Monday, May 8, 2017

Tokyo - May 7


I was going to write about this awesome unreal day I had in Hankone and Lake Haji. Like the chillest most peaceful, beautiful day I've had in years. A 10/10 awesome day that I won't soon forget. It was DOPE. But last night was one of those stars align nights that you really only have like a few times in a lifetime. 


This post just isn't going to flow. Period, full stop. I have a bunch of things to say and they're all fractured. It's kind of like Tokyo. Everywhere you look is something totally unique, separate from its surroundings. 

  • I got yelled at for standing in line incorrectly at a ramen place. 
  • Twice. 
  • The line girl is my Japanese nemesis. Kevin thought if we had one more disagreement I was getting tossed like Ron Gardenhire. 
  • We got pulled to the front or the line to order and you order on a pop machine basically. It was so bright and loud and the world felt like it was collapsing on me. I felt like an alien. I had no idea what to do. I ordered the number 1 because that's what you do. 


  • The ramen place was so efficient. I was boggled. There was a wait of about 30 mins to get in, the line was out the door and around the corner, the place full, and the cooks? Ho hum. No big deal. At home, the place would be in chaos. 
  • I'm bad at social interactions in general - that goes tenfold for Japan. I know two words of Japanese. You can see how that may be an issue.

  • I had a Kevin Malone moment at Starbucks. I like forgot how the coins work and unsuccessfully tried to pay. The cashier took them from my hand for me. 

  • In Shinjuku, a waiter was asking us whether he should bring the check for us. The place was closing. He walked over and just started into what felt like a diatribe. My brain recognized it, roughly, as “bejdhebdkdbejfbdjdbdkfbdidbrkfb?” I just said, “I don't know what you just said, dude, but I'll give you some money.”

  • A lot of people wear what I call SARS masks here. It's weird but I'm getting used to it. I bet wearing a SARS mask is like when your mom makes you wear a bike helmet. 

  • No one seemed stressed out that it was Sunday night at Tokyo Central. I was kind of stresses out by how not stressed they were. 

Kevin said he was out of gas.  Cooked.  He was Mel Clark in Angels in the Outfield.  Laboring in the 8th, 156 pitches.  We were walking back from Shinjuku toward our 2 square foot airbnb after getting one drink.  Sunday night, everything was closed.  We got to a bar at 10:30 and they served us, but not before letting us know that last call was 10:45.  Drink up, get the fuck out.  Right after, he called it.  I was disappointed to be honest.  I still had some juice left in the tank.  But i could see going home.  Long day ahead.  Check out of airbnb. Train to osaka.  Find the new airbnb.  Yeah yeah yeah.  

And then it hit me.  I’m just going to Golden Gai solo.  Figure it out.  I still wanted to get into some shit.  

We separated about 11:00 pm.  I walked into the first bar in Golden Gai from which I heard English.  The rest is history.  Truly a night to remember.

I don't know if I've explained Golden Gai yet. 

It's like the footprint of one or two city blocks at home. I'm a rich American who has never set foot in a slum, but it feels like an ideal version of a slum. Narrow. Dense. Bars only. No food. Each place seats less than ten people. The doors stay open, but there really aren't windows. They're really dark. The bars are like if a booth at CC Club was a whole bar. It's gritty and grimy and scanned knees and dirt under fingernails. It's touristy, but in a good way. My favorite type of people are attracted to it. 

I drank sake and smoked cigarettes with a Czech guy. It was his last night it Tokyo before heading back to reality. He was a quieter fellow and often times sat in the background and just took in the scene, only piping up if he had something meaningful to say. 

He had a YouTube video with like 2 million views of him playing piano “Skyfall” in Prague. The bar owner let him get the aux going to listen to it. 

I drank beers and ripped menthols with a couple who were about 30 years old. Guy lived in London, grew up in Crimea. He had, no hyperbole, the most delightful accent I have ever heard. I felt like I was in a bar drinking with NPR. The woman was from Florence, Italy. She lived in London too. Both people were really inquisitive about American culture. We talked about Hibbing. We talked about the States as a whole. We talked about how Trump happened. They asked where my Bible and gun were. Ha, ha, ha. 

