Gator Bait

Welcome back everyone!  After my week long hiatus, I’m back and ready to share more stories.  A quick reminder that this Tuesday is Correspondence Tuesday.  Please send me any questions and comments you have to zacharywermers@creighton.edu and I’ll put them into Tuesday’s post. 

As many of you know, this weekend, I went to my first Florida Gators game in The Swamp.  It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. Between the tailgate set-ups and the game itself, I could not have been more impressed. To shake things up a bit, today’s post will be a photo essay…this might also help to keep AB’s attention as I know he likes stories with pictures.

This is me and RT at roughly 8:30 am with our first beers of the day.  Since this was my first SEC tailgate, I had to ask what the acceptable attire was…and as you can see jersey and backwards hat was the consensus (big thanks to RT for providing the jersey).  We posted up in an area that could only be described as a green in the middle of campus.  There were collegiate buildings all around us…this was not a parking lot…this was a park.  It was beautiful.

Where to begin… These fellas were absolutely hysterical.  First off, apparently the big joke in the SEC is that all Gator fans wear Jhorts…so in an effort to embrace the stigma, these guys went out and got themselves some of the most obnoxious jean shorts that money and dull scissors can produce.  The guy in the blue Tebow jersey bought his jhorts with an elastic band…I can’t begin to express how happy I was with this.  Second of all, in the top picture, these fine men are making a concoction known as Kaboobalies.  Kaboobalies are a mixture a handle of Gin, 2-2 Liters of Squirt (if you can still find it at your local grocer), 3 freshly squeezed limes, and 3 freshly squeezed lemons.  It impressed.  Third of all, notice the picture in the middle.  Apparently there was a pact several years ago that they would all get matching tattoos…apparently the two guys on the right went together and the guy on the left backed out.  After some heavy drinking, they goaded him into finally making good on their pact…the picture really speaks for itself.

I included these pictures to show you all that we were, indeed, in the middle of campus for this tailgate…you can see the bell tower in the background, in the pic on the left, along with a statue that is apparently new…and hideous.  Pictured in the straw hat was our amazing host for the weekend.  I slept on his couch, used his ID to pass as a UF student so I could use student section tickets, and he is the one who handed me a piece of duck wrapped in bacon…which quickly turned into my favorite moment ever.

(side story:  I didn’t get many pictures of the other tailgates, but they were absolutely ridiculous.  Everyone had a full pit bbq grill, satellite dish, and at least 3 TV’s that would have rivaled the 55” from 39^th and Cass!   I was told that these were all the “less rich” alumni and that there is an area near the stadium that is only for donors who donate $250,000+ to the University…apparently that’s where the “big” tailgates were happening…I cannot imagine how that section must have looked.)

  

A few hours into the festivities, and the shirts are off!  Despite what looks like perfect form in this picture, I was the weak link to team SD on the bags. We lost about $30 to the guys in jhorts from above And for those of you who are asking out loud: “Zach, tell me you didn’t lose to the Chinese exchange student standing next to you…has she even played before?!?!”  The answer is yes, we lost to the exchange student and no she had never played before.  Let it be known that this is my formal and public apology to RT for dropping the ball on this one.

 

Alright, enough ballyhoo.  THESE WERE OUR #$%#@#$ SEATS!!!  If you’ve ever watched a Gator game on TV and seen the orange wall that says “This is Gator Country”  I was right in front of that.  On top of that, The Swamp is absolutely awesome! It seats roughly 90,000 people and is known as one of the loudest stadiums in the nation.  The picture on the bottom is of Coach Muschamp aka Coach Boom coming over to acknowledge the student section after the big win against Tennessee…Go Gators!

After the game, RT and I decided to go up to the top of the stadium and get some pics.  As I’ve said repeatedly throughout this post, I was completely impressed with UF and the set-up of the whole day.  I can’t wait to go back in two weeks for the Florida vs Alabama game and do it all over again.

See you all back here Tuesday!!  

Had a great weekend, but nothing really story worthy for the blog.  I've decided to take a week-long hiatus from writing.  I'll make up for it with a long post about my first Florida Gators game at the Swamp next weekend^ See you all back here in a week.

