finished playing our first tournament. The wine lasted less than an hour and barely gave everyone more than two cups.

By 10:30PM we were pretty much out of booze in the house so a small group us ventured out to the corner store for a good old fashioned beer run. Back in the old days everyone would toss in some money and we would head down and get a 18 pack of Natty-Light. We are now older, wiser, more refined and have more money. We bought 3 cases of beer and regardless of our current stations in life we automatically picked Natty as if it was just old habits coming back.

Now back at the house the game at deteriorated into a bastardized form of poker where pots were not decided by the cards but by prison rules and ridiculous side bets to determine who was going to drag the pot. I personally drug a $75 pot across the table only to be challenged by the loser in the hand with a proposition. His claim was that he can pull a bong hit, take 2 shots of patron and then exhale… The game came to a halt as it took me all of 3 seconds to accept the challenge.

We poured out onto the back patio eagerly awaiting the outcome of this bold claim. A bong was produced as if out of thin air and when the group was queried with “who’s holding” 5 bags ranging in size and quality hit the patio table.

Side note: While we all smoked weed at one point in college it was never a large group thing. Our clique is a varied cadre of Repubs and Libs, tight asses and free spirits, straight laced captains of industry and lowly waiters. As the bags hit the table the laughter hit the air. We all have gotten old, settled down, had kids and started smoking weed instead of going out nightly to get wasted at bars. It was the most exciting news of the night.

Bong loaded. shots poured. challenge starting. My friend had chosen some shit recently purchased in Colorado and I must admit the smell alone was enough to make me crave ice cream. Fired up, he drew in a deep breath and downed the first shot. As he was reaching for number two his face turned green and a stream of purple-ish yellow-ish tinted puke exploded from his head and onto 2 bystanders. The night was picking up.

As we closed in on 1AM, poker had pretty much been abandoned. We were now throwing dice on the back yard table and passing smoke around to everyone. We were all drunk and while a few of us had fallen off or gone home a good core of 8 of us were still alive and kicking. We started one upping each other on stories and braggadocios claims of manliness in our new lives as parents. The amount of urination taking place on the back yard plants was epic. I am not really clear on how it happened but someone started the conversation about how it would be cool to go to Louisiana to gamble the rest of the night. The idea initially had steam but tapered off as we calculated the math on time traveled to get there and back, play cards, and come back to broken marriages and no visitation rights. The numbers just didn’t add up in the risk versus reward category but while the light of this dream was dimmed it was still burning. Our friend Chris happened to mention that he not only has a pilots license but he also owns his own plane. He is an avid private pilot and would love to fly us to Louisiana if we were really serious they only rule was no horseplay in the plane. While we initially scoffed at this offer after another round of tokes it became clear we were headed to the airport.

Only 5 of us were brave enough to make the trip to the Austin Executive Airport at 2:45 in the morning. During the drive several challenges were laid down and one was accepted. Chris claimed that he was going to make us puke within one hour of the flight taking off. Chris got the plane stuff done ( I am sure that is not the technical term ) and in no time we were buckling in. I do not know the type of plane we were in but it had room for 6 passengers and 2 crew members (pilots seats). Chris offered me a front seat and I was close to accepting when he mentioned that it would have the best view if we ended up crashing the plane. I took a back seat and settled in next to my buddy Dave and his pocket vaporizer. We filled up a balloon and both took quality tugs as the plane taxied towards the runway.