We compared weed in Colorado and Washington to hanging out in Amsterdam and just learned about like casual drug culture. He said he was on a bachelor party in Amsterdam where they were biking thru the city. They got to a place, one went in to order and the others stayed outside locking up their bikes. 

They forgot whether they were coming or going. They stood next to the bikes with locks in hand for an hour. Their buddy drank all 4 pints and then came outside and said “what the fuck, you guys?”

(Aside) You know how they say “mate” in Australia? Or “chap” in England? For us, it's buddy. I was visiting a buddy. My buddy this. My buddy that. It never occurred to me that it's so cultural. Perspective snuck up on me last night. 

Anyway, I told him the story of me getting unbelievably stoned and going to a CU-CSU game at Mile High Stadium and being afraid of falling on the field. Trading war stories for the extremely privileged. 

I met this dude Jason who was from SF by way of Athens, GA. He is a musician. His bands are called Marathon States and Hard Girls. The past year or so I've gotten so much more info music than I ever was. I've started going to shows and listening to stuff that I've never heard of. Like I used to just listen to a lot of Drake. 

Anyway, I love music people. They're so goddamn nice and chill and welcoming and unpretentious. They're like the opposite of country club people. 

Jason is the nicest dude I've maybe ever met in my life. First gen American with Vietnamese parents. He went there with his family on a trip and hated it. 

He's friends with the Menzingers and was like baffled that I know who they are. He asked if I think they've gotten too commercial and I was like “bro, I really only discovered them like 6 months ago.” Hahahahahaha. 


We all drank and bullshit. Drank and bullshit. Smoke cigs. Drank and bullshit. Etc. Etc. 

Time was bending its pace. Speeding up and getting slower all at once. My memory of last night feels like it's both 2 weeks and 25 minutes at the same time. I had my most unique social experience of my life last night. 

I think I'm going to be way more confident in myself, the man™, because of it. I beat myself up over a lot of things and I think I have weird social interactions and I generally don't think I'm the best version of myself. But now, going forward, I don't know if I care about that kind of perfection as much. 

I love how present I am when I'm here. I'm consumed with what is in front of my eyes. I'm not worried about career, money, love life, death, my existence. I'm just here in a vacuum. It is like taking a sauna for your brain. Clearing out the pores of my life. 

Like I think I will be more comfortable with the bad, with like rejection, with failure, because whatever it is, it's like “I've partied with really interesting people in Tokyo by myself, and they LIKED me.” Like, who cares if someone in Minnesota doesn't. The world is big. The further I go, the bigger it feels. 

Saturday, May 6, 2017

Tokyo, Day 1

4:48am: Wake up in a panic, realize it's not 10 am. Sun is bright like mid-day. Watch Cubs game on MLB At Bat. 

5:15am: Walk to 7/11, drink a premade coffee drink called "Mt. Ranier." PNW appropriation. Background music is a Beatles/Super Mario mashup. The music never makes any sense. 

7:00am: Fish Market. 

So cool. So strange. People as far as the eye can see. Guys on electric pallet jacks running people over with no regard for human life. Sample wasabi. Shop for knives. Eat breakfast at a counter that's on the sidewalk with people buzzing all around - Tempura with soba. I know a lot of people are into Japanese food but I'm really not. I didn't even know what it is. There's something invigorating about ordering something and not knowing what you're going to get. The food came out basically instantly. Pour your own drink. Clean up after yourself. Very intimate experience. Probably top 10 favorite meal I've ever eaten. 


Assorted fish market photos below. 


9am: Tsukiji Buddhist Temple 

I was nervous about taking photos. Other people were too, though. 

It was really peaceful. People were lining up to go to the shrine and when they got to the front they were tithing. I think it's weird that Westerners were just watching. Tourists don't watch me take Communion. I felt off about it. 


10am: Imperial Palace. 

They didn't charge anything for it - they should. A beautiful park with a huge grassy area, awesome trees, surrounded by a moat (!!!). 


Me: "I'd love to have a moat."
Kevin: "I think you may have to leave Minneapolis-proper for that."


It had a very San Diego vibe where there was some wide open space and also some trails that break off with some serious tree cover. 

