Dakota
I Came Back to North Dakota and Craziness Came Back Into My Life
February/02/2009 08:33 PM
I’ve been back up in North Dakota for quite some time and I didn’t think I’d get a lot of great blog material out of this place so quickly, but I did. I’ve actually taken many photo’s that help me to tell the stories, all except for one. So, here goes, the stories you can only get in Bismarck, North Dakota...
Oh yea, you can check out the old Dakota posts here.
There is no story to go along with the following photo’s, but you need to know how cold it was. It was somethin like 40 or 50 below. To tell the truth, anything below 10 feels like life as you know it will soon come to an end. I have no clue why anyone says there’s global warming when Dakota has their coldest, snowiest winter ever so far.
I hadn’t been to Buck’s in nearly 9 months, so I headed over there on a random Monday night. The place was empty, except for maybe 4 or 5 people, excluding myself and my two teammates. It sure as hell didn’t stop us from C-Walking, Cha Cha Sliding, and Cupid Shuffling. It didn’t stop us from playing Black Jack and it certainly didn’t stop us from getting handed a Hilary Clinton mask by the D.J. and wearing it the whole time:
Teammate in the mask, an old boom tho shirt, and two balloons under his shirt.
Hilary Clinton must be mad boom tho. She must be.
Then there was after Saturday’s game againts the Ft. Wayne Mad Ants. My boy Coleman Collins, his teammate Sean Sonderleiter, and I went to a bar called Stadium because I informed them that there was a Jukebox for the music and a table for the blackjack.
I won about $170 (baller, I know), then left the table about 10 minutes before the bar closed (at 1, grr). I walked over to talk to our game time P.A., Scott Woodmansee. He happened to be near a table that had a woman wearing a little white vest. I thought it’d be funny to put the vest on for a second since it was so small. I traded her for my sweatshirt and wore the white vest around for a couple minutes just to be funny.
When it was time to head out, we couldn’t get a taxi together so we had to scrap a ride. We found out that the white vest woman could give us a ride, so we headed out to the car. What we didn’t know was that she was there with her daughter, her daughters friend, and her daughters friend’s husband. Now we had to fit three 6’9”-6’10” guys in a car with 4 other people. It was a five seat SUV type thing so Sean sat in the trunk area, while Coleman, the Daughter and her friend, and I sat in the back, and the mother in the passenger seat while the husband drove. Oh yea, we found out that the mother was the mother at this point when she started arguing with the daughter. I had no clue because she was only 38 years old and the daughter was 22. This age dynamic would play a role very soon.
So all of us ballers thought we were going right to the Days Inn to drop the Mad Ants off, but we started taking some odd turns that I know weren’t quite the right way. I asked the driver out loud where we were going, because the Days Inn was the other way. The mother answered.
“We’re going to pick up Tyler first,” she said.
I think everyone in the car knew that there was nowhere for anyone else to fit in that bad boy. I was starting to suspect that she may have been a little drunk. Her daughter interrupted my thought process.
“We are NOT picking up Tyler mom. I tired of you f*$%king doing this $#!t!”
Coleman and I looked at each other like, “oh man, what have we gotten ourselves into?”
The mother and the daughter got into a heated argument that lasted nearly ten minutes. Finally, we pulled into an empty, snow covered parking lot. The mom hopped out and began yelling out Tyler’s name. This is the reason I remember his name and nobody else’s, because I heard this woman scream it out into the snowy distance for the next 15 minutes, occasionally turning back to the car to yell and argue with her daughter.
The mother gave up the Tyler search and got back into the car. That’s when some vital information came out.
“Mom, you’re such a bitch! You always want to f*&R^king hit on my friends, but Tyler is MY boyfriend, not yours!” the daughter yelled.
The truth was finally out, Tyler was daughters man, but Mom was making the move to find him. All of this happening while we sit, crammed in the back of some tiny car, waiting to get home.
The driver then told everyone that he knew where Tyler was. We started driving somewhere else -- not to the Days Inn. We stopped somewhere else and the mom got on the phone with Tyler, then hopped out. The daughter yelled out that Tyler couldn’t even fit in the car. The mom then yelled back: “He can sit on my lap, bitch!”
The daughter was oh so mad.
After a few minutes, mom came waltzing back with Tyler. Tyler was clearly drunk and stumbly and walked right up to the back right door, the door I was sitting next to. He flung open the door, looked at me and said “Who the f*&k is this? Get the f^%k out of the car! Who the f^%k are you?”
I calmly stepped out and took a step towards him. I towered over him and I think he assumed I was some short little punk he could say anything to, but that was not the case. He immediately began to apologize. He took his seat -- on top of mom’s lap -- and I got back into my seat, and we drove to the Days Inn. Finally.
After some more arguing, I ended up back at my apartment. Night over.
The next day was Super Bowl Sunday. Coleman and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings to see the game, eat some food, and chill. Here I am with my sooper dooper three dee glasses on:
After the game was over, we were sitting at the bar chillin, finishing our meals, when the bartender point to some guy in the walkway.
“He’s not being serious right now, right?”
I looked over. The guy stumbled left, then half stumbled right, then caught himself, then stumbled again.
I turned back to the bartender.
“Yea, I think he’s being for real. He’s just that drunk.”
See, I don’t know what it is about this place that makes people want to drink until they have an irregular heartbeat, but it’s got to be something in the air -- something that has yet to hit me.
We laughed at the guy and how he walked over to this table of women behind me. He had no balance or motor skills so he leaned all his weight onto their table. He was standing so funny due to his lack of balance. He was on his toes, but he was standing like he was on his heels. He looked like a flamingo with cerebral palsy.
I got back to Coleman and to talking with him and the people around me when all of sudden the bartender’s face turned pale. Her eyes grew big and her mouth opened. She almost stuttered but instead the words came right out.
“OMG He just pissed himself!”
I turned around and looked at him. I noticed what she did. There was a small wet spot around the zipper of his jeans. In real-time I watched it grow and grow and grow. Then I watched it go down his right leg slowly until it stopped around his knee. He had no clue. I then whipped out my BlackBerry, handed it to the bartender, and had her take a photo:
First, notice the guys right leg. There is clearly a wet spot. Next, notice the blonde next to him who is grossed out and trying to control her laughter. Now, notice his friend, who also has no clue about the urine. Last, notice me, thumbs up baby! Mad boom tho!
I must say, it’s good to be back in town! I’m here til mid-April. Who knows what will happen next?
Oh yea, you can check out the old Dakota posts here.
There is no story to go along with the following photo’s, but you need to know how cold it was. It was somethin like 40 or 50 below. To tell the truth, anything below 10 feels like life as you know it will soon come to an end. I have no clue why anyone says there’s global warming when Dakota has their coldest, snowiest winter ever so far.
I hadn’t been to Buck’s in nearly 9 months, so I headed over there on a random Monday night. The place was empty, except for maybe 4 or 5 people, excluding myself and my two teammates. It sure as hell didn’t stop us from C-Walking, Cha Cha Sliding, and Cupid Shuffling. It didn’t stop us from playing Black Jack and it certainly didn’t stop us from getting handed a Hilary Clinton mask by the D.J. and wearing it the whole time:
Teammate in the mask, an old boom tho shirt, and two balloons under his shirt.
Hilary Clinton must be mad boom tho. She must be.
Then there was after Saturday’s game againts the Ft. Wayne Mad Ants. My boy Coleman Collins, his teammate Sean Sonderleiter, and I went to a bar called Stadium because I informed them that there was a Jukebox for the music and a table for the blackjack.
I won about $170 (baller, I know), then left the table about 10 minutes before the bar closed (at 1, grr). I walked over to talk to our game time P.A., Scott Woodmansee. He happened to be near a table that had a woman wearing a little white vest. I thought it’d be funny to put the vest on for a second since it was so small. I traded her for my sweatshirt and wore the white vest around for a couple minutes just to be funny.
When it was time to head out, we couldn’t get a taxi together so we had to scrap a ride. We found out that the white vest woman could give us a ride, so we headed out to the car. What we didn’t know was that she was there with her daughter, her daughters friend, and her daughters friend’s husband. Now we had to fit three 6’9”-6’10” guys in a car with 4 other people. It was a five seat SUV type thing so Sean sat in the trunk area, while Coleman, the Daughter and her friend, and I sat in the back, and the mother in the passenger seat while the husband drove. Oh yea, we found out that the mother was the mother at this point when she started arguing with the daughter. I had no clue because she was only 38 years old and the daughter was 22. This age dynamic would play a role very soon.
So all of us ballers thought we were going right to the Days Inn to drop the Mad Ants off, but we started taking some odd turns that I know weren’t quite the right way. I asked the driver out loud where we were going, because the Days Inn was the other way. The mother answered.
“We’re going to pick up Tyler first,” she said.
I think everyone in the car knew that there was nowhere for anyone else to fit in that bad boy. I was starting to suspect that she may have been a little drunk. Her daughter interrupted my thought process.
“We are NOT picking up Tyler mom. I tired of you f*$%king doing this $#!t!”
Coleman and I looked at each other like, “oh man, what have we gotten ourselves into?”
The mother and the daughter got into a heated argument that lasted nearly ten minutes. Finally, we pulled into an empty, snow covered parking lot. The mom hopped out and began yelling out Tyler’s name. This is the reason I remember his name and nobody else’s, because I heard this woman scream it out into the snowy distance for the next 15 minutes, occasionally turning back to the car to yell and argue with her daughter.
The mother gave up the Tyler search and got back into the car. That’s when some vital information came out.
“Mom, you’re such a bitch! You always want to f*&R^king hit on my friends, but Tyler is MY boyfriend, not yours!” the daughter yelled.
The truth was finally out, Tyler was daughters man, but Mom was making the move to find him. All of this happening while we sit, crammed in the back of some tiny car, waiting to get home.
The driver then told everyone that he knew where Tyler was. We started driving somewhere else -- not to the Days Inn. We stopped somewhere else and the mom got on the phone with Tyler, then hopped out. The daughter yelled out that Tyler couldn’t even fit in the car. The mom then yelled back: “He can sit on my lap, bitch!”
The daughter was oh so mad.
After a few minutes, mom came waltzing back with Tyler. Tyler was clearly drunk and stumbly and walked right up to the back right door, the door I was sitting next to. He flung open the door, looked at me and said “Who the f*&k is this? Get the f^%k out of the car! Who the f^%k are you?”
I calmly stepped out and took a step towards him. I towered over him and I think he assumed I was some short little punk he could say anything to, but that was not the case. He immediately began to apologize. He took his seat -- on top of mom’s lap -- and I got back into my seat, and we drove to the Days Inn. Finally.
After some more arguing, I ended up back at my apartment. Night over.
The next day was Super Bowl Sunday. Coleman and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings to see the game, eat some food, and chill. Here I am with my sooper dooper three dee glasses on:
After the game was over, we were sitting at the bar chillin, finishing our meals, when the bartender point to some guy in the walkway.
“He’s not being serious right now, right?”
I looked over. The guy stumbled left, then half stumbled right, then caught himself, then stumbled again.
I turned back to the bartender.
“Yea, I think he’s being for real. He’s just that drunk.”
See, I don’t know what it is about this place that makes people want to drink until they have an irregular heartbeat, but it’s got to be something in the air -- something that has yet to hit me.
We laughed at the guy and how he walked over to this table of women behind me. He had no balance or motor skills so he leaned all his weight onto their table. He was standing so funny due to his lack of balance. He was on his toes, but he was standing like he was on his heels. He looked like a flamingo with cerebral palsy.
I got back to Coleman and to talking with him and the people around me when all of sudden the bartender’s face turned pale. Her eyes grew big and her mouth opened. She almost stuttered but instead the words came right out.
“OMG He just pissed himself!”
I turned around and looked at him. I noticed what she did. There was a small wet spot around the zipper of his jeans. In real-time I watched it grow and grow and grow. Then I watched it go down his right leg slowly until it stopped around his knee. He had no clue. I then whipped out my BlackBerry, handed it to the bartender, and had her take a photo:
First, notice the guys right leg. There is clearly a wet spot. Next, notice the blonde next to him who is grossed out and trying to control her laughter. Now, notice his friend, who also has no clue about the urine. Last, notice me, thumbs up baby! Mad boom tho!
I must say, it’s good to be back in town! I’m here til mid-April. Who knows what will happen next?
|
Sometimes The Night Aint Right
January/08/2008 02:32 PM
I was at Buck's again walking around as usual. It was like a Wednesday or something so there was almost nobody there. I walked around with a dazed look on my face for a little while. Finally my dazed look turned into one that said "I've given up for tonight." I started thinking about whether I was going to play Madden or Halo when I got home when someone interrupted my thought process.
"Don't look at me," some girl yelled from the middle of the dance floor. My eyes refocused as I came out of my day dream. I was looking at her, completely accidentally. It hit me then that she was not worth looking at. I hate to say it, but she was just not attractive at all. She came at me with the don't look at her bit and yet I would just as quickly come back at her with the same line.... So I did.
"What?! How about you don't look at me?" I fired back. Both of us got our wish.
5 minutes later I was still there, waiting for the place to pick up a little bit. Another girl walked up to me and told me there was something on my shirt. She pointed her finger towards my chest at the spot. I looked down and sure enough her finger came up into my face like we were in third grade. Seriously. While she was playfully laughing, I walked away. No way was I going to stand for such games.