SCT-VI

Alright everyone!  Since I only gave you two posts this week, I'll make up for it with 2 (yes 2^) stories for SCT!  The first one comes to us from an anonymous writer so I will only say that this story comes from XX in America!  Enjoy!:

So after reading this blog the last few weeks now I decided in the best interest of the followers to share an intimate story of my life. I was going to bury this awkward/embarrassing/gross story in my subconscious for all eternity... But then I thought, eh…what the hell

So here it goes! I had just moved into my new place after accepting a new job, I was excited. I had my two cousins come help kick off the new job at the new place. My roommate was out of town, so we decided to get way too drunk way too fast and head out to the bar scene.

So long story short, I get a sext (for all of you non-tech savvy people this is a text with sexual undertones, idiots), and it is from a girl I use to hang out with/sorta date/never really ended things with before I left for my new job #iamanidiot.

She decides to come out to the bar we are at under one condition, I pay her taxi fee (obviously I was drunk and texted a creative smiley face and told her to come on over). From here on out, the night gets pretty blurry, we hang out, she gives me speeches about how we should be together but it can’t happen now, I am obviously just drinking as much as I can during this.

Flash forward 5-7 hours, it’s about 8am, I wake up to this nice lady on the phone with an angry man. I am confused, where am I?  Oh, I am at my new place of residence, but how did I get here? Why is she here? Where are my clothes?

Anyway, whoever this girl is on the phone with is pissed. I ask her (like a gentlemen) if she would like me to call her a taxi. She gives me an evil look and informs me that she has a ride. From her boyfriend. Who she just moved in a condo with. Cool. Wait, what?

So at this point I am thinking ok, I am still drunk. I can’t (nor do I want to) fight anyone sub 9am, who do you think I am? Zach Wermers? (Editor’s note: how dare you!) So she gets in her outfit from the previous night, and out she goes (I asked if she wanted me to walk her out, she did not think this was funny)

So the aftermath? First of all I did not know this nice lady was involved, so if you’re judging, get over it. Secondly, she let me know that things were on the rocks with this new boy, and that the truth was told (I wish she would fill me in too, because I have not the slightest idea of what happened that night).

Currently, I am safe. No one has showed up to my house to kill me, and I have not talked to this nice lady since. Did I buy a weapon for self protection? I feel like that answer is obvious at this point.

I hope you all enjoyed this story.

aaaaaannnnndd our second story comes from LS in WV! Enjoy!:

So this past Thursday another student at the clinic with me, JC, her CI (JS) and another PTA we work with decide that we should go out to celebrate the last week of JC working there.  JS played rugby at WVU and had been a bouncer at just about every bar in Motown(yes I am using a sweet slang name for this fabulous city in WV) so he decides that he’s going to take us to a few of them.  SO, JC and I go out for dinner and have a couple glasses of wine before heading to meet the rest of our co-workers at the bar.

Bar 1(I’ll hit the high points): We order our beer and I notice that there is a sticker on the wall behind the bar that states “F@#$ your local bartender”. I thought it was totally rational to then ask the bartender who happens to be wearing torn jeans and a camo WVU hat,

LS: so are you my local bartender?

Bartender: yes…why? 

LS: well that sticker instructs us to f@#$ our local bartender so I was just making sure that was you!

Bartender: <smirk> 

JC:<laughing hysterically>

JS: seriously Lindsay?<insert jaw drop> Coming from a guy that would sound like a lame pick-up line!

LS: but it’s ok from me, right?

JS: <insert shoulder shrug>

To this same bartender I also mentioned, later when I found out that is was ladies night, that I wanted to know the ladies night specials. His reply was “when you act like a lady I’ll give you a special”

Touche fine sir…touché.

Bar 2(the last one I’ll mention): I order 2 vodka sprites, I receive 1 rum and sprite, and 1 tequila sprite…not wanting to complain I drink them both regardless. After finishing I again order 2 vodka sprites…this time I watch her make them and see that the bottle clearly says RUM on it. After she finishes I inform her of the mistake, so she gave me those for free and starts to make 2 more…with the same RUM bottle.  This time I stop her and tell her that just because the liquid is clear in the bottle that doesn’t make it vodka…she wasn’t too happy with that comment. But I finally got the drinks I wanted and I woke up the next day, reeking of booze and attempting to treat patients…good times with the hill people!