Former military base from like the 1500s (among other things). It's mind-blowing to me that that area was in use 200+ years before the United States existed. 

There was a big concert hall there too and it's never been open to the public. That's kind of baller. 

They also had these ice cream cones that made me gasp when I saw them. 


12pm: Financial District

It's so strange because the Imperial Palace is very calming and slow-paced and just a quarter mile or so away is the Financial District which is a neighborhood that's probably twice the footprint of Downtown Minneapolis with buildings as tall as IDS seemingly as far as the eye can see. 

Tokyo's neighborhoods, when you're in them, feel like they go on forever. 

12:30pm: Tokyo Central Station and surrounding hood. 

I started really feeling a beer and we tried going to a bar to have a couple, watch a ballgame, and regroup. Pretty standard stuff. Except no. Nothing is open. Saturday, mid day, biggest city I've ever been in - nothing open. We finally found an Italian place. No bar. So we sat at a table and had beers. Music scene - Eminem Rehab album and Weezy F. Baby and the F is for what a fucking weird place. The music never fits the scene. 

1pm: Ginza. 

Ginza is pure excess, the likes of which I've never seen before. It's the Mall of America, Rodeo Drive, and the Miracle Mile all together, buffet style. There was a goddamn De Beers diamond store. We didn't go in. 

Highlight: macaroons from Laudree, which only has like three locations - London, Paris, and Tokyo I guess. Maybe NYC. I don't know. 


2pm: Hooters.

I saw a Hooters near Ginza on the way to the train station and we had to go in. A Japanese imitation of an American bar is really weird to a couple Americans. When you walk in, every employee no matter where they are in the establishment say "hellowelcometoHooters." It's eerie. 

There were locals there which I was surprised by, but I guess. 

There was Japanese baseball on the tv and Phil Coke was getting rocked, obviously. 



2:45pm: Shibuya.

My favorite populous neighborhood. It's like Shinjuku but less tacky. Good shopping, bad food. 

We saw this gem in a hole in the wall apparel shop. 


I thought about buying some Ultra Boosts at the adidas store. Bought roadies instead. Rich taste. Relaxing time. 


After, we walked toward Meiji Shrine and on the way we found what I think was a stadium hosting a boy band of some sort. There were THOUSANDS of women all dressed the same and almost no men around. It was surreal. 

I honestly think I was too dumbfounded to take a photo. 


3:45-5pm: Meiji Shrine. 

I know I've said everything is my favorite, but this was actually my favorite. Some seriously dense forest, beautiful green, right in the middle of a 40 million person metropolis. 

Unbelievably beautiful. 


We were the perfect amount of drunk for this. Kevin asked a Japanese girl to take our photo, she did, I said "arigato" really slow and she burst out laughing and imitated me to my face. I will never criticize a tourist in the US ever again. 



5:30pm: Shinjuku. 

We needed dinner and went into some place. At this point we are drunk, sunburnt, loopy, and hungry as fuck. We pointed to the steaks on the menu and five mins later, they bring a grill to our table. Oh fuck. I'm way too drunk for this. 

Everything is so weird. Every time we do anything, something extremely out of the ordinary happens. So now we are grilling our own food. And I'm happy we did it. It was just such a hilarious scene. And the people here probably think we are stupid as fuck but you just have to roll with the punches. 


6pm: Hacks

I was tanked and sunburnt and decided to hit the hardest cage which was 130 km. There was no timing mechanism. Just wasn't a good performance. Maybe hit the ball hard three times. 

I wish there were batting cages everywhere in the states. I LOVE just popping in, taking a few hacks, and moving on with my day. It's such a great reset button. 


7pm: shower, regroup

8pm: Golden Gai

We went to Golden Gai again. It's the best. The perfect spot to sit and get down to business. Figure it out. What are we doing next? What are we doing right? What are we doing wrong?


We chilled and drank sake in Albatross with a Brit who lives in Singapore and works in shipping. I caught a "I'm rich as fuck" vibe from this dude. He was smoking probably the most obnoxious cowboy murdering cigarettes I've ever smelled. I'm usually down to smoke cigs when I'm drinking but I'm pretty sure I would have bong-coughed for 20 mins. I passed. 

9pm: Shibuya. 