The plane was small. It was getting smaller as we pulled further away from his hangar. It got reallllllly small as he powered up for takeoff and by the time we pulled up it felt like I was wearing a t-shirt that I had stolen from my son. I was happy to know I was not the only one now completely scarred stiff. With the exception of Chris we were all pretty much crying lumps of slovenly drunk babies. I personally was praying for the first time in 25 years openly and loudly. Bryan immediately puked as Chris banked the plane into a turn and the whiff of beer, wine, tequila and pepperoni pizza filled the cabin. This was quite possibly my last moments on earth and all I could think about was that my kids would know their Dad died in a very stupid way. I snapped from my fear coma when I heard Chris mention the words engine, and crash within the same sentence. Chris was of course joking, the plane was not going to crash but he was also well aware there was no way we were going to make it to Louisiana either. He kindly turned the plane around and a mere 25 minutes from the time we took off we were safely back on terra firma. Upon debarking the cabin I promptly fell to the ground puking violently while sobbing gently. We headed back to Bryans house without saying much to each other. I left almost immediately after telling everyone we needed to do this again real soon. Once the echoes of my friends telling me to fuck off and die faded I drove home slightly drunk, little more stoned, extremely tired and covered in my own vomit. I walked in around 5:30 this morning, stripped naked, climbed into a running shower and passed out until 6:45 this morning when my wife found me and reminded me that she is leaving for a week at 8AM AND I have my sons parents meeting with his new teacher today.

I am currently nursing a F5 level hang over.

Emails from Scott: Red Sox vs Astros

If you haven’t noticed yet, either because you’re living under a rock, or you have no interest in baseball and no friends who have an interest in baseball (in which case, I am so so sorry for you) – it’s getting to be baseball time. Pitchers and catchers have reported, Spring Training is underway, and some people are starting to get a little rabid about it.

Having been born and raised in Houston, the Astros are my team; heartbreaking though that often is. I have a fondness for the A’s, due in part to their having Longhorn alum and total hottie Huston Street on their team at the time my baseball obsession began. That fondness has wained somewhat, but JoeSpeaker helps to keep it alive, plus they’re in my new hood more or less. But my secondary team, really, is the Red Sox. Part HBO endlessly playing Fever Pitch during that year this all started, part best friend/boss who was obsessed with the team and would from time to time suggest leaving the office early in order to make it to the bar to watch the Red Sox play. Also there was the cell phone ring tone and the constant score updates. All uber helpful for dating a guy from the Boston area; the groundwork for my fandom having already been laid. Though Scott is not content for the Red Sox to take the #2 slot.

April eventually you are going to have to cut the Astros out of your life. They are like a bad boyfriend that comes over to your house at 2 am after a night of drinking. They are going to fuck you and not call you again until they are drunk. After they leave you there in a pile of unsatisfied womanhood they are going to take all the cash out of your wallet, kick your dog, raid your fridge and steal your panties to show to their friends. They are no good.

Life with the Red Sox is not always satisfying but when they get it right it is the sweetest love making ever. After they are done they offer to make you breakfast while you take a shower and even tidy up the living room for you. Yeah they might not call you everyday but when they do it is special, they remember your birthday. I get why you are hesitant, you have been with the Astros for so long that you think it is ok what they do to you. You think it is not their fault, it is somehow your fault when they hurt you. April you are better than that. You deserve a team with a great pitching staff. You deserve a team that made GREAT offseason moves. You deserve a team that has plugged all their holes in the infield and has gotten the entire roster healthy and ready for the season.

April life between now and October doesn’t have to hurt. It is time for you to let them go and start anew. Red Sox nation is here for you with open arms, willing to accept you and will never bring up your past.

Make the switch April.

I’m not sure if the Red Sox are hiring for a marketing coordinator, but DAMN they should at least consider Scott as an intern.

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Emails from Scott – Valentine’s Day

I have never understood the hate some people feel for Valentine’s Day. It’s a day dedicated to love – what could possibly be wrong with that? Oh sure, it’s commercialized, but so is Christmas. And sure, if your significant other is only getting their act together on this one day to tell you that you’re loved, you’ve likely got a problem. BUT STILL – love and flowers and chocolate! How could anything with all that be BAD?

I know many men find it to be a landmine of epic proportions. Naturally, Scott falls into this group.