Now it really was time to leave. I started heading towards the door when someone grabbed my hand. I turned around and looked down to see a 60 year old woman looking back up at me. Maybe she wasn't 60, but coddamn she was old regardless.
"Do you want to dance?" she asked me.
The night had already been ridiculous enough in the last 30 minutes, I guess I could at least dance one song with her to be nice.
"Sure. Why not?"
She walked me over to the dance floor. I grabbed her hands and proceeded to dance with her like anyone would dance with a woman 3 times their age. I danced with her like she was my grandmother. Straight up ball room dance style. I don't really know the waltz, but this was as close as I could get to waltz style dancing.
Granny and I continued this style for a couple minutes, then, out of nowhere, she turned around and attempted to break me off like a 50 Cent video girl. I rarely ever feel ashamed on the dance floor, but this was an exception. I couldn't believe this old woman was doing this. I especially couldn't believe she was doing this to ME. After my shock wore off, I turned and walked away from the dance floor. It was just too much.
She followed me and grabbed my hand again.
"Please please please dance with me for another song. Please?"
Now was the real decision time. It was obvious that she wanted more than a dance now. There was no way I was going to do anything more than dance, and I definitely had no intention of dancing like that. Why head back out there with her? What would I have to gain?
Right then I threw my camera to my teammate and told him to record what was about to happen. I decided I would dance so ridiculously and at such an absurd pace that she couldn't handle it. I figured I could always watch the video and laugh at the most seductive dancing that will ever occur between myself and someone with an AARP card. Well, at least until I have my own card if you know what I mean.
We headed back over to the dance floor. Right before we started up again, she slipped a piece of paper with her phone number on it into my hand. Gross. That almost stopped me, but I looked over at my teammates who assured me that the show must go on. It did:
How old is too old these days? I mean there has always been a kind of man fantasy to get the older girl, but seriously, this is way too old. The fact that she thought it was O.K. was ridiculous. The fact that I went along with it was preposterous. The fact that nobody there found it unusual is almost upsetting. Either way I skipped right out to the van and left right after the display. I've been told that she then gave her number to another guy on my team. Gross. Just gross.
"Don't look at me," some girl yelled from the middle of the dance floor. My eyes refocused as I came out of my day dream. I was looking at her, completely accidentally. It hit me then that she was not worth looking at. I hate to say it, but she was just not attractive at all. She came at me with the don't look at her bit and yet I would just as quickly come back at her with the same line.... So I did.
"What?! How about you don't look at me?" I fired back. Both of us got our wish.
5 minutes later I was still there, waiting for the place to pick up a little bit. Another girl walked up to me and told me there was something on my shirt. She pointed her finger towards my chest at the spot. I looked down and sure enough her finger came up into my face like we were in third grade. Seriously. While she was playfully laughing, I walked away. No way was I going to stand for such games.
Now it really was time to leave. I started heading towards the door when someone grabbed my hand. I turned around and looked down to see a 60 year old woman looking back up at me. Maybe she wasn't 60, but coddamn she was old regardless.
"Do you want to dance?" she asked me.
The night had already been ridiculous enough in the last 30 minutes, I guess I could at least dance one song with her to be nice.
"Sure. Why not?"
She walked me over to the dance floor. I grabbed her hands and proceeded to dance with her like anyone would dance with a woman 3 times their age. I danced with her like she was my grandmother. Straight up ball room dance style. I don't really know the waltz, but this was as close as I could get to waltz style dancing.
Granny and I continued this style for a couple minutes, then, out of nowhere, she turned around and attempted to break me off like a 50 Cent video girl. I rarely ever feel ashamed on the dance floor, but this was an exception. I couldn't believe this old woman was doing this. I especially couldn't believe she was doing this to ME. After my shock wore off, I turned and walked away from the dance floor. It was just too much.
She followed me and grabbed my hand again.
"Please please please dance with me for another song. Please?"
Now was the real decision time. It was obvious that she wanted more than a dance now. There was no way I was going to do anything more than dance, and I definitely had no intention of dancing like that. Why head back out there with her? What would I have to gain?
Right then I threw my camera to my teammate and told him to record what was about to happen. I decided I would dance so ridiculously and at such an absurd pace that she couldn't handle it. I figured I could always watch the video and laugh at the most seductive dancing that will ever occur between myself and someone with an AARP card. Well, at least until I have my own card if you know what I mean.
We headed back over to the dance floor. Right before we started up again, she slipped a piece of paper with her phone number on it into my hand. Gross. That almost stopped me, but I looked over at my teammates who assured me that the show must go on. It did:
How old is too old these days? I mean there has always been a kind of man fantasy to get the older girl, but seriously, this is way too old. The fact that she thought it was O.K. was ridiculous. The fact that I went along with it was preposterous. The fact that nobody there found it unusual is almost upsetting. Either way I skipped right out to the van and left right after the display. I've been told that she then gave her number to another guy on my team. Gross. Just gross.
Trinidad South America?
November/29/2007 01:51 PM
I need your help. I have a teammate named Kibwe Trim. I call him Tribwe because thats what I do. Tribwe is from Trinidad. It was funny when he first told he was a "Trinidadian". It led me to call him names such as "Trinidaddy Laong Legs" and "Trick Daddy".
Anyways, he told me that Trinidad was real close to Venezuela. I told him it was probably approximately 8 stones throws away and he didn't disagree. I then said that he was the second South American I've played with. Morro was the first ("...they laugh at Morro"). Well, Tribwe did not respond well to being called South American. In fact, he refuses to admit that he is South American. I told him there is no shame in being South American. I am a proud North American myself, why not be proud?
He continues to argue with me and contends that Trinidad is an island. He actually defines the word island for me (as if I dont know) as a land mass completely surrounded by water. He then says that since it is not connected, he cant be South American. He also argues that nobody Trinidadian will admit to being South American.
I told him that The Philippines are islands not connected to Asia, and that many people dont even call Filipino people Asian, but they are. I told him that my old roommate Richard doesn't consider himself to be European. He says British people wont spend Euros and they dont play football (soccer) like schoolyard pansies. Trinidadians could have similar views.
So, I have a couple of questions for you, the reader:
Does every land mass have a continental association?
If so, then obviously he is South American, right?
I googled "Trinidad South America" and one of the first results I got said: "Start your South American Tour here, in Trinidad". It really got to him I think. Basically if enough people tell me I'm right, I can go to him and have hours of fun asking him to make me Sangria, Tacos, Brazilian BBQ and many other things that have nothing to do with Trinidad at all. Just basically call him latin for my own enjoyment. Let me know!
Anyways, he told me that Trinidad was real close to Venezuela. I told him it was probably approximately 8 stones throws away and he didn't disagree. I then said that he was the second South American I've played with. Morro was the first ("...they laugh at Morro"). Well, Tribwe did not respond well to being called South American. In fact, he refuses to admit that he is South American. I told him there is no shame in being South American. I am a proud North American myself, why not be proud?
He continues to argue with me and contends that Trinidad is an island. He actually defines the word island for me (as if I dont know) as a land mass completely surrounded by water. He then says that since it is not connected, he cant be South American. He also argues that nobody Trinidadian will admit to being South American.
I told him that The Philippines are islands not connected to Asia, and that many people dont even call Filipino people Asian, but they are. I told him that my old roommate Richard doesn't consider himself to be European. He says British people wont spend Euros and they dont play football (soccer) like schoolyard pansies. Trinidadians could have similar views.
So, I have a couple of questions for you, the reader:
Does every land mass have a continental association?
If so, then obviously he is South American, right?
I googled "Trinidad South America" and one of the first results I got said: "Start your South American Tour here, in Trinidad". It really got to him I think. Basically if enough people tell me I'm right, I can go to him and have hours of fun asking him to make me Sangria, Tacos, Brazilian BBQ and many other things that have nothing to do with Trinidad at all. Just basically call him latin for my own enjoyment. Let me know!
It Just Got Real
October/29/2007 01:36 PM
Today I made my return to Bismarck, North Dakota official. I faxed in my contract sealing my season (or hopefully just a part of it) as a D-League baller. You know what I'm saying... like KG except I aint worth a dollar, right?
My contract had the usual agreements on it:
Do you agree to compete in the NBDL?
Yes.
Do you agree to make way less money than you would overseas in hopes that you recieve a call-up and a shot at the NBA life?
Yes.
Do you agree to go back to North Dakota?
Sure.
Do you agree to living in sub zero temperatures and snow for months at a time?
Done it before.
Are you sure, considering that you still don't know how to drive in the snow?
Gotta learn sometime.
Do you agree to 8 hour van rides, 10 day road trips, 5 hour layovers, and flights that always connect through Denver or Mineapolis?
Yes.
Are you sure? Denver is really scary to in and out of with all that turbulence and all.
It's Halloween, there are scarier things. Yes.
Did you look at the schedule and notice that you will not leave the midwest for months?
Uh huh.
Do you agree to playing in for and in front of the best fans in the D-League?
I would do it for free (not really). Yes.
Are you ready to rock?!
Yep.
And roll?
Indeed.
And thus, after signing off on (and mentally agreeing to) all of the above stipulations, I can proclaim my return. I am returning to Bucks, and Stadium, B Dubs and Dennys, the Steak Buffet and Wal Mart, Best Buy and Ressler Chevrolet commercials. Lets rock! You know, and roll...
My contract had the usual agreements on it:
Do you agree to compete in the NBDL?
Yes.
Do you agree to make way less money than you would overseas in hopes that you recieve a call-up and a shot at the NBA life?
Yes.
Do you agree to go back to North Dakota?
Sure.
Do you agree to living in sub zero temperatures and snow for months at a time?
Done it before.
Are you sure, considering that you still don't know how to drive in the snow?
Gotta learn sometime.
Do you agree to 8 hour van rides, 10 day road trips, 5 hour layovers, and flights that always connect through Denver or Mineapolis?
Yes.
Are you sure? Denver is really scary to in and out of with all that turbulence and all.
It's Halloween, there are scarier things. Yes.
Did you look at the schedule and notice that you will not leave the midwest for months?
Uh huh.
Do you agree to playing in for and in front of the best fans in the D-League?
I would do it for free (not really). Yes.
Are you ready to rock?!
Yep.
And roll?
Indeed.
And thus, after signing off on (and mentally agreeing to) all of the above stipulations, I can proclaim my return. I am returning to Bucks, and Stadium, B Dubs and Dennys, the Steak Buffet and Wal Mart, Best Buy and Ressler Chevrolet commercials. Lets rock! You know, and roll...
The Offseason Part 3
August/02/2007 12:27 PM
I'm currently awaiting a phone call from my agent alerting me of who I will go to training camp with (provided that anybody out there wants me). While in wait mode, I got a phone call from the media relations guy (Mike, if that's not your title, my bad) from the NBDL Dakota Wizards, Mike. Mike informed my that the NBA would contact me soon about an appearance they hoped I would do. A few days later I was on the phone with an NBA representative who informed me that the NBA has something called the NBA Fair. The NBA Fair is an NBA attraction that travels to state fairs all over the country. Specifically, the NBA Fair travels to fairs that are outside of traditional NBA Markets.
The NBA agreed to pay me to go to the NBA Fair at North Dakota's state fair in Minot, ND, to sign autographs and play games with the kids. I would be obligated to appear for an hour each day for two days. I figured it would be cool, plus there was money involved, duh.
When I stepped off the plane in North Dakota, there was a local sports reporter there who was ready to interview me. You can watch that here: http://www.kxma.com/video.asp?ArticleId=147564&VideoId=11908
I hadnt been back in Dakota for more than a couple of hours, when my old assistant coach told me to first meet him at some hotel bar where it was ladies night. When I got there, I instantly remembered one thing I loved about North Dakota. Ladies night meant that drinks were $1.30. One dollar and thirty cents? For anything? Gotta love that cost of living.
We eventually left the hotel bar and went to another bar that I had never been to before. I remember thinking that if I had to come back and play for the Wizards again, that these new bars could be my part of my solid rotation. It was right then that a woman gave this guy next to me the eye. It wasn't the usual eye, it was more of a dirty dancing type thing that he fully comprehended, while I was still left wondering. Next thing I know, these two go at it. It was probably the most hilarious dancing scene I have ever seen. Why? First of all, neither of them could dance...at all. Picture Napoleon Dynamite rocking out, alone, in his room, to his D-Kwon's Dance Grooves tape. It was like this guy and this girl at the bar figured out how to be equally, yet choreographically, ridiculous. I think of Sean Williams Scott in American Wedding. I think of Ben Stiller in Starsky and Hutch. Heck, I even think of the Ben Stiller vs Owen Wilson in Zoolander. Combine all of that in your mind and it becomes the dance-a-palooza that I saw these two strangers engage in that night. Just to clarify, this was not a dance bar by any means.
I decided that I needed to get a picture of the dance-a-thon that was taking place before my eyes. I was wondering how to pull it off without disrupting the magic that had now become a series of lap dances on the bar stool in front of me. See, even though they were in the heat of the dance, more people were still staring at me, the 6' 10" black guy who was there outside of basketball season and not the riverdance bandits. I made my mind up to just go for it. I snapped this photo off real quick:
As it turns out, right after the flash of my camera phone went off, she unwrapped her legs from around him, and he backed up off her, and it was done, just like I feared. The photo still captures everything I wanted it to. Besides the fact that her legs are propped up like a wheelbarrow, notice his men's softball league jersey, and her jacket that he, in the madness called Dance, has tied around his forehead like a bandana. Classic. I love all of it.