At train station in Shinjuku, a guy heckled us basically. 

He grabbed me by the arm and said shit in Japanese as if I knew what he was saying. Another guy comes up to me. Excuse my diction. 
Me: "Whats he saying?"
Him: "He say... "fuck you""
Me: "He's saying "fuck me?""
Him: "Fuck you"
Me: "No - fuck him."


Wise words of World Wide Wes - "You can't chase the night."

I chased the night. 

I tried to handshake a dude we were talking to and then knucks him and then handshake him and it will haunt me until I die. It was cringe-worthy. I had to call it a night. 

1am: back to Sjinjuku. 

Trains are stopped at 1 am Saturday. Uhhhh what. Cab to Shinjuku station. Crawl home. Dead. 

I'm living my best life.

Friday, May 5, 2017

Tokyo, Day 0

**I'm going to be jotting down some thoughts regarding my Japan trip in here. Welcome back to the worst hands in the 2007 NFL Draft. 

Day 0 was super awesome and super strange. Tokyo feels like you're walking around in a video game. 

Everything is smaller. Streets are narrow, doors are lower, stairs go straight up. Our Airbnb is probably 300 square feet and I've hit my head on the tops of doorways like 5 times already. I'm basically a power forward now. 


Finding the place was a DISASTER. I'm sure there's a system of some sort and I'm just stupid (because I am stupid) but I'm pretty sure the streets don't have names and the buildings don't have numbers. It's weird as fuck. "Take a left here *inserts photo of a random street corner*" Google maps is no better. "Walk 40 M" "Cross the street." All of this with like 35 pound backpacks. Note to self, pack lighter next time. 

The apartment building itself is right out of Call of Duty in the Chernobyl level. It's strange and I can't imagine living here. No place to stretch out. 

We went to Golden Gai after a shower and change. Alley bars. We sat at a bar that seated like 6 max and drank yellow beers, which were situationally maybe the tastiest I've ever had even though they were basically Mich Golden Lights. It was 7 on Friday night and I asked the bartender basically "where is everyone" because the 'hood was empty. Bank Holiday, I guess. Still didn't make much sense. 
There was a dead snake in a Mason jar right in front of me when I sat down. A Japanese guy asked us how old we were, proceeded to tell us he was 40 - he did not look 40. He thanked us for the compliment. 5 min later a couple from the States walked in. Like clockwork, how old are you? I'm 40 (I'M A MAN, I'M 40). Ohhhh, thank you. Must be his party trick. 

There's a goddamn batting cage 1 block from our crib. It was an impromptu laser show last night. Had to redeem myself from dropping the Dozer home run on thursday. 

The inside of the batting cage. 

We ate in "Piss Alley." Bourdain world renowned neighborhood. Fucking alleys 4 feet wide with restaurants as far as the eye can see. Depending on your disposition, they're either cramped or charming. I find the small apartment cramped but the small restaurant charming. We ate some fried chicken wing stuff and asparagus. And beer.

After dinner we were about to call it a night around 10:30 (24 straight hours of travel is no joke) when we saw a department store looking thing. It was a pachinko parlour. I've never felt so much like this is not real life. I put in 1000 yen and played. It's like a cross between slots and plinko, only if Pokemon music was in the background on 78 and the screen was trying to give you a seizure. I still have no clue what the point of it is but this lady was trying to explain in broken English in my ear. I asked her to turn the volume down. No comprende. I probably deserved to lose just for being an American asshole.


Anyway. We're going to get into some weird shit again today. I can't wait. 


Friday, September 23, 2016

I'll Love You Forever, Kevin Garnett

I was born on September 25, 1992.  Kevin Garnett was drafted by the Timberwolves in June 1995, when I was shy of 3.  So today is the first lucid day of my life that Kevin Garnett is not in the NBA.  I'm not sure what to think.  I don't know if there's an athlete that I feel more connected to.  He's sort of the last active link to my childhood.

