Bruins Bash Trojans

Football is a great excuse to swill brew, and when Nikki Carmichael is happily in attendance, being around one of my favorite girls in the world isn’t optional.

Superior female Basher, Bruin fan till the death, she has a knack for making me laugh with her unrivaled witticisms and uncanny observations of the absurd. She is also a dominator of the male species, a tongue sharp enough to cut through the strongest mental armor, and a smile to melt the hardest of hearts. She’s definitely better friend than foe.

I probably put her on a pretty high pedestal, an unrestrained fault of my own doing, but I look up to her ways and methods, envy some of her traits, the true femme fatale.
The game was fraught with little to no expectation on the outcome, with USC coming into the game as a heavy favorite over the struggling Bruins. It took one quarter of play to realize this wasn’t just another Trojan trampling.

The UCLA contingency (all the girls in this case) celebrated this unexpected victory with joyous screams of elation and ebullient post-game drinking contests.
Lara, as usual, managed to drink more than her counterparts, a feat for her size that often amazes onlookers, especially when the humorous barbs fly with pin-point accuracy, in this case, much to the chagrin of lone USC fan. Mitch was bitter at the loss.
The drunken stupor wasn’t enough to stop me from attending a bash on Crescent Heights, a bit of a distance from the initial fray, but worthy because Lance never fails when calling out a party shot.

Results were much better than the sausage fiasco the other night, which has emotionally scarred me for at least the next couple months.
Lance, behind the turntables as usual, brought the bash up another level, a talent that consistently remains effortless on his part. Some train years to achieve greater standing in an art, but for some it comes naturally.

Not a whole lot of worthy females, but much more than that debacle on Friday. Plus this bash had more booze. No hot tub, no naked broads, but the sweet confections made by the party host were irresistible, I probably gained 15 pounds from all the beer and party host chocolate treats.
Two phone numbers attained with ease after utilizing Camera Theory, crap shoot as to whether blessing arrives later in the form of a phone call. Once again it’s proven that most nights can’t go smoothly, which was compounded by the late appearance of Joel.
Sunday was a wash. Didn’t wake up with a girl in my arms, hungover, got out of bed around 1pm after watching football for an hour, crawled across the street for the Del’s $10 bucket of five High Lifes, hated life, tried to drink but could do so only slowly while a looming despair of knowing the Raiders would find yet another creative way to lose a ballgame became apparent and recognized. Finished my beers, crawled back to bed and crashed, and here I am, another Monday with females on the mind again.

Business begins again.