The next day, Mike and I drove out to Minot which is about an hour and a half away. After checking into our hotel, we headed down to the state fair. As we pulled up to the NBA Fair booth, I was getting kind of hyped. Last week Kris Humphries was here -- a real NBA player. This week? NBDL Champion of the World, and Memhpis Grizzlies (summer league of course) player, Rod Benson.
The booth was pretty big. I wouldn't even call it a booth, really. It had a full NBA sized half court set up on sport court. There were 3 baskets: a 10 foot rim, a 9 footer to the right of the main one, and an 8 footer on the left. To the right of the court was a tent set up with NBA Live 07 on ps3, among other cool NBA stuff that kids would periodically check out.
I sat down on one of the chairs under the pop-up tarp that had all the prizes for participants in the booth. I hadn't been sitting down for more than 5 minutes when I was approached by about 5-7 different people who were on a scavenger hunt at the fair. They had their lists, which I could easily read when they approached me. Number 2 on the list was "Get the autograph of an NBA player". Of course they proceeded to ask me to sign the sheet because I was the NBA player. I wanted to say "Umm, I am an NBDL World Champion and a Memphis Summer League starter, but alas, I am no NBA player". I decided that if I didn't sign the papers, nobody else really could in the whole state. Since I was the closest they were gonna get, I shut my mouth and signed the papers, but it still felt like I was forging my own signature or something.
I headed to the tent in the back where some of the emcees for the event were resting and drinking water, waiting for their turn to get on the mic. We all introduced ourselves. The guy who would be on the court with me during my hour was named Ryan. Ryan informed me that he had read my blog beforehand and since I was "cool", he would spice up our Q and A session a little bit and have some fun with it. I had no objections. I mean, my blog preceded me, gotta live up to the hype!
So, my hour of appearance time came and went. It didn't matter to me. I was having too much fun. I got on the mic and was cracking jokes, playing shooting competitions with the kids, and answering off the wall questions. Ryan and I even spent 20 minutes, aloud, in front of the whole booth, recounting our favorite scenes from the movie "Love Actually". 3 hours later I was still going strong, having fun, keeping the kids hyped up as best I could. I think in a way, I got more respect from the other guys for just having fun and kicking it with them, regardless of time, than anything else.
I was dragged away from the booth by Mike, who reminded me that it was about that time for the Big and Rich concert. Yep, I said it, the Big and Rich concert featuring Cowboy Troy. Big and Rich, for those who don't know, are a big time country music act. Mike informed me that the song I had come to love entitled "I Play Chicken with the Train", was performed by Cowboy Troy himself. Never heard of it? I guess you haven't lived in North Dakota. Let me fill you in on some of the best lyrics of all time:
The NBA agreed to pay me to go to the NBA Fair at North Dakota's state fair in Minot, ND, to sign autographs and play games with the kids. I would be obligated to appear for an hour each day for two days. I figured it would be cool, plus there was money involved, duh.
When I stepped off the plane in North Dakota, there was a local sports reporter there who was ready to interview me. You can watch that here: http://www.kxma.com/video.asp?ArticleId=147564&VideoId=11908
I hadnt been back in Dakota for more than a couple of hours, when my old assistant coach told me to first meet him at some hotel bar where it was ladies night. When I got there, I instantly remembered one thing I loved about North Dakota. Ladies night meant that drinks were $1.30. One dollar and thirty cents? For anything? Gotta love that cost of living.
We eventually left the hotel bar and went to another bar that I had never been to before. I remember thinking that if I had to come back and play for the Wizards again, that these new bars could be my part of my solid rotation. It was right then that a woman gave this guy next to me the eye. It wasn't the usual eye, it was more of a dirty dancing type thing that he fully comprehended, while I was still left wondering. Next thing I know, these two go at it. It was probably the most hilarious dancing scene I have ever seen. Why? First of all, neither of them could dance...at all. Picture Napoleon Dynamite rocking out, alone, in his room, to his D-Kwon's Dance Grooves tape. It was like this guy and this girl at the bar figured out how to be equally, yet choreographically, ridiculous. I think of Sean Williams Scott in American Wedding. I think of Ben Stiller in Starsky and Hutch. Heck, I even think of the Ben Stiller vs Owen Wilson in Zoolander. Combine all of that in your mind and it becomes the dance-a-palooza that I saw these two strangers engage in that night. Just to clarify, this was not a dance bar by any means.
I decided that I needed to get a picture of the dance-a-thon that was taking place before my eyes. I was wondering how to pull it off without disrupting the magic that had now become a series of lap dances on the bar stool in front of me. See, even though they were in the heat of the dance, more people were still staring at me, the 6' 10" black guy who was there outside of basketball season and not the riverdance bandits. I made my mind up to just go for it. I snapped this photo off real quick:
As it turns out, right after the flash of my camera phone went off, she unwrapped her legs from around him, and he backed up off her, and it was done, just like I feared. The photo still captures everything I wanted it to. Besides the fact that her legs are propped up like a wheelbarrow, notice his men's softball league jersey, and her jacket that he, in the madness called Dance, has tied around his forehead like a bandana. Classic. I love all of it.
The next day, Mike and I drove out to Minot which is about an hour and a half away. After checking into our hotel, we headed down to the state fair. As we pulled up to the NBA Fair booth, I was getting kind of hyped. Last week Kris Humphries was here -- a real NBA player. This week? NBDL Champion of the World, and Memhpis Grizzlies (summer league of course) player, Rod Benson.
The booth was pretty big. I wouldn't even call it a booth, really. It had a full NBA sized half court set up on sport court. There were 3 baskets: a 10 foot rim, a 9 footer to the right of the main one, and an 8 footer on the left. To the right of the court was a tent set up with NBA Live 07 on ps3, among other cool NBA stuff that kids would periodically check out.
I sat down on one of the chairs under the pop-up tarp that had all the prizes for participants in the booth. I hadn't been sitting down for more than 5 minutes when I was approached by about 5-7 different people who were on a scavenger hunt at the fair. They had their lists, which I could easily read when they approached me. Number 2 on the list was "Get the autograph of an NBA player". Of course they proceeded to ask me to sign the sheet because I was the NBA player. I wanted to say "Umm, I am an NBDL World Champion and a Memphis Summer League starter, but alas, I am no NBA player". I decided that if I didn't sign the papers, nobody else really could in the whole state. Since I was the closest they were gonna get, I shut my mouth and signed the papers, but it still felt like I was forging my own signature or something.
I headed to the tent in the back where some of the emcees for the event were resting and drinking water, waiting for their turn to get on the mic. We all introduced ourselves. The guy who would be on the court with me during my hour was named Ryan. Ryan informed me that he had read my blog beforehand and since I was "cool", he would spice up our Q and A session a little bit and have some fun with it. I had no objections. I mean, my blog preceded me, gotta live up to the hype!
So, my hour of appearance time came and went. It didn't matter to me. I was having too much fun. I got on the mic and was cracking jokes, playing shooting competitions with the kids, and answering off the wall questions. Ryan and I even spent 20 minutes, aloud, in front of the whole booth, recounting our favorite scenes from the movie "Love Actually". 3 hours later I was still going strong, having fun, keeping the kids hyped up as best I could. I think in a way, I got more respect from the other guys for just having fun and kicking it with them, regardless of time, than anything else.
I was dragged away from the booth by Mike, who reminded me that it was about that time for the Big and Rich concert. Yep, I said it, the Big and Rich concert featuring Cowboy Troy. Big and Rich, for those who don't know, are a big time country music act. Mike informed me that the song I had come to love entitled "I Play Chicken with the Train", was performed by Cowboy Troy himself. Never heard of it? I guess you haven't lived in North Dakota. Let me fill you in on some of the best lyrics of all time:
I play chicken with the train play chicken with the train train, uh huh huh uh huh huh,
You know that I play chicken with the train play chicken with the train train uh huh huh uh huh huh yea,
Who? The big black neck commin' through to you boy you done fell and bumped you head uh huh,
That's what they said,
People say it's impossible, not probable, too radical,
But I already been on the CMA's,
Hell Tim McGraw said he liked the change,
That he likes the way my Hick-hop sounds and the way the crowd screams when I stomp the ground,
Now, big and black, clickty clack and I make the train jump the track like that
I love this song, albeit that it is country music, because there are times when I, being big and black, go clickity clack, and make train jump off the track. You don't like it? Well then boy you done fell and bumped yo head!
Mike and I used our free tickets (they cost $60 normally, for country? really?) and heard Cowboy Troy's legendary track as we walked through the front doors. I've never been to a country concert before, so it was a hell of a scene. For one, everybody had on the "bundle" as I call it. The bundle looks something like this:
Cowboy hat, tucked in button down shirt, usually flannel, and boots. When I saw Cowboy Troy on stage, I knew he was still true to his black man roots, because his bundle was a little bit baggier than the rest. I bet his was designed by Sean John or Roca Wear. Mike kept telling people that Troy was my brother. Some people actually believed it. How could you really believe that? Do you see what this guy is wearing? Baggy or not, I am definitely bundle-less.
cowboy hats at cowboy troy
Big and Rich took the stage next. I must say that it was pretty electric, even though I'm not a country fan. The people seemed to love it. Country is the rap of the midwest, I determined. Ryan from the NBA Fair caught up with us, and we headed over to beer table at the far end of the concert. We pretty much enjoyed the rest of the concert from the beer tables.
the view from the beer area was a little farther
We had been at the beer area for over an hour when Big and Rich played the song I heard more than any other song while I was in North Dakota last season. The song is called "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy". I have been known to sing my own, remixed, version of the song in which I say "Save a life, ride Rod Benson." I don't even think that makes any sense, but I'm no cowboy, therefore horses are irrelevant to me. I don't think I'd ever heard 10,000 people sing a country song together at one time, until that very moment when John RIch (I don't know how I know his first name) got up on stage and began his PETA friendly song.
I left Minot and the NBA Fair on Sunday and headed back to sacramento. I was forced to check the Taylor Made Driver a golf pro sold me for $50. Luckily it didn't break and it actually made it out here. I hope the NBA calls me with some other app
I'm currently in Sacramento right now, working out on a daily basis at Basketball Town. This past week I have played against such competition as Matt Barnes, Ricky Davis, Justin WIlliams, Quincy Douby, Bobby Jackson, and Mike WIlks. If there's any place to get better it's here. If there's any time to get better (cliche, so what) it's now. Hopefully my next "The Offseason" post will include my invitation to training camp.
Jerome Beasely Strikes Back
April/17/2007 11:09 AM
If you remember before, Jerome Beasely claimed that he can do everything. If it can be done, he can do it. Well I got flooded with suggestions of things you thought he couldn’t do. You were all wrong. He can do everything you asked of him. Yea, that’s right. Everything. I know some of you are like “No way, mine was IMPOSSIBLE.” Alas, he can do them all. The only thing he says he can’t do is be a woman, so those of you who suggested pregnancy win by default I guess. Everyone else? You lose. He can do them all...well, so he says. I picked out some of my favorites that were sent to me so you can be the judge. Is JB all talk or can he really do everything? Let’s see...
JB can you...
Become an 8th Degree blackbelt?
Easy, yes, I’m already 1st degree
Drink a gallon of milk in a half hour?
Yes, as long as I can throw up
Climb a brick wall?
How high is the wall?
Eat a stick of butter in a minute?
Yes, with my drink of choice
Juggle 5 basketballs?
Yes, with an hour of practice
Complete every dunk that ever won an NBA Dunk contest?
Yes, what height rim?
Swallow a sword?
What size sword?
Lie on a Lie detector and pass?
Of course I can, it checks heart rate and pulse, thats easy
Fill out a March Madness bracket exactly right?
Yes, with the assistance of a psychic.
Win American Idol?
Yes, the people would love me
Beat Rod Benson at Madden? (yea right)
Yes, with the same amount of practice I would destroy him
Kiss your elbow?
Yes, I can lick it and I consdier that kissing
Keep your eyes open while sneezing?
Depends on how hard the sneeze is
Whistle within 10 seconds of sucking on a lemon?
Build up you saliva glands and it’s easy
Eat 15 saltine crackers in a minute?
With or without a drink?
Dunk on a 12 foot rim?
Thats easy. I’m 6’11” with a 36 inch vert. What do you think?
Get Halle Berry’s number?
Thats easy. You just gotta catch her at the right time. At a cafe by herself it’s guaranteed. In front of all the cameras and bright lights, it would be harder, but not impossible. If shes married then no, I dont do that.
Turn a gay man straight?
Yes. Let him watch me and the baddest girl f*#k, he would see how much fun it is. After that he would want to take part and hit it too.
Do a handstand for 2 minutes and not lean against a wall to get yourself up or stay up?
That’s a good question because you are specific, however, with 3 days practice, guaranteed.
Have someone touch the back of your throat and not gag?
If a sexy woman asked me to then yes. Rod, you mean to tell me that if Jennifer Lopez said ‘Rod if you don’t gag I’ll f*%k the sh*t out of you’ you would still gag?
Could you cook a Hot Pocket so hot that not even YOU could eat it? (My personal favorite)
Yes, all I need is ice water.