And my childhood was all Kevin Garnett all the time.  I swear I had 100 of his basketball cards.  My bedroom at my parents house is still littered with random Garnett shit.  I have an autograph on my wall from when I sent him a letter, one of hundreds that some poor intern probably had to stuff in envelopes and mail out.  Posters, jerseys, pictures, cards, even a Kevin Garnett rubber duck.  I would have worn his jersey every fucking day, and I probably tried.  I still don't understand why a Garnett jersey wasn't appropriate for picture day.  Our hall closet, to my knowledge is still full of VHS tapes of recordings of games, important and random, airings of his Beyond the Glory, random interviews.   I was insanely jealous of my cousin, named Kevin, because he had the same name as Kevin Garnett.  Now that I type it all out, my parents were probably pretty alarmed that I seemingly had no other interests.

In reality, I probably could have sent 1000 tweets about Garnett memories today.  But instead, I'm going to try and put them here.

I loved him and Stephon Marbury.  I hated it when he left.  

Me and my cousin were going to be in the NBA on the same team just like them, a dynamic duo of short white kids.  Of course, I was going to be the Garnett in our reincarnation.

The first time I heard the word "motherfucker" was out of his mouth at a game.

I loved the powder toss on the media before every game.  Couldn't understand why we didn't have powder at Saturday morning basketball.

I loved how when he fucked up, he snapped rubber bands on his wrists.  Of course, I imitated.

I loved the pregame chest pounding.  I loved the fact that he always blocked shots after the whistle.

I practiced his free throw routine and the left block turnaround fadeaway in our dirt driveway incessantly.

I loved the tee shirts for season ticket holders--the license plate.  Land of Defense and Double Doubles.

I loved when he won All Star Game MVP in 2003.  I acted like the Wolves won the damn Finals.  37 points!!!!  It did kind of irk me that he didn't get a double-double in that game tho.

I didn't care when he beat up Duluth's own Rick Rickert in training camp.  Rickert probably did something wrong anyway (Honestly this was the peak of my North Korea-esque unconditional belief in him.  No one has ever had a higher approval rating).

I loved when we finally got over the hump against Denver in 6 games in 2004.  He stood on the scorer's table relieved and basically insane.

I loved when we were actually on national TV, and the TNT music would come on, Kevin Harlan: "And we go to the land of 10,000 lakes..." [cut in to Kevin Garnett wamring up with exactly two of the buttons on his tearaway pants done]

I loved when he called his teammates over to take the MVP.  I loved that he had a bad game that night, and I was defending him to my parents' friends who had seemingly just discovered the Timberwolves earlier that week.

I wanted to murder Anthony Peeler when he punched Garnett in Game 6 and said so.  My dad didn't like that much.

I loved Game 7.  46 minutes.  32-21-2-5-4.  Him screming "God damnit!!!"  Going into the postgame interview.

I hated that that was the top of the mountain for him on the Wolves.

I hated the next two years, and for a time, Kevin McHale, for doing the least with the most in the entire NBA while employing KG.

I loved that he left.  I loved that it wasn't the Lakers, thank fucking God.

I loved that he won.  I love that he shouted out "'Sota" as he and only he calls it after.  

I loved those Celtic teams.

I love that he never changed, he hated Duncan and Sheed the same as he did LeBron and Joakim a decade later.

I loved that he wore Sealy's number in New Jersey.

I loved the return.  I love that I spent $60 on the wrong comeback game, a week before he debuted again.

I love that I was in the last row of Target Center for the return.  I love how I went to Target Center at 9 am to get student tickets.

He was the fucking man. 

EDIT: Forgot some shit.

A girl in my class got to go to the 03 playoffs vs. the Lakers.  I asked her who her favorite player was.  She said her two favorites were Kevin Garnett and KG.  I almost shit.

Loved him and Sam Cassell.  I loved how much he loved Malik Sealy.

I loved how he taught Wiggins and Karl.  I love how much he loved Flip.

I love all the stories of him being insane.  Head butting the wall of his own house watching MTV.  Hyperventilating on the court.  "LET'S FUCKING GO, MOTHERFUCKERS!"

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

The Twins Still Stink

A sentence or two on every player currently on the Twins roster.