So we made a deal on our anniversary not to get each other ANYTHING for V day. This was discussed several times over the last few weeks and she was adamant that I not get her anything and repeated to me until it was drilled into my head…

She woke me up at 2 am and gave me my gift! 2am!!! At a time that 100% guarantees that I cannot go out and get her anything at all. So on the way to work this morning after we dropped off the kids she asks me if I got her anything and if I am just setting up some elaborate something or other… I reminded her that she told me at least 75 times not to get anything and that we swore up and down that this year we were going to stick to it and even promised on our anniversary and sealed it with a kiss.

April & Wendy, one day you both will be married and on behalf of your husband’s I beg you to just tell them what you want instead of expecting them to read your minds and if you do tell them something 75 times and they do exactly what you tell them to do don’t trick them and then get mad at them.

And gentleman, if you feel the same, I’m happy to point out that Wendy is single and agrees:

I would neeeeeeeevvvvvver tell ANYONE to not get me a present… in fact I am kind of pissed that I don’t get presents daily just for being awesome. I also believe it important to just freaking say what you want because the rest of the games and bullshit give me a stomach ache.

Happy love day to all!

I have news

‘Round about last summer I went to Vegas for a weekend, part “see my reporter friends before they hit the downward part of the WSOP”; but bigger part – to meet up with an awesome dude I had met a few months prior, and maybe have a date or two and see if he was as good in person as he was on paper. We had our first date at the MGM West Wing Bar, followed by dinner at Wolfgang Puck’s, then rounded things off with a stop at the craps table because 1) they always seem to put those things RIGHT where you need to be walking, and 2) because he had been in Vegas for almost 12 hours at that point and hadn’t yet gambled other than a sports book bet placed on the NBA Championship, and “needed to feel like he was in Vegas”. So far so good.

He passed the first test with flying colors, so why not just throw him into the advanced class? The next morning there was a brunch with Dawn, then a trip to the Rio and finding an F-Train. Dawn and I then left him at the hooker bar while we explored the Diamond Lounge (which, in hindsight, is probably NOT the place to park a guy you just started dating), and then capped a full day off with a blogger meal – Spaceman, Caity, F-Train, VinNay, Jen. If you can survive that group and not walk away wondering what the hell you have just gotten yourself into, then we’re good, right? Or maybe I’m just so awesome it totally overpowers the sometimes odd antics of my friends.

At any rate, it was a weekend that went very well. As did the one two weeks after that, and the one a month after that, and so and so on. Long story short, the girl who was just a year ago was absolutely-not-looking-or-interested-in-having-any-relationship had herself one. A pretty great one. Complicated only by the fact that he was in California, and me, well, I’m in Texas.

But only for 45 days more. Because you see, it kinda sucks when you’re 2,000 miles away from the person you love more than anything in the world. And it sucks not having them there for the big stuff, the tough stuff, the fun stuff, the day-to-day life stuff. It sucks making a trip to the airport every month, and rearranging your life chores in ways that will maximize your frequent flier miles. It sucks flying in said plane next to a lovey-dovey couple and the turbulence is terrible and a little scary and she keeps hugging on him which makes her feel better; and you, well, you would if you could but you can’t. Because you just left your him. It sucks so much that you might even find yourself willing to leave your family, friends, amazing coworkers, life as you know it, and relocate to a part of the world that you’ve always loved, but understand they have some weird geophysical thing going on that sometimes shakes buildings and stuff without any warning. Also, they don’t have Tex-Mex. Or Whataburger. I really don’t get how people live.

Vegas and I will find out though, as we load up into the Mustang and start the drive to our new home. We’ll be traveling in March, and you know, Arizona is totally on the way, so perhaps I will now finally get to say I have been to Spring Training. Naturally, Scott was one of the first people I told, and naturally, he had questions.

