Smile Politely

That’s quite a weird opening you have

Well, a week ago Monday, we all had snow up to our ass cracks, so this past Monday, of course, had to be opening day for baseball. This was the 2nd annual opening day celebration for a group of people who would rather drink beer all day long than go to work. It’s one of those things that always seems fun before and during, but often seems absolutely stupid afterward. This year was no exception. Let’s get it on.

Here’s a picture of us in the happier afternoon time, you know, before the dry heaving started.


My day began about 7 a.m. I’d initially thought I might get up and go to the gym at 6 a.m. just to sort of jumpstart my day. This, obviously, seemed like a terrible idea once the clock struck six o’clock. I thought with some exercise I could maybe get my drinkability up to 99.8% for the day instead of the 99.6% it normally sits at. Instead, I sampled about half of the Italian beef I’d made for the little party. I generally know it’s going to be a good day when my breakfast consists of nothing but meat.

The official festivities didn’t get underway at Brass Rail until 9 a.m., so I had a couple of hours to fill. Usually if I have a couple of free hours, I relax and have a couple of beers, but such a thing really isn’t possible when the essence of your plan is drinking at 9 a.m. Instead, I played video games and wondered to myself if there was really even a reason to shower before I left the house that day.


Finally the clock struck 9 and I freaked out because I had dicked around and not been waiting at the door when Foty opened. I quickly grabbed a coat and made it there by 9:15, which is pretty good, but still sort of disappointing because I missed, like, 15 minutes of drinking. Brian and Trevor were already there and I could be wrong but I think they shot me a look because I was so late. It could just be that they don’t care for me. Actually, it was probably both.

I know what you’re thinking: so then you idiots just sat there and drank for three hours until the games started? Well, of course not. This day wasn’t just about getting ripped to the tits and watching baseball.

Instead, we had scheduled a series of informative lectures to be given throughout the day. This year we chose to focus on “The Economic Impact of the Civil War.” There was also a bonus session on how to correctly spell “Appomattox” and “Antietam.” No, but seriously, we pretty much just sat there and drank until the games started. It was weird because there really isn’t a lot to do at a bar at 9 a.m. besides drink. Playing pinball even seemed sort of pedestrian.

It was also way too early to start eating and there were only three of us so far, but we did finally decided to bust open a bag of pretzel rods. I knew Brian had brought those because he’s a fellow who enjoys rods of all kinds. He even left a few for people to eat. Besides that, we talked about Smokey and the Bandit and tried not to smoke a pack of cigarettes before noon.

Eventually, people began filtering in. After they were briefly chided for not be able to read a fucking clock, the party really got going. A few people were more eager to party than others because they had just got done participating in Lent the previous day. There was a heated debate on whether people could have started technically drinking again the Saturday before Easter or if they were expected to wait until Sunday. The general consensus was that one can begin cocktailing only after Jesus has come out of his cave, seen his shadow, and then announced that it’s only five weeks until Christmas.

The first game of the day finally came on, the Yankees versus the Red Sox. It was such an epic event that it was hard for the crowd to contain their indifference. It was still better than watching the snow fall on an empty PNC park, but really, not all that much. It was sometime around here where we decided it might be best to get something in our stomachs, you know, before everyone died of alcohol poisoning. There was potato salad and Italian beef and gumbo and curry and ribs, then for dessert we all had twelve more beers.

Of course, the party really got going once we played a Rush rock block on the jukebox during the Cubs game. It’s weird that we all had time to drink all day and watch baseball and listen to Rush, what with all those girls wanting to have sex with us. Anyway, the Cubs managed to hold off the Pirates, but the Cubs fans were still not completely convinced they had officially won. They are really gun-shy when it comes to declaring victory these days.

My plan was not to be available to watch my beloved Cardinals play that day because their game didn’t start until 9 p.m. I miraculously managed to stay up and out until that game was on, but quite honestly, I don’t really remember watching much of it.


I woke up bright and early on Tuesday morning. I didn’t initially feel super great, but the fact that I managed to wake up at all was sort of inspiring. For a guy who’d ate a whole bunch the day before, I certainly was hungry. I got a ride to my car and then headed to Schnucks for some grub. I managed to get out of there without vomiting on the conveyor belt, which was also sort of inspiring.

I had a brief bout of dry heaves later in the morning, which I like to see as God’s way of letting me know I did great yesterday. If I hadn’t had done well, it might have been actual vomit.


I Goggled “unchoke a hooker” and not surprisingly, there were no results … because, you know, that’s something you just can’t do.

I don’t really want to kidnap anyone, but I have to say, making a ransom note seems like it would be a fun rainy day activity.

Buona sera, senorina, kiss me goodnight.

More Articles