# Name B/T Ht Wt DOB
58 Fernando Abad L/L 6'1" 220lbs 12/17/85 He's alright.
64 Pat Dean L/L 6'1" 195lbs 5/25/89 Name sounds like a Republican state senator from western Minnesota.
56 Tyler Duffey R/R 6'3" 220lbs 12/27/90 Only competent starter.
45 Phil Hughes R/R 6'5" 240lbs 6/24/86 He was really good in 2014
49 Kevin Jepsen R/R 6'3" 235lbs 7/26/84 Good thing I left before he pitched tonight.
27 Brandon Kintzler R/R 6'0" 190lbs 8/1/84 Can't wait to forget he was ever a Twin
65 Trevor May R/R 6'5" 240lbs 9/23/89 He's good but he's been bad. Met him at a bar in Uptown, nice guy
47 Ricky Nolasco R/R 6'2" 235lbs 12/13/82 Get the fuck off my team
54 Ervin Santana R/R 6'2" 175lbs 12/12/82 I wonder how many hat sizes he went down when he cut his dreadlocks
57 Ryan Pressly R/R 6'3" 210lbs 12/15/88 Didn't even realize we still had him
55 Taylor Rogers L/L 6'3" 170lbs 12/17/90 Uninspired call up
59 Michael Tonkin R/R 6'7" 220lbs 11/19/89 Hit in extras against Washington, hit a swinging bunt where my internal body clock said he's safe, he was out by 6 steps.
# Name B/T Ht Wt DOB
37 Juan Centeno L/R 5'9" 195lbs 11/16/89 3 years 36 million
8 Kurt Suzuki R/R 5'11" 205lbs 10/4/83 Top 5 least favorite Twin of all time.
# Name B/T Ht Wt DOB
2 Brian Dozier R/R 5'11" 200lbs 5/15/87 Oh no, we suck again!
5 Eduardo Escobar S/R 5'10" 185lbs 1/5/89 He makes me sad
7 Joe Mauer L/R 6'5" 225lbs 4/19/83 I love him so much
9 Eduardo Nunez R/R 6'0" 195lbs 6/15/87 Top 4 least favorite Twin of all time
24 Trevor Plouffe R/R 6'2" 215lbs 6/15/86 Nice guy who is more average than Terry Ryan is willing to admit
# Name B/T Ht Wt DOB
31 Oswaldo Arcia L/R 6'0" 225lbs 5/9/91 No good reason he didn't pinch hit tonight
36 Robbie Grossman S/L 6'0" 215lbs 9/16/89 2 years 17 million extension
21 Darin Mastroianni R/R 5'11" 190lbs 8/26/85 I still can't believe he's on the Twins again. So so so so so depressing
22 Miguel Sano R/R 6'4" 260lbs 5/11/93 Getting a tattoo of him on my lower back and my neck
39 Danny Santana S/R 5'11" 185lbs 11/7/90 He's mistaken all of his bats for piss-soaked, rolled-up copies of the Pioneer Press
Designated Hitters
# Name B/T Ht Wt DOB
52 Byung Ho Park R/R 6'1" 220lbs 7/10/86 Good hitter shitty tattoos

I'm drunk.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

The Twins Stink

The Twins flat out stink. I've been to 2 games this week (which is almost all of the games so far) and they have scored for me a combined 1 (ONE) run.  I've been thinking a lot about the Twins lately since I love baseball and they're my favorite team so here are some things.

What if they start like 0-45???  Like what would happen? How many games would it take for everyone in the organization to be fired?  Like at 0-30, would Molitor get fired or what's the number?  I think at like 0-40, they would finally start getting attention from Jim Pohlad, kind of like when a really rich kid whose dad is always out of town on business gets really bad grades one quarter and they get faxed (faxed?) to his dad who's on a fancy business trip in Hong Kong then he calls his kid and is like "what the fuck, Blake? (Blake a name of kids who have rich fancy parents)"  All just a long con to finally get some fucking attention from his pops.  At 0-57, I think Molitor has already stopped coming to work and Terry Ryan would have to move into a nursing home in Lakeville.  At 0-70 I think there's a cyanide giveaway night and the 4000 remaining fans perform a ritual suicide after Kurt Suzuki's ceremonial pop out to the first baseman in the 4th inning.

I think if they set the record for most consecutive losses to start a season, the Twins should go on a 3 year probationary period where they aren't allowed to send a player to the All Star Game and instead the team must play a 3 game series over the break with the reigning Town Ball State Champions a la Mystery, Alaska.