That's if for this week everyone!  See ya back here on Sunday

Destin(ation) Weekend

Alright welcome back everyone!  I hope you enjoyed your 3 day weekend (for those of you who had a 3 day weekend).  As I mentioned before, I hastily planned a trip up to Destin to see my good friend RT who lives in the area.  What I did not anticipate was Tropical Depression Lee wreaking havoc on the beaches and leaving me unable to get a tan over the holiday weekend.  So what did I do this weekend?  Well read on impatient blog reader…read on.

I drove up on Friday and made it into Niceville fairly late…onto Saturday.  Saturday began as all Saturday’s in September begin…with me craving football.  Because RT had to work until 5, I decided to make my way to a sports bar to catch all the games I could.  Now, there are no shortage of sports bars in the Destin area, but on this day, there was not a spot in any of them.  I literally spent 2 hours driving around Destin looking for a spot to grab a beer…turns out, a 3 day weekend mixed with rain storms, mixed with the relatively centralized location of Destin is a bad combination for a kid from SoDak (who doesn’t know any better) to watch football games.  Thankfully I found a spot in TGI Fridays (and they had IPA…which was nice).  After a few beers (and after RT showed up post work), I began to sing the Florida Gators fight song…poorly…which provoked a few Seminole fans to yell some brash insults in my general direction.  It was at this time that RT decided it was time to go.

Later that night, we made our way to an area known as Baytowne (which I chronicled in an earlier post).  We went there because there was a band playing who’s lead singer/guitarist had taught himself how to play guitar in less than a year…and when I say he taught himself to play guitar in less than a year…I mean, he was literally able to play the guitar so well that he played it in 4 different ways besides the regular way.  He played it 1.) Behind his back, 2.) While standing behind a smoking hot blonde, 3.) With his feet, and 4.) With his teeth.  This is the part of the post where I tell you he was also autistic and had 3 girlfriends. (Note: and this is the part of the post where you all nod and say to yourselves “that makes sense”)

So while the band was doing its thing and Wisconsin Lunchboxes were flowing, RT and I began to discuss high school.  More importantly, we began to discuss who could beat up whom at this point in our lives.  For those of you who know me, I’m not the kind of person who thinks he’s going to lose…at anything…ever.  Long story short, I lost a wrestling match which allegedly took place in a courtyard and lasted roughly 30 seconds after I repeatedly hit RT in the ear (again…allegedly).  Seeing this disturbance, a short, out-of-shape, 40-something by-stander asked us where we were from and if we would mind wrestling him…now I don’t have the urge to wrestle random strangers…especially fat shirtless men who boisterously claim they wrestled at Iowa…but RT does.  So RT and this “golf ball” (aptly nicknamed because he is as tall as he is wide and has weird body dimples) get into their match. “Golf Ball” starts to taunt RT the following “conversation” took place:

Golf Ball: “you ain’t gonna shoot!”

RT (shoots):  “aahhh! Take down bitch”

Golf Ball: “That was so cheap!”

RT (with his elbow hooked around Golf Ball’s neck): “How was that cheap? You dared me to shoot!”

Golf Ball (with what AS in Chicago would call and OVER-reaction): “YOU WANNA SHOOT!? I’LL GO GET MY .44 AND WE’LL SEE WHO WANTS TO SHOOT!!!”

At this point, RT let go and we decided events had gone a little too far.  Thankfully, Golf Ball had a friend who sort-of took him away.  Of course, this was not before he yelled more about how cheap RT was…to which I responded with a provoking “I remember my first wrestling match!” (note: this was stupid)  After they left, we decided not to stick around to find out whether he actually had a gun…and besides…it was getting late.

The next morning we had to wake up early to pick up RT’s 2 year old son…who is awesome (and loves to play Angry Birds...pretty sure he beat several of my high scores when he borrowed my iPhone).  The 3 of us went to a place called Buffalo’s Reef which had the vaunted claim of serving hot wings with the original recipe that was used at the Anchor Bar in Buffalo, New York (the place that invented buffalo wings)  We sat down and perused the menu noting that there are hot wings and “super” hot wings.  The hot wings…were delicious.  They were spicy, flavorful, and amazing.  When mixed with their home-made bleu cheese dressing, I dare say they are the best wings that can be produced with human hands.  The “super” hot wings on the other hand…let me tell you about these “super” hot wings.