1. You got a job or are you just going to be living off your looks as a trophy for your new man?

2. Will you be supporting local sports teams or like a good woman switch your allegiances to your mans favorites?

3. You are not pregnant now but when do you expect to be?

While I no doubt would make an excellent trophy, I’ll leave that status to Vegas instead, and am working on the whole work thing now. I will always be a fan of Houston teams, and while I may attend the occasional A’s game in honor of JoeSpeaker, I’m not really interested in the Giants and honestly didn’t realize the 49ers were still playing football. Jason’s teams are the Patriots and RedSox, one of which I was already well on board with due to Scott’s influence and some movie. The other, well, I can be convinced. I now have to learn about basketball and hockey. I’ve been to one hockey game so far; made all the better by the team mascot and the fact that hot chocolate is a totally acceptable sporting event beverage. Scott likes to mention pregnancy because he’s dying for cool parents that he can hang out with while the kids play, but as I keep reminding him, I will not be joining that club anytime soon. I make an awesome aunt though.

I’m excited. It’s a big change, and I know as it gets closer it’s going to get a whole lot more REAL, and I’ve tried to prepare all those close to me for the inevitable crying and freak outs. It’s absolutely the right thing to do though, and I don’t doubt it for a second. I love this man more than I ever imagined I could. One of the good things about long-distance relationships is that you get to the big issues fast, and communication is paramount and doubly important – all really good things to build on. I am, however, scared that it’s been the long-distance that has actually made us work – but I also know there’s no one I’d rather be with at the end of the day, every day. Luckily, I get to be.

Emails from Scott #2

If you so happen to find yourself in Austin, TX this weekend and are in need of a cheap diversion, Scott has a suggestion.

W, now that you got your meds under control you need to start coming drinking with me. My new thing is Sunday night at Bull McCabe’s because no one is really there and I like to sit on the porch and play “Homeless person Scavenger hunt” for cigarettes. I send them all over looking for things like traffic cones and bicycles and reward them with smokes equal to the item they bring me. Only rules you have to remember are,

1. Homeless people will do anything for a Newport so don’t say things like go rob someone and bring me their wallet because they will

2. Never give more than 2 smokes out at time or the homeless people will flock to you like pigeons.

3. Be creative with your tasks. I got a homeless man to make me a giraffe out of foil he found in front of the pizza place

4. Always give extra rewards to the crippled homeless, they go above and beyond.

5. Make sure the tasks are doable, don’t tell the schizophrenics to go find God because they never come back.

Can I pencil you in for this Sunday?

Emails from Scott – the beginning

Starting a new feature on the blog; one that I hope you find as amusing as I do. I get emails from Scott Mc almost every day, because I rarely turn on the Yahoo chat and our friendship requires that we communicate over the most mundane. I’ve asked him time and time again to start blogging again; turning his rants and social commentary into posts. He consistently refuses, stating that I am the muse & target audience anyway. So, this is the next best thing.

If you’ve met ScottMc before, you’ll likely miss him after reading these. If you’ve not yet had the honor, well, I’m just glad I have several folks who can back me up on that he is 100% real.


How was Christmas?

Not too bad. My Dad came in Christmas morning to drop off gifts for the kids. He managed to do all his shopping at what appears to be a Chinese Flea market. All the Toys were knock off’s of regular toys. So like instead of Hungry Hungry Hippos we got Hungry Hungry Puppies. Abby ate 2 of the marbles from it before we stopped her.

I got Connor a remote controlled pitching machine that is voice activated and can also give him fielding practice and outfield practice. He got a Leapster 2 from Granny which is basically kid crack. He has been locked in his tent for 4 days playing it.

The Baby girls got dolls and clothes. This now brings the doll/stuffed animal count in my house to 3,546,721,536. All of which no longer have clothes on them so it looks like a party at Charlie Sheens house but with dolls. Everything is naked and has messed up hair and is laying in the corner discarded.

I got socks and underwear but also scored a nice new jacket and a Tam hat that fits quite well.

I ended up getting a little buck wild at Sephora. One of the in house gays that was working the floor saw me coming a mile away and drug me all over. $225 later I had enough smell good stuff and make up to stock the cabinets for a good 6 months.