My senior year of the high school, the basketball team made it to the section final and some of my friends who were on the team told me the day before, they practiced cutting down the nets so they could envision themselves winning the game.  The Twins should do this.  The Twins should have a practice tomorrow afternoon where they put a guy on the mound and simulate winning a game.  He pitches, they fake win, and the catcher runs out and high fives the closer.  The outfielders do their goofy jump hip bump thing in center field and then everyone meets on the mound to high five each other before going to the clubhouse where SURPRISE Torii Hunter is back with the smoke machine and some fire jams.  PRACTICE DANCE PARTY.  LET'S FUCKING GO.

That, or there should be a players only batting practice at the St. Thomas field.  We did this before the wood bat tournament in Hibbing when I was a freshman and sophmore in our full uniforms before the night game.  Upper classmen pitched to the starting lineup in order, then the bench guys and the other guys shagged and talked about who on the team's sister each guy wanted to have sex with.  Also, everyone was required to chew or they were called a pussy.  (CC Tim Scott, please don't give me retroactive weeks for this, or do I don't care). Then we would do a car train to the park and drive around Hibbing in a line of like 12 cars honking our horns like general assholes.  

What if the Twins did an Opening Day redo.  Just a random game when they're say 0-18 where before the game the announce full rosters and staffs of both teams and parade them around.  Get the fucking strength coach and the fucking hot dog vendors out there and then do a national anthem with a huge fucking flag and just try this shit over again.

I wonder if there's a guy in the clubhouse that no one really likes.  They could just scapegoat him.  Molitor wouldn't even pull him into his office, just have a big announcement when everyone's in the clubhouse.  Ricky (Nolasco, it's definitely Nolasco), pack up your shit, your contract has been sold to the last place team in the Mexican League.  Kind of like when in The Office, the branches merge and Dwight wants Michael to fire someone on the first day to establish dominance.  Now that I've typed this out it doesn't seem plausible but fuck it.

Let's just try harder tomorrow guys.  Go Twins!

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Fred Smoot's AMA

Minnesota Vikings legend and Lake Minnetonka enthusiast Fred Smoot did an AMA and even though he's in his 40s now he's still out of his fucking mind.  

Who fucking says that?  Prostitutes and HGH, that's what the 2005 Minnesota Vikings do.

Read: Dan Snyder pays my bills.  One of my favorite boycotts is my Johnny Rocket's boycott because fucking Snyder owns it.  Never underestimate the power of a good boycott, Schafer singlehandedly got Chicken Fries back in the BK Lounge near you.

Also, Smoot saying the players fuck with Jay Gruden is such an incredible seal of approval.  I bought some clothes this weekend and the black dude at the register told me I bought a "nice fit."  I think if a black dude said "I fuck with you" I would just drop dead of self-satisfaction.

Manziel's next step is basically what I wish my life could be--sitting courtside and NBA games, sidelines for NCAA games, partying in Vegas, jetsetting all over the world, and spending my parents' (hypothetical) oil money.  If the NFL doesn't work out for Johnny (that's like me saying "if this diet doesn't work out for me), his life is gonna be fine.

LOVE calling strip clubs scrip clubs.  Ever since I was exposed to Hot 104.1 in St. Louis, they haven't been streets to me, they been screets.

Imagine being the guy who is gonna go to Deja Vu and drop Fred Smoots name.

I love reddit.  It's truly the internet version of people watching.  This dude's sitting at his computer just like "how can I get Ryan from Accounting to stop clowning on me, I bet Smoot knows."  Like who is this guy?

Making fun of your friends who are balding is never not funny.

I wish there were hosts at scrip clubs.  "Cocksmith, party of 12?  Cocksmith, party of TWELVE!"

I believe it was Tupac who said "You claim to be a playa but I fucked yo wife."

Smoot's still a savage.

My jaw hit the keyboard.  Imagine being someone who says this.

PS--if I had a time machine, I would 100% go back to the Love Boat.  Signature moment in Minnesota sports history.  

PPS--Imagine how many kids Adrian Peterson would have had nine months after the Love Boat.  Could roster a whole Pop Warner team.