Well that’s about it. Looks like all of you failed at finding something JB can’t do. I suggest you try harder.
JB can you...
Become an 8th Degree blackbelt?
Easy, yes, I’m already 1st degree
Drink a gallon of milk in a half hour?
Yes, as long as I can throw up
Climb a brick wall?
How high is the wall?
Eat a stick of butter in a minute?
Yes, with my drink of choice
Juggle 5 basketballs?
Yes, with an hour of practice
Complete every dunk that ever won an NBA Dunk contest?
Yes, what height rim?
Swallow a sword?
What size sword?
Lie on a Lie detector and pass?
Of course I can, it checks heart rate and pulse, thats easy
Fill out a March Madness bracket exactly right?
Yes, with the assistance of a psychic.
Win American Idol?
Yes, the people would love me
Beat Rod Benson at Madden? (yea right)
Yes, with the same amount of practice I would destroy him
Kiss your elbow?
Yes, I can lick it and I consdier that kissing
Keep your eyes open while sneezing?
Depends on how hard the sneeze is
Whistle within 10 seconds of sucking on a lemon?
Build up you saliva glands and it’s easy
Eat 15 saltine crackers in a minute?
With or without a drink?
Dunk on a 12 foot rim?
Thats easy. I’m 6’11” with a 36 inch vert. What do you think?
Get Halle Berry’s number?
Thats easy. You just gotta catch her at the right time. At a cafe by herself it’s guaranteed. In front of all the cameras and bright lights, it would be harder, but not impossible. If shes married then no, I dont do that.
Turn a gay man straight?
Yes. Let him watch me and the baddest girl f*#k, he would see how much fun it is. After that he would want to take part and hit it too.
Do a handstand for 2 minutes and not lean against a wall to get yourself up or stay up?
That’s a good question because you are specific, however, with 3 days practice, guaranteed.
Have someone touch the back of your throat and not gag?
If a sexy woman asked me to then yes. Rod, you mean to tell me that if Jennifer Lopez said ‘Rod if you don’t gag I’ll f*%k the sh*t out of you’ you would still gag?
Could you cook a Hot Pocket so hot that not even YOU could eat it? (My personal favorite)
Yes, all I need is ice water.
Well that’s about it. Looks like all of you failed at finding something JB can’t do. I suggest you try harder.
We Got It Done - No Homo
April/15/2007 11:07 AM
You’ve seen it a hundred times. There is a team who wins a championship. They head back to the locker room jubilant as the camera crews follow them in. The lockers are already covered with plastic and the hats and t-shirts are already coming out the their boxes. All of a sudden, someone pops open a bottle of champagne and the madness begins. That’s what it’s all about. Champions.
Well, as the new D-League regular season champions, we had a very similar celebration. We walked back up to the second floor of the Austin convention center. We made our way into the locker room and said a few “no-homo” jokes. There was no plastic to cover the lockers, and there were no t-shirts and hats. There was no champagne either. There were 13 guys -- 10 players, 2 coaches, 1 trainer -- and a bottle of cheap vodka. “Pour me a shot into this Gatorade bottle.” Thus the celebration began. Each of us toasted our Gatorade “Rain” - Vodka mix. The strain of a long season showed on pretty much everyones faces. As for me, it was kind of funny, yet fitting. This was the exact place I had started the season back in November: in Austin, as a Toro, under the late Dennis Johnson, playing the small forward, starting out the season 0-12, not knowing a thing about pro basketball. Now I’ve got my drink, toasting the best record in the League for the Wizards, playing the post, living in North Dakota. Funny how that works. There was actually a pretty tight celebration when we got back to Bismarck. Some of our greatest fans were waiting for us at the airport which was awesome. That is why when we win the whole thing I will feel much more rewarded, because the fans will be there to take it in with us.
While we were still in Austin, we hit the town and partied like the champions we are. It was cool to be back partying in Austin where all the crazy people live. Only there could you see a guy like this and not think it was odd:
Yea he definitely is wearing a thong right there in case you were suspicious. Hey, that’s just Austin for you. “Keep Austin Weird” is what they say. Still not Berkeley weird, but weird none the less. Crazy as it may be, it’s still one of the best places to party because you can dance on top of any bar in town...
and meet random people all night long...
See, that’s my “I don’t know you, but you asked to take a picture, so I did” face.
What was a bit ridiculous about the whole 3 day affair in Austin was that I had to get drug tested again. I was drug tested on the first day of the season and the last day, and I must say that you never really get used to having another grown man watch you pull down you pants and piss in front of him into a cup. I mean, I guess this is how it has to be because of people who try to fake the tests. I honestly had no idea what a “Wizzonator” was until I had an NBDL drug test. A “Wizzonator” is a fake penis that I guess you somehow fill with someone elses piss and it does the pissing for you during the test. I can only imagine how ridiculous Ontario Smith felt being caught using a coddamn Wizzonator. He must have used the white one instead of the black model. Either way, because of past cheaters, now the guy who does the testing has to watch you pull down your pants while you sum up the energy to piss for him. I swear I had to go real bad before I went in there, but the pressure got to me. I mean, it’s not just the pressure to go, but I mean, another man is about to stare at your penis for hella long... it’s not very comfortable. What was worse for me was, there was another guy in there who was talking with the tester right before I had to go. He says to his buddy: “Last week I had to test Amare Stoudemire and Tim Duncan, now Im here with these guys.” Hmm, really? Great. Now I have to measure up to the big boys. I have gotten good reviews in the past..I mean I am Rod Benson and everything...you know... TOO MUCH... but this is about a lot more now, now Im going one on one with big Timmy. I feel like the guy is staring right through me. He is just sizing me up thinking to himself: “Yea, this guy isn’t NBA Calibre...I wouldn’t give him a call-up based off this,” or he’s saying “Wow, get this guy a 10 day right now.” Either way, It’s bad. I mean he probably isn’t thinking that, but the fact that he could be thinking that is really bothering me. You don’t just name drop the last two guys you saw naked then close me into the coddamn bathroom stall. Now I realize that I’ve been there, with my pants down, for about 4 minutes while he keeps flushing the toilet thinking it will make me go faster when the truth is I’m not even focused on the task at hand. It took basically everything I had to just focus and get out of there.
See, that whole story needs one big “No Homo” at the end of it. Why? Because I don’t even feel comfortable thinking sentences that may be “homo” if said out loud anymore. It has definitely gotten worse since my last post about it. My teammate Darius has had just about enough of this “No Homo” madness. I think he’s not the only one. The fact is, it’s just too deep -- no homo. I got a ton of emails about some crazy no homo things you guys have going on. There were some creative ways to try to break the cycle too, but I must say that those methods don’t fly here. Someone suggested to me to just “say something so blatantly homo that everyone will know that you’re not playing that game.” Well I would have tried that but my boy Jerome Beasely beat me to it. I don’t know what he originally said, but some guys on the team called him out “Hey, you better say ‘no homo’!” Jerome says, “I don’t play that no homo garbage. I have kids, everybody knows where I stand. I’ll say whatever I want.” Someone tries to bait him: “No, you won’t just say anything. I bet you won’t.” Before he can even finish the word “won’t”, Jerome says, aloud for everyone to hear, “D*ck is nice.” My eyes light up. No way did he just say that. This “No Homo” thing is way too big right now (no homo) to say a statement like that. Everyone in the room erupts. People are literally running in and out (no homo) of the locker room looking for someone to tell. I’m just in shock, I can’t move. It was the same shock I felt when Boise State ran the Statue of Liberty play to win the game. It’s like how do I react to this? On one hand, I do find it extremely funny, but on the other, this has to stop somewhere...why not here? Well my laughter took over eventually, like everyone else. It’s just a shame because I don’t know if it will ever really stop. “Q, show me what you got. Make it hard.” Yea, somebody said that yesterday and I texted it to the whole team. The context? Bowling. Does it matter? No. No homo came 3 seconds to late. I’ve been told that you can’t use the following words:
big
small
in, out
up, down
play
it
hard
soft
ball(s)
delicious
enormous
That is the current list of words that are not approved. It’s absurd. I want out so bad, but I can’t escape. Today, I tried the JB method. Someone said “Hey that was really weak.” I responded with “Well, I didn’t want it to be HARD!” A couple guys stared at me. “Are you waiting for me to say no homo? Well it aint comin! I just pulled out.... (4 second pause) of the no homo game.” Right there were 4 infractions. 1. it. 2. HARD. 3. comin! 4. pulled out. I must say that this seemed to work. Not that they didn’t think I broke the rules, but that it was just too much to handle. Too much to make fun of me for in a short time. That lasted until I got in the Van and said “I like this place better” as I sat down. How is that even against the rules? Beats me (no homo). I hope when season is over, that I can go back to just talking....who knows...
Well, as the new D-League regular season champions, we had a very similar celebration. We walked back up to the second floor of the Austin convention center. We made our way into the locker room and said a few “no-homo” jokes. There was no plastic to cover the lockers, and there were no t-shirts and hats. There was no champagne either. There were 13 guys -- 10 players, 2 coaches, 1 trainer -- and a bottle of cheap vodka. “Pour me a shot into this Gatorade bottle.” Thus the celebration began. Each of us toasted our Gatorade “Rain” - Vodka mix. The strain of a long season showed on pretty much everyones faces. As for me, it was kind of funny, yet fitting. This was the exact place I had started the season back in November: in Austin, as a Toro, under the late Dennis Johnson, playing the small forward, starting out the season 0-12, not knowing a thing about pro basketball. Now I’ve got my drink, toasting the best record in the League for the Wizards, playing the post, living in North Dakota. Funny how that works. There was actually a pretty tight celebration when we got back to Bismarck. Some of our greatest fans were waiting for us at the airport which was awesome. That is why when we win the whole thing I will feel much more rewarded, because the fans will be there to take it in with us.
While we were still in Austin, we hit the town and partied like the champions we are. It was cool to be back partying in Austin where all the crazy people live. Only there could you see a guy like this and not think it was odd:
Yea he definitely is wearing a thong right there in case you were suspicious. Hey, that’s just Austin for you. “Keep Austin Weird” is what they say. Still not Berkeley weird, but weird none the less. Crazy as it may be, it’s still one of the best places to party because you can dance on top of any bar in town...
and meet random people all night long...
See, that’s my “I don’t know you, but you asked to take a picture, so I did” face.
What was a bit ridiculous about the whole 3 day affair in Austin was that I had to get drug tested again. I was drug tested on the first day of the season and the last day, and I must say that you never really get used to having another grown man watch you pull down you pants and piss in front of him into a cup. I mean, I guess this is how it has to be because of people who try to fake the tests. I honestly had no idea what a “Wizzonator” was until I had an NBDL drug test. A “Wizzonator” is a fake penis that I guess you somehow fill with someone elses piss and it does the pissing for you during the test. I can only imagine how ridiculous Ontario Smith felt being caught using a coddamn Wizzonator. He must have used the white one instead of the black model. Either way, because of past cheaters, now the guy who does the testing has to watch you pull down your pants while you sum up the energy to piss for him. I swear I had to go real bad before I went in there, but the pressure got to me. I mean, it’s not just the pressure to go, but I mean, another man is about to stare at your penis for hella long... it’s not very comfortable. What was worse for me was, there was another guy in there who was talking with the tester right before I had to go. He says to his buddy: “Last week I had to test Amare Stoudemire and Tim Duncan, now Im here with these guys.” Hmm, really? Great. Now I have to measure up to the big boys. I have gotten good reviews in the past..I mean I am Rod Benson and everything...you know... TOO MUCH... but this is about a lot more now, now Im going one on one with big Timmy. I feel like the guy is staring right through me. He is just sizing me up thinking to himself: “Yea, this guy isn’t NBA Calibre...I wouldn’t give him a call-up based off this,” or he’s saying “Wow, get this guy a 10 day right now.” Either way, It’s bad. I mean he probably isn’t thinking that, but the fact that he could be thinking that is really bothering me. You don’t just name drop the last two guys you saw naked then close me into the coddamn bathroom stall. Now I realize that I’ve been there, with my pants down, for about 4 minutes while he keeps flushing the toilet thinking it will make me go faster when the truth is I’m not even focused on the task at hand. It took basically everything I had to just focus and get out of there.