The “super” hot wings come with simple unassuming warning “If you order SUPER HOT wings, you’d better be PREPARED.”  After reading the warning and listening to the waitress tell me not to order them…I ordered the minimum count of ten and eagerly awaited their arrival.  (At this point, I didn’t know that they use pure Capsaicin membrane (which is the purest form of what makes up the pungency of a hot pepper…you can’t get hotter than this) and then cut it with their hot sauce…no, this would be explained to me after I tried the wings.)  When they were placed in front of me, I grabbed one and took a nice big bite…it tasted horrible.  It literally tasted like death…but the heat hadn’t hit me yet, so I took another big bite…then…all at once, my body seized up.  I started dripping sweat and my arms instinctively threw the rest of the wing down onto the table.  My mouth felt like someone took the sun, condensed it down to a bite size piece and then dressed it up in a cute little chicken wing costume.  My eyes puffed out, tears dripped down my face, my nose began to run, and worst of all my lips turned a weird shade of purplish-red (note: my lips are still raw from all the skin I lost…over share?...too bad!  I was in agony!).  To make matters worse, every sip of beverage I took down was like gasoline (both in taste and effect on my mouth).

(Side story: I now have 9 “super” hot wings left over in my fridge if anyone is hungry.  Just send me your address and they’re yours…I won’t even charge you for shipping.  Just promise to video tape yourself eating it and we’ll call it even)

Sunday night ended with RT and I watching Hell’s Kitchen for hours on end.  After the first episode, we made a drinking game where you have to take a drink every time Chef Ramsay says Risotto…I dare anyone to successfully play make it through the first 4 episodes of this season while playing this game with their dignity intact…I repeat…I DARE YOU. (Note: I now expect to get roughly 15 texts next weekend telling me that you all tried the game...and got owned)

Overall it was a great weekend!  RT was a fantastic host and we solidified some plans to catch a couple Gator games in the next month or so.  Battling TD Lee on my way back east through the panhandle kept my drive back to the HLC interesting, but I made it!  I think I doubled the amount of rain I’ve seen in my life on that one trip.  We already have a story for SCT this week so you’re all off the hook.  See you back here in a couple days!

SCT-V

We'll get to SCT in a minute, but first I want to lay-out some important happenings on this day.  First of all, it's the first day of the college football season which means August is FINALLY over.  Second of all, today, September 1st, is the day that the Tampa Bay Brewing Company tapped its Octoberfest...if you haven't started celebrating yet, now is the time.

Onto this week's SCT.  This week's story comes to you from CM in TN!  Enjoy^

Prior to moving to TN, I had some semi-serious plans to find a southern gentleman during my five month stay, unfortunately my male patient population has reversed this plan. First problem, I cannot stand male southern accents, and in addition I cannot understand what they are saying most of the time because all of the words slur together. Eventually I figured out that perhaps it is better I do not understand what my male patients are saying due to the content of their comments. Examples of inappropriate comments made by my older male patients include:

-          Comments directed towards me during a conversation about plastic surgery: “Promise me you will not ever change anything about that behind of yours.” My response back as I walked away, “You have one more set of straight leg raises and then we will do some walking.”

-          The standard “If I was 40 (yes 40) years younger, I would be really inappropriate.” Sweet

-          “Hey I am going to find you on facebook ok, but since facebook hates me and has disabled my ability to friend people, I will just ‘poke’ you first, and then you can friend me.” (I now dread pokes and friend requests)

-          Inappropriate pet names I have been called so far include: Baby, sweetie, babydoll, sweet cheeks, pumpkin, TNT, and dynamite. I cannot stand these names, especially the last two.

Another issue that has arisen is one of the male janitors has taken a liking to me. I was informed this weekend by one of my co-workers that this janitor has had some “issues” before. Issues including attempting to kiss a student in the elevator before, yes she was TRAPPED. I have been taking the stairs a great deal recently. Today I received an invitation to go to the movies with him some time, to which I responded to with a nervous laugh as I walked away.

Things are looking up though down here in TN, I found several southern gentlemen this weekend who are under the age of 60 (unlike my patients), unfortunately I still cannot understand what they are saying. But let’s honest, I don’t listen very well anyway. 

And that's all for this week!  I'm heading up to the Destin area for the weekend to make some bad decisions with RT.  As this is the Labor Day weekend, I'll be skipping the Sunday post and just post the weekend's happenings on Tuesday (I know you're upset...but I'm not a big fan of cramming 3 posts into a 4 day stretch.  Trust me, it's better this way.)  Have a great weekend everybody!