An Atkins-unfriendly Weekend!

The waiting was over. The time had come. The pterydactyl bellowed. And with a quick, "Yabba-dabba- doo!" I was down the brontosaurus' tail and the Weekend Of Will was underway!A quick call to my party liason, William Herbert Shannon, and the wheels were in motion for a wet and wild weekend! First stop, some 9-5 businessman's bar downtown where I would meet Billy and his better half Kathy, more prominently known as Rage KJ (that's pronounced cage), for a couple of cold ones and some lightehearted laughs. Then it was off to heaven on earth, no, not Billy's lap, but the Change of Pace sports bar. If you've never been, then what in the sam hill is the matter with you!!!! They have good beer, great food, and a delightfully homey atmosphere. Not homey in the hip-hop or the Damon Wayans character from In Living Color way, but in that they make you feel at home. (Note: One of the best cooks in the biz no longer graces their kitchen with his prescence, but the food is still scrum-diddily-umptious!) But I digress. Bill, Rage and myself find Toastie's friend CJ (sure I'd met him several times and couldn't remember his name, but I did recognize him, and that should count for something, right?) at the bar, and we start enjoying some liquid bread (that's beer for those of you not too quick on the uptake.) The game started and it didn't take long for the bitter juices to start flowing. The entrance of our friend the Mad Costa Rica, Leandro, donning a Yankees jacket and cap, didn't not help matters. I tried to take him down a peg by mentioning that this ain't Paraguay, and there's no barter system, so he'd better not count on buying a beer with livestock or his native country's staple crop. After this mix of bitterness and stupidity, we proceeded to watch the game, which was then delayed by rain, no big deal, it happens. But, BUT, what made the bitter barometer (it's pronounced thermometer) shoot up a few levels, was the fact that NBC decided it would show Third Watch in it's entirety, regardless of whether or not the game resumed. Wait a sec, hold the phone.....in it's entirety. WILL'S GETTIN UPSET! This was about the same time that the lil' lightbulb above Billy's head lit up, and he and Rage ordered pizza and wings to appease the bitter beast that was me. And let's just say, mission accomplished! The game would resume (we missed about an inning and a half due to them turing to Heidi, I mean Third Watch), we ate drank, exchanged a few laughs, and the Sox defeated the Yanks, although Toastie and myself were the only ones around still drinking by the games finish. I went home knowing the world was right, I was drunk and the Red Sox were only 2 1/2 back of the hated Yankees. Oh how quickly emotions can change.
Saturday started, as it should, with me still drunk and watching ABC Kids. They really do have some quality programming on that network. Well as the Red-Sox game was about to start I was sort of sobered up, but was still in my, ever so comfy, pajama pants. They're plaid for those of you scoring at home. Well, as the game started the Red Sox looked like the Red Sox of yore, the Sox I've come to know and love, shooting themselves in the foot and making their fans want to shoot themselves in the head. With the score: a lot to a little in the second inning, my saving grace arrived in the form of a phone call from my good friend Wreckin Ball. She was ready to go to the Change of Pace and drink, and with the score as it was, I was on the same page. On a side note, I don't think it's possible to be a straight edge Red Sox fan. You just need something to take the edge off. On the bright side I did get to see the Orangemen, I mean the Orange (sorry if I offended any Orange-Americans), beat the Mighty Bearcats from Cincinnati. Well after a couple of pitchers of beer, I decided it was time for a nap. Don't worry I went home first, I didn't just pass out at the bar. Although it wouldn't be the first time. The plans for later would include bowling and beer, with a side of karaoke at good 'ol Astro Lanes, with Wreckin Ball and B-Rad. (Hours elapse). So while waiting for Wreckin Ball to use the ATM, I spot some sweetie $.99 authentic plastic shades. They would be mine, oh yes, they would be mine. So with my new shades in hand, it was off to Astro, where we were shocked to find, dun, dun, duh....there was no open bowling that evening. I was none to pleased, so I stormed right outta there, after finishing 2 or 3 beers first of course. We needed to regroup. Wreckin Ball was hungry, I was sober, there was only one solution. You guessed it! Say it with me now, "Change of Pace". We arrived, ordered a pitcher of beer, a chicken wing pizza and some wings. Now, whilst we were sitting enjoying our beers, waiting for our food, some drunk Eminem wanna-be strolled up to our table, talking on his cell phone. He proceeded to inquire about the kitchen, what kind of food we had and even started telling us what he wanted, to which Wreckin Ball replied, "You can order at the bar." Upset, he replied, "Oh, so that's how it's gonna be!" and gangsta-walked away. At the bar he told everyone, "That girl back there (Wreckin Ball) played me, yo." The patrons at the bar, having forgotten their Hip-Hop to English dictionaries, were confused. He proceeded to order two dozen wings and a dozen chinken fingers (which are each bigger than your hand) and a shot of Sambuka, to go. Well, the shot was for there. Anyways the rest of the evening was fairly uneventful, we drank, ate, laughed, made fun of people and were on our way. But not before I snagged a to-go box for the last two slices of pizza (you just don't waste that.)
I awoke Sunday, with only two things on my mind, Chicken Wing Pizza and football. So I went to the fridge and grabbed the leftover pizza, while also realizing it was time to change the box of baking powder, or is it baking soda? I dunno you'll have to ask Billy. Speaking of Billy, he and I were set for a long day of drinking and watching football. We headed to Pat's Sports Pub, the definition of a hole in the wall drinking venue if ever there were one, where we would proceed to try and watch seven games at the same time. Our bartender's name was Jen and she dug us, I could tell. Let me tell you, if Bill weren't involved and I didn't repel women with the greatest of ease, we could've had her. Of those last two statements, the only truth is that the bartender's name was Jen. But she did like my sunglasses (the aforementioned $.99 pick-up from the night before). It was a good time had by all! I had to leave at about 7pm for a work function, where there would be free wings, mozzarella stix (why do they spell it with an 'x'?) and bowling. Nothing too eventful there, except I lost part of my buzz and pulled a muscle, so it was off to the Change of Pace one more time to meet Billy and watch the Bengals defeat those bastard Dolphins (pardon my French) without Kitna. So, in summary the first Weekend Of Will was a success and contrary to popular belief and modern science, I survived. Thanks to all who participated. Goodnight and godspeed!