See, that whole story needs one big “No Homo” at the end of it. Why? Because I don’t even feel comfortable thinking sentences that may be “homo” if said out loud anymore. It has definitely gotten worse since my last post about it. My teammate Darius has had just about enough of this “No Homo” madness. I think he’s not the only one. The fact is, it’s just too deep -- no homo. I got a ton of emails about some crazy no homo things you guys have going on. There were some creative ways to try to break the cycle too, but I must say that those methods don’t fly here. Someone suggested to me to just “say something so blatantly homo that everyone will know that you’re not playing that game.” Well I would have tried that but my boy Jerome Beasely beat me to it. I don’t know what he originally said, but some guys on the team called him out “Hey, you better say ‘no homo’!” Jerome says, “I don’t play that no homo garbage. I have kids, everybody knows where I stand. I’ll say whatever I want.” Someone tries to bait him: “No, you won’t just say anything. I bet you won’t.” Before he can even finish the word “won’t”, Jerome says, aloud for everyone to hear, “D*ck is nice.” My eyes light up. No way did he just say that. This “No Homo” thing is way too big right now (no homo) to say a statement like that. Everyone in the room erupts. People are literally running in and out (no homo) of the locker room looking for someone to tell. I’m just in shock, I can’t move. It was the same shock I felt when Boise State ran the Statue of Liberty play to win the game. It’s like how do I react to this? On one hand, I do find it extremely funny, but on the other, this has to stop somewhere...why not here? Well my laughter took over eventually, like everyone else. It’s just a shame because I don’t know if it will ever really stop. “Q, show me what you got. Make it hard.” Yea, somebody said that yesterday and I texted it to the whole team. The context? Bowling. Does it matter? No. No homo came 3 seconds to late. I’ve been told that you can’t use the following words:
big
small
in, out
up, down
play
it
hard
soft
ball(s)
delicious
enormous
That is the current list of words that are not approved. It’s absurd. I want out so bad, but I can’t escape. Today, I tried the JB method. Someone said “Hey that was really weak.” I responded with “Well, I didn’t want it to be HARD!” A couple guys stared at me. “Are you waiting for me to say no homo? Well it aint comin! I just pulled out.... (4 second pause) of the no homo game.” Right there were 4 infractions. 1. it. 2. HARD. 3. comin! 4. pulled out. I must say that this seemed to work. Not that they didn’t think I broke the rules, but that it was just too much to handle. Too much to make fun of me for in a short time. That lasted until I got in the Van and said “I like this place better” as I sat down. How is that even against the rules? Beats me (no homo). I hope when season is over, that I can go back to just talking....who knows...
D-League-ing It
April/02/2007 11:05 AM
I haven’t written a thing in 3 weeks. Why? Well I’ll say it has 30% to do with the fact that I play Madden during my usual blog time, but also because I was in the middle of a very productive month on the court. Since I’ve sucked the last few games, I guess I can get back to my old bloggin’ ways.
It’s been a long few weeks but there havent been a lot of developments on and off the court. This month saw such events as my 27 point 14 rebound game, but also such events as my 2 point 3 rebound game where I was ejected with two techs. Yea, me, Rod Benson ejected with two techs. People who know me know that it takes quite a lot to get me mad. Many people dont even know what an angry, frustrated, kick-me-out-of-the-game-before-I-lose-my-mind Rod Benson looks like...here’s an example:
Yep, definitely got a Tech here. It would be easy to blame the refs, but it’s not really their fault, I get frustrated when I play badly. It’s even worse when I’ve been playing so well all month. Although I must say that one game I got hammered in the back and that set me off, and I apologized to the ref who I went off on later, only to have another ref talk to me on a plane flight and tell me that I just tripped over someones foot. C’mon now? Word? I’m just that clumsy that I throw myself over other peoples feet? Gotta be kiddin me. I actually heard one player on the other team say about that ref: “I just want to be him up!” All that aside, it’s almost playoff time, so all the games will be crazy.
Off the court has been a little more interesting. Well, for starters, there has been this thing that has taken over our team socially. It’s called “No Homo”. No homo basically means “I’m not gay”. Now, we are by no means homophobic, but I swear if you say anything remotely gay, you better say “no homo” afterwards or somebody will call you on it. What I used to do, back home in California, was say “That’s what she said” after such comments. Not anymore. My first week here I was hearing people toss out this “No Homo” thing left and right. Now it has gotten so bad that you can’t say anything without hearing “no homo.” Basically if you talk about anything without making it clear what that thing is, you’re probably in a world of hurt. Let’s say your legs hurt so bad you can hardly walk. Don’t you dare say “Dang, I’m hurtin so bad I can hardly walk.” Ok for example, one of my teammates was putting on his deoderant -- couldn’t be a less “homo” thing, right -- and I guess he had applied quite a bit of it already. Well someone asks him “Why do you put so much on?” He replies, “I don’t know, I just keep rubbing it til the white shows up.” Oh my Lord did he get an ear full for not saying “no homo” after. It’s gotten so bad that we can be in the huddle now. Coach will say “Why can’t we get any balls inside?” I swear guys will look at each other like “He better say no homo.” It’s crazy because we play a sport. A sport that involves balls, no less. You can’t say anything sports related at all. “Dang I only got 2 balls tonight.” Nope, can’t say that. So now we are wrapped up in this “no homo” mess and we can’t get out. I, personally, and pushing for a return to “That’s what she said.” That way we can all enjoy our gross sports statements.
We did have one guy who never bought into the “no homo” nonsense. We picked up a 6’11” Brazilian kid named Morro. Morro speaks almost zero english. He has since been released and signed by the Tulsa 66ers, but it was real interesting while he was here. All he knows is cuss words. To me this is hilarious because it makes his points a lot more emphasized that they need to be. For example, he hardly got any playing time because the communication barrier was too strong. As a result he was always angry about his playing situation. We were roomates in the hotel when we went to Austin. Out of the blue he says to me: “My agent is motherf*#ker. Coach is motherf*#ker.” I start to laugh and I ask him why. He says “No money, no play? Both motherf*#ker.” HAHA. I speak real broken, simple english to him and I say “It no that bad. Be good. Patient Morro.” Morro then grabs my laptop and goes to brazilbasket.com. I had never heard of brazilbasket but I can only assume it’s run by the same people as eurobasket, the largest international basketball website. The writing is in all portugese so I can’t understand any of it. He points to the very front page. “MORRO: 0, 0, 0, 0... blah blah blah portugese nonsense.” I ask him what that means in the best way I can. He says “Morro no play. Brazilbasket say Morro no play, Morro no good.” I say “Noooooo. No say that.” He replies “Yes! Nene? NBA. Vinicius? NBA. Barboza? NBA. Morro? The laugh at Morro!” I couldn’t help but laugh too. I mean that was hella funny. In the end, he switched teams and it worked out just fine for the guy.
Taking Morro’s place on our roster is a guy by the name of Jerome Beasely. Jerome used to play for the Wizards, right before I got here. I specifically remember him posterizing Brad Buckman while I was still in Austin. Well he’s back. I had no idea this guy was such a character. He might even be more of a character than me. The thing about Jerome is that he is all about wordplay. Like today he says “You’re tired because you just need to be home, in your sanctuary.” He takes pleasure from throwing out words like sanctuary. Jerome also thinks he can do everything. Like Renaldo is watching a Jet Li movie. There are obviously many Jet Li moves that get OOhh’s and AAaah’s from a normal audience. Jerome? He says “Those are basic moves really. He isn’t doing anything really advanced. Although later in the movie he will do some more uncommon moves that I will be able to complete soon.” Huh? What? Did you just call Jet Li’s upside down Chinese flying movie bicycle kick a common move? I could only imagine his 6’10” 270 lb. self trying to do a round house kick against Jet Li. But Jerome says he is a first degree blackbelt and that one day he will reach the 8th degree. It was when he said that that people started to look at him crazy. Actually, I guess it was just me, because everyone else says “That’s just J.B.” Well I didn’t know all that. Someone said to him “You are just a man of many talents, huh?” He replied “Yea, well actually there are only two or three things I can’t do.” I said “Hold up, hold up. You mean like two or three out of all the things in the world that can be done? Like everything, only 2 or 3 can’t be completed by J.B.?” “That’s exactly right, I can do about everything in the world except 2-3 things,” he replies. This really bothers me for some reason. Not in an angry way, but like a O.K. he can’t be serious kind of way. So I sit back and make a list of things I KNOW he can’t do. I text it to him:
Things u probly cant do
1. Tight rope walk
2. Hit a Barry Zito curve
3. Surf a wave
4. Recite Pi to 50 places
5. Define Hypotenuse
6. Compete in the worlds strongest man
7. Start a fire in the woods w/o matches or lighter
I tried to incorporate things from all areas of life, just to shut him down. To my surprise I got this back:
I can do all of them.
What? Who are you guy? You can’t possible believe that! So I see him a few minutes later and I say to him “There’s no way you can tightrope walk.” He says “It’s all about balance and focus.” I say “And you can do the strongman competition?” “All you said was can I compete, yea I can compete.” Interesting. I let it go for a while because I realize that he is not all about believing that he can do these things, but that he is about saying the right things to where you can’t prove him wrong. I later say “You can’t swim the english channel.” He says “If you give me enough time.” See all he is looking for in a verbal out. I get it. But I did get him to admit that he couldn’t say Pi to 50 places, but even that was a struggle: “SO what is Pi, to 50 places?” “Well you need to give me the time to think about it,” he says. I say “If you know it you know it, only geniuses can do something like that. I only know to four places.” He, of course, replies “Well you do know what classifies a genius right? See they say we only use 10% of our brain, so if you use 11% you’re a genius.” I guess he wins again, for now. But I would appreciate if you could suggest things that Beasley can’t do in the comments section. I actually think he would get a kick out of saying how he could do them. He actually is enjoying me writing this right now.
It’s been a long few weeks but there havent been a lot of developments on and off the court. This month saw such events as my 27 point 14 rebound game, but also such events as my 2 point 3 rebound game where I was ejected with two techs. Yea, me, Rod Benson ejected with two techs. People who know me know that it takes quite a lot to get me mad. Many people dont even know what an angry, frustrated, kick-me-out-of-the-game-before-I-lose-my-mind Rod Benson looks like...here’s an example:
Yep, definitely got a Tech here. It would be easy to blame the refs, but it’s not really their fault, I get frustrated when I play badly. It’s even worse when I’ve been playing so well all month. Although I must say that one game I got hammered in the back and that set me off, and I apologized to the ref who I went off on later, only to have another ref talk to me on a plane flight and tell me that I just tripped over someones foot. C’mon now? Word? I’m just that clumsy that I throw myself over other peoples feet? Gotta be kiddin me. I actually heard one player on the other team say about that ref: “I just want to be him up!” All that aside, it’s almost playoff time, so all the games will be crazy.
Off the court has been a little more interesting. Well, for starters, there has been this thing that has taken over our team socially. It’s called “No Homo”. No homo basically means “I’m not gay”. Now, we are by no means homophobic, but I swear if you say anything remotely gay, you better say “no homo” afterwards or somebody will call you on it. What I used to do, back home in California, was say “That’s what she said” after such comments. Not anymore. My first week here I was hearing people toss out this “No Homo” thing left and right. Now it has gotten so bad that you can’t say anything without hearing “no homo.” Basically if you talk about anything without making it clear what that thing is, you’re probably in a world of hurt. Let’s say your legs hurt so bad you can hardly walk. Don’t you dare say “Dang, I’m hurtin so bad I can hardly walk.” Ok for example, one of my teammates was putting on his deoderant -- couldn’t be a less “homo” thing, right -- and I guess he had applied quite a bit of it already. Well someone asks him “Why do you put so much on?” He replies, “I don’t know, I just keep rubbing it til the white shows up.” Oh my Lord did he get an ear full for not saying “no homo” after. It’s gotten so bad that we can be in the huddle now. Coach will say “Why can’t we get any balls inside?” I swear guys will look at each other like “He better say no homo.” It’s crazy because we play a sport. A sport that involves balls, no less. You can’t say anything sports related at all. “Dang I only got 2 balls tonight.” Nope, can’t say that. So now we are wrapped up in this “no homo” mess and we can’t get out. I, personally, and pushing for a return to “That’s what she said.” That way we can all enjoy our gross sports statements.
We did have one guy who never bought into the “no homo” nonsense. We picked up a 6’11” Brazilian kid named Morro. Morro speaks almost zero english. He has since been released and signed by the Tulsa 66ers, but it was real interesting while he was here. All he knows is cuss words. To me this is hilarious because it makes his points a lot more emphasized that they need to be. For example, he hardly got any playing time because the communication barrier was too strong. As a result he was always angry about his playing situation. We were roomates in the hotel when we went to Austin. Out of the blue he says to me: “My agent is motherf*#ker. Coach is motherf*#ker.” I start to laugh and I ask him why. He says “No money, no play? Both motherf*#ker.” HAHA. I speak real broken, simple english to him and I say “It no that bad. Be good. Patient Morro.” Morro then grabs my laptop and goes to brazilbasket.com. I had never heard of brazilbasket but I can only assume it’s run by the same people as eurobasket, the largest international basketball website. The writing is in all portugese so I can’t understand any of it. He points to the very front page. “MORRO: 0, 0, 0, 0... blah blah blah portugese nonsense.” I ask him what that means in the best way I can. He says “Morro no play. Brazilbasket say Morro no play, Morro no good.” I say “Noooooo. No say that.” He replies “Yes! Nene? NBA. Vinicius? NBA. Barboza? NBA. Morro? The laugh at Morro!” I couldn’t help but laugh too. I mean that was hella funny. In the end, he switched teams and it worked out just fine for the guy.
Taking Morro’s place on our roster is a guy by the name of Jerome Beasely. Jerome used to play for the Wizards, right before I got here. I specifically remember him posterizing Brad Buckman while I was still in Austin. Well he’s back. I had no idea this guy was such a character. He might even be more of a character than me. The thing about Jerome is that he is all about wordplay. Like today he says “You’re tired because you just need to be home, in your sanctuary.” He takes pleasure from throwing out words like sanctuary. Jerome also thinks he can do everything. Like Renaldo is watching a Jet Li movie. There are obviously many Jet Li moves that get OOhh’s and AAaah’s from a normal audience. Jerome? He says “Those are basic moves really. He isn’t doing anything really advanced. Although later in the movie he will do some more uncommon moves that I will be able to complete soon.” Huh? What? Did you just call Jet Li’s upside down Chinese flying movie bicycle kick a common move? I could only imagine his 6’10” 270 lb. self trying to do a round house kick against Jet Li. But Jerome says he is a first degree blackbelt and that one day he will reach the 8th degree. It was when he said that that people started to look at him crazy. Actually, I guess it was just me, because everyone else says “That’s just J.B.” Well I didn’t know all that. Someone said to him “You are just a man of many talents, huh?” He replied “Yea, well actually there are only two or three things I can’t do.” I said “Hold up, hold up. You mean like two or three out of all the things in the world that can be done? Like everything, only 2 or 3 can’t be completed by J.B.?” “That’s exactly right, I can do about everything in the world except 2-3 things,” he replies. This really bothers me for some reason. Not in an angry way, but like a O.K. he can’t be serious kind of way. So I sit back and make a list of things I KNOW he can’t do. I text it to him:
Things u probly cant do
1. Tight rope walk
2. Hit a Barry Zito curve
3. Surf a wave
4. Recite Pi to 50 places
5. Define Hypotenuse
6. Compete in the worlds strongest man
7. Start a fire in the woods w/o matches or lighter
I tried to incorporate things from all areas of life, just to shut him down. To my surprise I got this back:
I can do all of them.
What? Who are you guy? You can’t possible believe that! So I see him a few minutes later and I say to him “There’s no way you can tightrope walk.” He says “It’s all about balance and focus.” I say “And you can do the strongman competition?” “All you said was can I compete, yea I can compete.” Interesting. I let it go for a while because I realize that he is not all about believing that he can do these things, but that he is about saying the right things to where you can’t prove him wrong. I later say “You can’t swim the english channel.” He says “If you give me enough time.” See all he is looking for in a verbal out. I get it. But I did get him to admit that he couldn’t say Pi to 50 places, but even that was a struggle: “SO what is Pi, to 50 places?” “Well you need to give me the time to think about it,” he says. I say “If you know it you know it, only geniuses can do something like that. I only know to four places.” He, of course, replies “Well you do know what classifies a genius right? See they say we only use 10% of our brain, so if you use 11% you’re a genius.” I guess he wins again, for now. But I would appreciate if you could suggest things that Beasley can’t do in the comments section. I actually think he would get a kick out of saying how he could do them. He actually is enjoying me writing this right now.
Pick-Up Attempt
March/10/2007 10:46 AM
I see some of the most ridiculous pick up attempts of all time, almost on a daily basis. Usually it’s along the lines of a loud yell like “AY!” or, “Can I buy you a drink?”, or something else that I know that the girl can’t possibly go for, but sometimes it’s a little worse.
A few days ago I saw one of the funnier attempts I’ve seen in a while took place right in front of me. I was at a local restaurant with a teammate of mine. When we get seated, he notices a waitress on the other side of the restaurant and asks our waiter to re-seat us to the woman’s section. I had already gotten my Lemonade and now this guy wants to move. We get over there and she is a pretty attractive girl, so I’m interested to see what my teammate is gonna do. She comes over to take our orders. I say something along the way that makes her smile before she leaves. He says to me that this is his girl, he’ll handle it. Then, just to mess with my teammate, I tell him that I’m gonna make a move and give her my business card. Haha, he knows that he can’t match the card, so he asks another waiter for a pen and some paper. He takes the paper and starts writing a note. I tell him that the whole note thing is a little bit junior high. He should man up and ask her for her number. He says to me, dead serious “I would, but I don’t know if that guy got her number earlier. Besides you can’t come at white girls like that, you need to say this cheesy $h!^ to get them to smile. Besides, she might be intimidated by all of us being here at once.” I lean over and read as he writes:
“Hey Beth I find you attractive but Im a little shy. i was wondering if I could take you out to dinner? Or maybe you could come to my game tonite. I play with the Wizards.
circle yes no”
I start laughing uncontrollably when I read this. Im still laughing when she comes back. He hands her the note when she gives us our food. She leaves and comes back with a note of her own:
“Thanks for the compliment, but I am not looking for anything more right now. I’ll see you at the game tonight though. Go Wizards.”
I’m now laughing so hard I can’t even breathe. All his little tactics and calculations, even the “circle yes or no” at the end of his note because thats what white girls like. Classic. Shut down. Gotta love it. Anyways, that’s all for now, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled for more.
A few days ago I saw one of the funnier attempts I’ve seen in a while took place right in front of me. I was at a local restaurant with a teammate of mine. When we get seated, he notices a waitress on the other side of the restaurant and asks our waiter to re-seat us to the woman’s section. I had already gotten my Lemonade and now this guy wants to move. We get over there and she is a pretty attractive girl, so I’m interested to see what my teammate is gonna do. She comes over to take our orders. I say something along the way that makes her smile before she leaves. He says to me that this is his girl, he’ll handle it. Then, just to mess with my teammate, I tell him that I’m gonna make a move and give her my business card. Haha, he knows that he can’t match the card, so he asks another waiter for a pen and some paper. He takes the paper and starts writing a note. I tell him that the whole note thing is a little bit junior high. He should man up and ask her for her number. He says to me, dead serious “I would, but I don’t know if that guy got her number earlier. Besides you can’t come at white girls like that, you need to say this cheesy $h!^ to get them to smile. Besides, she might be intimidated by all of us being here at once.” I lean over and read as he writes:
“Hey Beth I find you attractive but Im a little shy. i was wondering if I could take you out to dinner? Or maybe you could come to my game tonite. I play with the Wizards.
circle yes no”
I start laughing uncontrollably when I read this. Im still laughing when she comes back. He hands her the note when she gives us our food. She leaves and comes back with a note of her own:
“Thanks for the compliment, but I am not looking for anything more right now. I’ll see you at the game tonight though. Go Wizards.”
I’m now laughing so hard I can’t even breathe. All his little tactics and calculations, even the “circle yes or no” at the end of his note because thats what white girls like. Classic. Shut down. Gotta love it. Anyways, that’s all for now, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled for more.
Fast Times in North and South Dakota
March/10/2007 10:43 AM
It’s been a pretty uneventful couple of weeks since I last had anything worth saying, but I guess there have been enough developments to finally let everyone know how I’m livin.
Last time I wrote about Bismarck, I complained that it was way too cold, and snowy, and that the only girls I could find were fat and smoky. Well, things havent changed too much, but I’ll tell you what, it was 20 below back then and it’s 30 above now which feels like 80. I haven’t worn my gloves in weeks, and my jacket is currently more of an accessory than something to keep me warm. I know what you’re thinkin: “Hey, it’s only 30, you do need a jacket at all times.” I beg to differ, sweaters do the trick just fine right now, so I can’t complain about the cold too much. However it’s still cold enough for ice to be everywhere on the ground, meaning that if you take one false step, your ass is liable to end up back flipping onto your neck. I take little baby steps all the time to avoid the career ending injury that I’m sure is waiting for me.
I must say I’ve adjusted to the night life. That first night I went to Buck’s was somewhat of an anomaly, although not totally. I haven’t seen any fat girls wildly dancing on the floor or screaming “Let hip-hop Live!” I certainly haven’t had any fight over me. I’ve learned two things since I last wrote about Buck’s.
First, there are quite a few non-smoky fat girls, they just tend to avoid Buck’s for the most part, but you can still find some there. My coach, along with some of my blog readers, suggested a couple other places for me to go. He especially knows that I like a more professional scene and led me accordingly. As for Bucks, I guess that the girls who had hit on me before were acting on prior experience. Yea, I mean like they have definitely messed around with some Wizards in the past. I guess score for them and boo for whatever former or current wizard who went for the WWE tag team. I mean I bet those girls feel like it’s playing a lottery that they’ve actually won a few times. Proposition a Wizard, have a great night, and go to Denny’s in the morning for a Lumberjack Slam. It’s actually like the same four girls who are all ready like spaghetti and I see them there every time. Im actually kind of friends with them now. By this point they know that I like to go there and dance and have a good time without their company later on, so it’s all good.
Secondly, I think every single state except for California allows smoking in bars, so it’s pretty much just a situation you have to deal with if you leave. It aint just a North Dakota thing.
All that being said, I have had some good times, bad times, and downright weird times out here the past few weeks. For starters, one night when Matteen Cleaves was in town, we went to a place called “Stadium” sports bar. Now I must say I had a terrible time, mostly because I was so tired from the game, and partly because there were only about 15 people there. There were some good looking people, but I was way too tired to talk to any of them, I was ready to leave 10 minutes after we got there. One person who was definitely not afraid to say a coddamn word was a woman I had never met before. She was actually a very nice woman, but still provided some some strange events that night. She’s 6’3”, 275-300 lbs. I kid you not this is her size. As soon as I walk in, Corey Williams says to me “Hey Rod, ask her to give you the hug.” She then says “Oh you want the hug?” I look at her from head to toe then I look at Corey the same way you would look at Steve Irwin if he asked you if you wanted to hunt crocodiles. I say to Corey: “THE hug doesn’t sound good. If it was A hug that’s one thing, but THE hug sounds like it’s a little too much.” Right then she just grabs me and picks me up about 5 feet in the air in the middle of the bar. My body is so long that I swear my limbs must have knocked over a couple drinks and smacked someone in the face. I don’t get embarrassed easily, but right then I was about as flush as a black guy could be. She finally set me down and I went about my business as if nothing happened. I guess nobody else in the place seemed to care, maybe this was her gimmick and she was the main attraction at the bar. Anyways, she did the exact same thing to Matteen. This guy, no joke, screams out like a 13-year-old girl at a scary movie. He bobbled his drink and everything he was so scared. It was funny because she got him from behind. It wasn’t long before she had picked up everyone. Yes, everyone, including 285 lb. center Kevin Lyde who was helpless to fight back. The only surprise was Darius Rice. This kid is lighter than me, yet, when she tried to pick him up, he locked his legs in some weird sumo stance, and picked HER up. They were almost wrestling it looked so awkward. What you see in that picture is her basically refusing to let Corey do anything but talk to her. Every time Corey tried to get up, she sat his ass right back down. When I left she still had him locked up on the stools.
So after that night I decided to cross Stadium Sports Bar off my list of potential new spots. What came next was a road trip to Sioux Falls. The day before we left “The Biz” as I’m calling it now, one of my closer friends on the team, Curtis Stinson, was released. I guess that’s how it goes. A few of us went to Buck’s to show him one last good time. We stayed at Buck’s until closing time (not without dancing for 2 hours straight first) then headed back to the apartments to play monopoly until 3 am. Bright idea I know. Well, we had to get up at 6am for a flight to Sioux Falls, but my retarded self forgot to pack the night before. So I had to pack in the morning running on empty – an event I don’t even really remember. The whole pack job is a complete blur in my mind. When we got to the airport I noticed that everyone else had big bags with them. I had two backpacks -- hmm first sign that I didn’t do it right. I say to Kevin Lyde: “Hey, Kevin, how many days is this trip?” “Four,” he replies. Oh snap there couldn’t be FOUR DAYS WORTH of essentials in my backpack, no way. I open up my bag and look inside. Ok, there’s one collard shirt, one pair of jeans, a pair of sweats and a jacket. NO WAY I didn’t pack ANYTHING else. No Underwear. No Socks. No toothpaste. No deodorant. No Phone charger. Obviously it was the best packing job of all time. If it weren’t for the fact that our flight was cancelled due to a big time blizzard, I would have ended up in Tulsa smelling like burnt hair and Tabasco. Lucky for me our trip was cut short and I was able to return to The Biz for a fresh set of clothes.
Since we didn’t go to Tulsa like we were supposed to, we ended up going to Buck’s again, but not the Buck’s I know. Turns out there is also a Bucks in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Who knows how many of these places exist out there? I certainly did not know this place was a coddamn chain, that’s for sure. Anyways, when we got there, for some reason, I was really feelin it. I must be turning real North Dakota these days, but I was having a good time and at the same time thinking “Mann our Buck’s is way better.” That’s right, OUR Buck’s. Us North Dakotan’s haha. So I’m in this place and they don’t play one rap song the whole time, the closest they get is “Fergilicious”. For some reason I am not bothered. I’m kind of feelin the country. There are the old favorites “What hurts the most”, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy”, and “We’re Comin to Your City”. It’s safe to say that I know the words to these songs right now and if I’m really feelin myself, you might catch me singing them like everyone else there. But this night there were new songs. I’m talkin to my teammates and I hear “Billy’s got his beer goggles on!” I kind of perk up. No way is there a beer goggle song, no way. But oh yes, it is true and I love it. I start listening to the words:
Awww Yah!
Billy’s at the bar, he’s been there all night
First ten beers he’s had, since her goodbye
HEY! HEY!
She left him broke, in his new truck
He don’t smoke, but he lights one up
Temporary fix, for his heartache
He’s hurting bad, but he’s feeling great
He’s on the dance floor yelling Freebird
Singing off pitch but he knows every word
Grabs him a girl and he holds on tight
He’s chasing everything in sight
He’ll fall apart when he gets home
But right now his worries are gone
Life looks good, good, good
Billy’s got his beer goggles on
Hey!
Could there be a better song ever in the history of songs? No, I can’t C-Walk to this nonsense, but I tell ya what, I don’t know a guy who can’t relate. Hooray for you, Country Music, hooray. So now I’m alertly listening to every word of every song and they are all appealing to me for some reason. “I play chicken with the train” catches my ear.
hugg a lugga [3x],
Who? The big black neck commin' through to you boy you done fell and bumped you head uh huh,
That's what they said,
People say it's impossible, not probable, too radical,
But I already been on the CMA's,
Hell Tim McGraw said he liked the change,
That he likes the way my Hick-hop sounds and the way the crowd screams when I stomp the ground,
Now, big and black, clickty clack and I make the train jump the track like that
I dont know what any of that means. I don’t know what CMA’s are nor do I know one Tim McGraw song, but I’ll tell you what, it made me wanna play chicken with some trains. It’s pretty safe to say I had a great time that night. I guess I must’ve bought into the lifestyle somewhere along the way.
Back at Buck’s in North Dakota a week later, I was having a good time once again. This time they were playing all the hip hop hits so Renaldo, Corey, Chris, and I had a dance off. Renaldo started it off with a head bobblin, leg wigglin thing that was very “first round”. He was obviously saving his better material for latter rounds. Corey comes out and does the same. Chris hits us with a little tootsie roll action. Hands on knees swaying back and forth, a very solid first round effort. I want all the marbles right away, I wanna end this thing in round one. I do my patented “Baseball” dance. I bring the bat back and get into my stance at the plate (all to the beat of the song mind you). I look the invisible pitcher straight in the eye, as if to say “bring it.” The invisible pitch comes and I swing my bat to the rhythm of the song, and connect with the ball. I put my hand over my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun and watch the ball go over the fence. I trot the bases (still in rhythm) in place and jump up to stomp home plate. I feel like this is game over for this dance contest. Right then Renaldo starts round two with his “football” dance. He gets low beneath the center and takes the snap. He does a 3 step drop and surveys the defense. He pump fakes left, then shifts his feet and throws right. Right then I see Corey running a coddamn post route through the other dancers. He catches the pass and spikes the ball. Renaldo does he own touchdown dance. Chris’ turn. Chris gauges his reel, then casts his bait far into the lake. It looks like he’s caught something. His “fishing” dance looks solid. He reels in his catch, right on beat, and displays his prize catch. Although I only did one dance, I felt as though this competition was over because I couldn’t think of another good sport to dance to. Renaldo claims that he is the champion, but I disagree because he took the sports theme from me and if Corey hadn’t gone long, it would have just been average. It was a solo competition, not a tandem dance off. Just another night out in Bismarck. I think I’ll go to “Bistro” tonight, which is one of my coaches recommended spots. Who knows? Maybe I’ll engage in a great conversation about how, now that the snow has melted, I realize that there was grass underneath all along. It could happen.
Last time I wrote about Bismarck, I complained that it was way too cold, and snowy, and that the only girls I could find were fat and smoky. Well, things havent changed too much, but I’ll tell you what, it was 20 below back then and it’s 30 above now which feels like 80. I haven’t worn my gloves in weeks, and my jacket is currently more of an accessory than something to keep me warm. I know what you’re thinkin: “Hey, it’s only 30, you do need a jacket at all times.” I beg to differ, sweaters do the trick just fine right now, so I can’t complain about the cold too much. However it’s still cold enough for ice to be everywhere on the ground, meaning that if you take one false step, your ass is liable to end up back flipping onto your neck. I take little baby steps all the time to avoid the career ending injury that I’m sure is waiting for me.
I must say I’ve adjusted to the night life. That first night I went to Buck’s was somewhat of an anomaly, although not totally. I haven’t seen any fat girls wildly dancing on the floor or screaming “Let hip-hop Live!” I certainly haven’t had any fight over me. I’ve learned two things since I last wrote about Buck’s.
First, there are quite a few non-smoky fat girls, they just tend to avoid Buck’s for the most part, but you can still find some there. My coach, along with some of my blog readers, suggested a couple other places for me to go. He especially knows that I like a more professional scene and led me accordingly. As for Bucks, I guess that the girls who had hit on me before were acting on prior experience. Yea, I mean like they have definitely messed around with some Wizards in the past. I guess score for them and boo for whatever former or current wizard who went for the WWE tag team. I mean I bet those girls feel like it’s playing a lottery that they’ve actually won a few times. Proposition a Wizard, have a great night, and go to Denny’s in the morning for a Lumberjack Slam. It’s actually like the same four girls who are all ready like spaghetti and I see them there every time. Im actually kind of friends with them now. By this point they know that I like to go there and dance and have a good time without their company later on, so it’s all good.
Secondly, I think every single state except for California allows smoking in bars, so it’s pretty much just a situation you have to deal with if you leave. It aint just a North Dakota thing.
All that being said, I have had some good times, bad times, and downright weird times out here the past few weeks. For starters, one night when Matteen Cleaves was in town, we went to a place called “Stadium” sports bar. Now I must say I had a terrible time, mostly because I was so tired from the game, and partly because there were only about 15 people there. There were some good looking people, but I was way too tired to talk to any of them, I was ready to leave 10 minutes after we got there. One person who was definitely not afraid to say a coddamn word was a woman I had never met before. She was actually a very nice woman, but still provided some some strange events that night. She’s 6’3”, 275-300 lbs. I kid you not this is her size. As soon as I walk in, Corey Williams says to me “Hey Rod, ask her to give you the hug.” She then says “Oh you want the hug?” I look at her from head to toe then I look at Corey the same way you would look at Steve Irwin if he asked you if you wanted to hunt crocodiles. I say to Corey: “THE hug doesn’t sound good. If it was A hug that’s one thing, but THE hug sounds like it’s a little too much.” Right then she just grabs me and picks me up about 5 feet in the air in the middle of the bar. My body is so long that I swear my limbs must have knocked over a couple drinks and smacked someone in the face. I don’t get embarrassed easily, but right then I was about as flush as a black guy could be. She finally set me down and I went about my business as if nothing happened. I guess nobody else in the place seemed to care, maybe this was her gimmick and she was the main attraction at the bar. Anyways, she did the exact same thing to Matteen. This guy, no joke, screams out like a 13-year-old girl at a scary movie. He bobbled his drink and everything he was so scared. It was funny because she got him from behind. It wasn’t long before she had picked up everyone. Yes, everyone, including 285 lb. center Kevin Lyde who was helpless to fight back. The only surprise was Darius Rice. This kid is lighter than me, yet, when she tried to pick him up, he locked his legs in some weird sumo stance, and picked HER up. They were almost wrestling it looked so awkward. What you see in that picture is her basically refusing to let Corey do anything but talk to her. Every time Corey tried to get up, she sat his ass right back down. When I left she still had him locked up on the stools.
So after that night I decided to cross Stadium Sports Bar off my list of potential new spots. What came next was a road trip to Sioux Falls. The day before we left “The Biz” as I’m calling it now, one of my closer friends on the team, Curtis Stinson, was released. I guess that’s how it goes. A few of us went to Buck’s to show him one last good time. We stayed at Buck’s until closing time (not without dancing for 2 hours straight first) then headed back to the apartments to play monopoly until 3 am. Bright idea I know. Well, we had to get up at 6am for a flight to Sioux Falls, but my retarded self forgot to pack the night before. So I had to pack in the morning running on empty – an event I don’t even really remember. The whole pack job is a complete blur in my mind. When we got to the airport I noticed that everyone else had big bags with them. I had two backpacks -- hmm first sign that I didn’t do it right. I say to Kevin Lyde: “Hey, Kevin, how many days is this trip?” “Four,” he replies. Oh snap there couldn’t be FOUR DAYS WORTH of essentials in my backpack, no way. I open up my bag and look inside. Ok, there’s one collard shirt, one pair of jeans, a pair of sweats and a jacket. NO WAY I didn’t pack ANYTHING else. No Underwear. No Socks. No toothpaste. No deodorant. No Phone charger. Obviously it was the best packing job of all time. If it weren’t for the fact that our flight was cancelled due to a big time blizzard, I would have ended up in Tulsa smelling like burnt hair and Tabasco. Lucky for me our trip was cut short and I was able to return to The Biz for a fresh set of clothes.
Since we didn’t go to Tulsa like we were supposed to, we ended up going to Buck’s again, but not the Buck’s I know. Turns out there is also a Bucks in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Who knows how many of these places exist out there? I certainly did not know this place was a coddamn chain, that’s for sure. Anyways, when we got there, for some reason, I was really feelin it. I must be turning real North Dakota these days, but I was having a good time and at the same time thinking “Mann our Buck’s is way better.” That’s right, OUR Buck’s. Us North Dakotan’s haha. So I’m in this place and they don’t play one rap song the whole time, the closest they get is “Fergilicious”. For some reason I am not bothered. I’m kind of feelin the country. There are the old favorites “What hurts the most”, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy”, and “We’re Comin to Your City”. It’s safe to say that I know the words to these songs right now and if I’m really feelin myself, you might catch me singing them like everyone else there. But this night there were new songs. I’m talkin to my teammates and I hear “Billy’s got his beer goggles on!” I kind of perk up. No way is there a beer goggle song, no way. But oh yes, it is true and I love it. I start listening to the words:
Awww Yah!
Billy’s at the bar, he’s been there all night
First ten beers he’s had, since her goodbye
HEY! HEY!
She left him broke, in his new truck
He don’t smoke, but he lights one up
Temporary fix, for his heartache
He’s hurting bad, but he’s feeling great
He’s on the dance floor yelling Freebird
Singing off pitch but he knows every word
Grabs him a girl and he holds on tight
He’s chasing everything in sight
He’ll fall apart when he gets home
But right now his worries are gone
Life looks good, good, good
Billy’s got his beer goggles on
Hey!
Could there be a better song ever in the history of songs? No, I can’t C-Walk to this nonsense, but I tell ya what, I don’t know a guy who can’t relate. Hooray for you, Country Music, hooray. So now I’m alertly listening to every word of every song and they are all appealing to me for some reason. “I play chicken with the train” catches my ear.
hugg a lugga [3x],
Who? The big black neck commin' through to you boy you done fell and bumped you head uh huh,
That's what they said,
People say it's impossible, not probable, too radical,
But I already been on the CMA's,
Hell Tim McGraw said he liked the change,
That he likes the way my Hick-hop sounds and the way the crowd screams when I stomp the ground,
Now, big and black, clickty clack and I make the train jump the track like that
I dont know what any of that means. I don’t know what CMA’s are nor do I know one Tim McGraw song, but I’ll tell you what, it made me wanna play chicken with some trains. It’s pretty safe to say I had a great time that night. I guess I must’ve bought into the lifestyle somewhere along the way.
Back at Buck’s in North Dakota a week later, I was having a good time once again. This time they were playing all the hip hop hits so Renaldo, Corey, Chris, and I had a dance off. Renaldo started it off with a head bobblin, leg wigglin thing that was very “first round”. He was obviously saving his better material for latter rounds. Corey comes out and does the same. Chris hits us with a little tootsie roll action. Hands on knees swaying back and forth, a very solid first round effort. I want all the marbles right away, I wanna end this thing in round one. I do my patented “Baseball” dance. I bring the bat back and get into my stance at the plate (all to the beat of the song mind you). I look the invisible pitcher straight in the eye, as if to say “bring it.” The invisible pitch comes and I swing my bat to the rhythm of the song, and connect with the ball. I put my hand over my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun and watch the ball go over the fence. I trot the bases (still in rhythm) in place and jump up to stomp home plate. I feel like this is game over for this dance contest. Right then Renaldo starts round two with his “football” dance. He gets low beneath the center and takes the snap. He does a 3 step drop and surveys the defense. He pump fakes left, then shifts his feet and throws right. Right then I see Corey running a coddamn post route through the other dancers. He catches the pass and spikes the ball. Renaldo does he own touchdown dance. Chris’ turn. Chris gauges his reel, then casts his bait far into the lake. It looks like he’s caught something. His “fishing” dance looks solid. He reels in his catch, right on beat, and displays his prize catch. Although I only did one dance, I felt as though this competition was over because I couldn’t think of another good sport to dance to. Renaldo claims that he is the champion, but I disagree because he took the sports theme from me and if Corey hadn’t gone long, it would have just been average. It was a solo competition, not a tandem dance off. Just another night out in Bismarck. I think I’ll go to “Bistro” tonight, which is one of my coaches recommended spots. Who knows? Maybe I’ll engage in a great conversation about how, now that the snow has melted, I realize that there was grass underneath all along. It could happen.
Last time I wrote about Bismarck, I complained that it was way too cold, and snowy, and that the only girls I could find were fat and smoky. Well, things havent changed too much, but I’ll tell you what, it was 20 below back then and it’s 30 above now which feels like 80. I haven’t worn my gloves in weeks, and my jacket is currently more of an accessory than something to keep me warm. I know what you’re thinkin: “Hey, it’s only 30, you do need a jacket at all times.” I beg to differ, sweaters do the trick just fine right now, so I can’t complain about the cold too much. However it’s still cold enough for ice to be everywhere on the ground, meaning that if you take one false step, your ass is liable to end up back flipping onto your neck. I take little baby steps all the time to avoid the career ending injury that I’m sure is waiting for me.
I must say I’ve adjusted to the night life. That first night I went to Buck’s was somewhat of an anomaly, although not totally. I haven’t seen any fat girls wildly dancing on the floor or screaming “Let hip-hop Live!” I certainly haven’t had any fight over me. I’ve learned two things since I last wrote about Buck’s.
First, there are quite a few non-smoky fat girls, they just tend to avoid Buck’s for the most part, but you can still find some there. My coach, along with some of my blog readers, suggested a couple other places for me to go. He especially knows that I like a more professional scene and led me accordingly. As for Bucks, I guess that the girls who had hit on me before were acting on prior experience. Yea, I mean like they have definitely messed around with some Wizards in the past. I guess score for them and boo for whatever former or current wizard who went for the WWE tag team. I mean I bet those girls feel like it’s playing a lottery that they’ve actually won a few times. Proposition a Wizard, have a great night, and go to Denny’s in the morning for a Lumberjack Slam. It’s actually like the same four girls who are all ready like spaghetti and I see them there every time. Im actually kind of friends with them now. By this point they know that I like to go there and dance and have a good time without their company later on, so it’s all good.
Secondly, I think every single state except for California allows smoking in bars, so it’s pretty much just a situation you have to deal with if you leave. It aint just a North Dakota thing.
All that being said, I have had some good times, bad times, and downright weird times out here the past few weeks. For starters, one night when Matteen Cleaves was in town, we went to a place called “Stadium” sports bar. Now I must say I had a terrible time, mostly because I was so tired from the game, and partly because there were only about 15 people there. There were some good looking people, but I was way too tired to talk to any of them, I was ready to leave 10 minutes after we got there. One person who was definitely not afraid to say a coddamn word was a woman I had never met before. She was actually a very nice woman, but still provided some some strange events that night. She’s 6’3”, 275-300 lbs. I kid you not this is her size. As soon as I walk in, Corey Williams says to me “Hey Rod, ask her to give you the hug.” She then says “Oh you want the hug?” I look at her from head to toe then I look at Corey the same way you would look at Steve Irwin if he asked you if you wanted to hunt crocodiles. I say to Corey: “THE hug doesn’t sound good. If it was A hug that’s one thing, but THE hug sounds like it’s a little too much.” Right then she just grabs me and picks me up about 5 feet in the air in the middle of the bar. My body is so long that I swear my limbs must have knocked over a couple drinks and smacked someone in the face. I don’t get embarrassed easily, but right then I was about as flush as a black guy could be. She finally set me down and I went about my business as if nothing happened. I guess nobody else in the place seemed to care, maybe this was her gimmick and she was the main attraction at the bar. Anyways, she did the exact same thing to Matteen. This guy, no joke, screams out like a 13-year-old girl at a scary movie. He bobbled his drink and everything he was so scared. It was funny because she got him from behind. It wasn’t long before she had picked up everyone. Yes, everyone, including 285 lb. center Kevin Lyde who was helpless to fight back. The only surprise was Darius Rice. This kid is lighter than me, yet, when she tried to pick him up, he locked his legs in some weird sumo stance, and picked HER up. They were almost wrestling it looked so awkward. What you see in that picture is her basically refusing to let Corey do anything but talk to her. Every time Corey tried to get up, she sat his ass right back down. When I left she still had him locked up on the stools.
So after that night I decided to cross Stadium Sports Bar off my list of potential new spots. What came next was a road trip to Sioux Falls. The day before we left “The Biz” as I’m calling it now, one of my closer friends on the team, Curtis Stinson, was released. I guess that’s how it goes. A few of us went to Buck’s to show him one last good time. We stayed at Buck’s until closing time (not without dancing for 2 hours straight first) then headed back to the apartments to play monopoly until 3 am. Bright idea I know. Well, we had to get up at 6am for a flight to Sioux Falls, but my retarded self forgot to pack the night before. So I had to pack in the morning running on empty – an event I don’t even really remember. The whole pack job is a complete blur in my mind. When we got to the airport I noticed that everyone else had big bags with them. I had two backpacks -- hmm first sign that I didn’t do it right. I say to Kevin Lyde: “Hey, Kevin, how many days is this trip?” “Four,” he replies. Oh snap there couldn’t be FOUR DAYS WORTH of essentials in my backpack, no way. I open up my bag and look inside. Ok, there’s one collard shirt, one pair of jeans, a pair of sweats and a jacket. NO WAY I didn’t pack ANYTHING else. No Underwear. No Socks. No toothpaste. No deodorant. No Phone charger. Obviously it was the best packing job of all time. If it weren’t for the fact that our flight was cancelled due to a big time blizzard, I would have ended up in Tulsa smelling like burnt hair and Tabasco. Lucky for me our trip was cut short and I was able to return to The Biz for a fresh set of clothes.
Since we didn’t go to Tulsa like we were supposed to, we ended up going to Buck’s again, but not the Buck’s I know. Turns out there is also a Bucks in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Who knows how many of these places exist out there? I certainly did not know this place was a coddamn chain, that’s for sure. Anyways, when we got there, for some reason, I was really feelin it. I must be turning real North Dakota these days, but I was having a good time and at the same time thinking “Mann our Buck’s is way better.” That’s right, OUR Buck’s. Us North Dakotan’s haha. So I’m in this place and they don’t play one rap song the whole time, the closest they get is “Fergilicious”. For some reason I am not bothered. I’m kind of feelin the country. There are the old favorites “What hurts the most”, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy”, and “We’re Comin to Your City”. It’s safe to say that I know the words to these songs right now and if I’m really feelin myself, you might catch me singing them like everyone else there. But this night there were new songs. I’m talkin to my teammates and I hear “Billy’s got his beer goggles on!” I kind of perk up. No way is there a beer goggle song, no way. But oh yes, it is true and I love it. I start listening to the words:
Awww Yah!
Billy’s at the bar, he’s been there all night
First ten beers he’s had, since her goodbye
HEY! HEY!
She left him broke, in his new truck
He don’t smoke, but he lights one up
Temporary fix, for his heartache
He’s hurting bad, but he’s feeling great
He’s on the dance floor yelling Freebird
Singing off pitch but he knows every word
Grabs him a girl and he holds on tight
He’s chasing everything in sight
He’ll fall apart when he gets home
But right now his worries are gone
Life looks good, good, good
Billy’s got his beer goggles on
Hey!
Could there be a better song ever in the history of songs? No, I can’t C-Walk to this nonsense, but I tell ya what, I don’t know a guy who can’t relate. Hooray for you, Country Music, hooray. So now I’m alertly listening to every word of every song and they are all appealing to me for some reason. “I play chicken with the train” catches my ear.
hugg a lugga [3x],
Who? The big black neck commin' through to you boy you done fell and bumped you head uh huh,
That's what they said,
People say it's impossible, not probable, too radical,
But I already been on the CMA's,
Hell Tim McGraw said he liked the change,
That he likes the way my Hick-hop sounds and the way the crowd screams when I stomp the ground,
Now, big and black, clickty clack and I make the train jump the track like that
I dont know what any of that means. I don’t know what CMA’s are nor do I know one Tim McGraw song, but I’ll tell you what, it made me wanna play chicken with some trains. It’s pretty safe to say I had a great time that night. I guess I must’ve bought into the lifestyle somewhere along the way.
Back at Buck’s in North Dakota a week later, I was having a good time once again. This time they were playing all the hip hop hits so Renaldo, Corey, Chris, and I had a dance off. Renaldo started it off with a head bobblin, leg wigglin thing that was very “first round”. He was obviously saving his better material for latter rounds. Corey comes out and does the same. Chris hits us with a little tootsie roll action. Hands on knees swaying back and forth, a very solid first round effort. I want all the marbles right away, I wanna end this thing in round one. I do my patented “Baseball” dance. I bring the bat back and get into my stance at the plate (all to the beat of the song mind you). I look the invisible pitcher straight in the eye, as if to say “bring it.” The invisible pitch comes and I swing my bat to the rhythm of the song, and connect with the ball. I put my hand over my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun and watch the ball go over the fence. I trot the bases (still in rhythm) in place and jump up to stomp home plate. I feel like this is game over for this dance contest. Right then Renaldo starts round two with his “football” dance. He gets low beneath the center and takes the snap. He does a 3 step drop and surveys the defense. He pump fakes left, then shifts his feet and throws right. Right then I see Corey running a coddamn post route through the other dancers. He catches the pass and spikes the ball. Renaldo does he own touchdown dance. Chris’ turn. Chris gauges his reel, then casts his bait far into the lake. It looks like he’s caught something. His “fishing” dance looks solid. He reels in his catch, right on beat, and displays his prize catch. Although I only did one dance, I felt as though this competition was over because I couldn’t think of another good sport to dance to. Renaldo claims that he is the champion, but I disagree because he took the sports theme from me and if Corey hadn’t gone long, it would have just been average. It was a solo competition, not a tandem dance off. Just another night out in Bismarck. I think I’ll go to “Bistro” tonight, which is one of my coaches recommended spots. Who knows? Maybe I’ll engage in a great conversation about how, now that the snow has melted, I realize that there was grass underneath all along. It could happen.
Last time I wrote about Bismarck, I complained that it was way too cold, and snowy, and that the only girls I could find were fat and smoky. Well, things havent changed too much, but I’ll tell you what, it was 20 below back then and it’s 30 above now which feels like 80. I haven’t worn my gloves in weeks, and my jacket is currently more of an accessory than something to keep me warm. I know what you’re thinkin: “Hey, it’s only 30, you do need a jacket at all times.” I beg to differ, sweaters do the trick just fine right now, so I can’t complain about the cold too much. However it’s still cold enough for ice to be everywhere on the ground, meaning that if you take one false step, your ass is liable to end up back flipping onto your neck. I take little baby steps all the time to avoid the career ending injury that I’m sure is waiting for me.
I must say I’ve adjusted to the night life. That first night I went to Buck’s was somewhat of an anomaly, although not totally. I haven’t seen any fat girls wildly dancing on the floor or screaming “Let hip-hop Live!” I certainly haven’t had any fight over me. I’ve learned two things since I last wrote about Buck’s.
First, there are quite a few non-smoky fat girls, they just tend to avoid Buck’s for the most part, but you can still find some there. My coach, along with some of my blog readers, suggested a couple other places for me to go. He especially knows that I like a more professional scene and led me accordingly. As for Bucks, I guess that the girls who had hit on me before were acting on prior experience. Yea, I mean like they have definitely messed around with some Wizards in the past. I guess score for them and boo for whatever former or current wizard who went for the WWE tag team. I mean I bet those girls feel like it’s playing a lottery that they’ve actually won a few times. Proposition a Wizard, have a great night, and go to Denny’s in the morning for a Lumberjack Slam. It’s actually like the same four girls who are all ready like spaghetti and I see them there every time. Im actually kind of friends with them now. By this point they know that I like to go there and dance and have a good time without their company later on, so it’s all good.
Secondly, I think every single state except for California allows smoking in bars, so it’s pretty much just a situation you have to deal with if you leave. It aint just a North Dakota thing.
All that being said, I have had some good times, bad times, and downright weird times out here the past few weeks. For starters, one night when Matteen Cleaves was in town, we went to a place called “Stadium” sports bar. Now I must say I had a terrible time, mostly because I was so tired from the game, and partly because there were only about 15 people there. There were some good looking people, but I was way too tired to talk to any of them, I was ready to leave 10 minutes after we got there. One person who was definitely not afraid to say a coddamn word was a woman I had never met before. She was actually a very nice woman, but still provided some some strange events that night. She’s 6’3”, 275-300 lbs. I kid you not this is her size. As soon as I walk in, Corey Williams says to me “Hey Rod, ask her to give you the hug.” She then says “Oh you want the hug?” I look at her from head to toe then I look at Corey the same way you would look at Steve Irwin if he asked you if you wanted to hunt crocodiles. I say to Corey: “THE hug doesn’t sound good. If it was A hug that’s one thing, but THE hug sounds like it’s a little too much.” Right then she just grabs me and picks me up about 5 feet in the air in the middle of the bar. My body is so long that I swear my limbs must have knocked over a couple drinks and smacked someone in the face. I don’t get embarrassed easily, but right then I was about as flush as a black guy could be. She finally set me down and I went about my business as if nothing happened. I guess nobody else in the place seemed to care, maybe this was her gimmick and she was the main attraction at the bar. Anyways, she did the exact same thing to Matteen. This guy, no joke, screams out like a 13-year-old girl at a scary movie. He bobbled his drink and everything he was so scared. It was funny because she got him from behind. It wasn’t long before she had picked up everyone. Yes, everyone, including 285 lb. center Kevin Lyde who was helpless to fight back. The only surprise was Darius Rice. This kid is lighter than me, yet, when she tried to pick him up, he locked his legs in some weird sumo stance, and picked HER up. They were almost wrestling it looked so awkward. What you see in that picture is her basically refusing to let Corey do anything but talk to her. Every time Corey tried to get up, she sat his ass right back down. When I left she still had him locked up on the stools.
So after that night I decided to cross Stadium Sports Bar off my list of potential new spots. What came next was a road trip to Sioux Falls. The day before we left “The Biz” as I’m calling it now, one of my closer friends on the team, Curtis Stinson, was released. I guess that’s how it goes. A few of us went to Buck’s to show him one last good time. We stayed at Buck’s until closing time (not without dancing for 2 hours straight first) then headed back to the apartments to play monopoly until 3 am. Bright idea I know. Well, we had to get up at 6am for a flight to Sioux Falls, but my retarded self forgot to pack the night before. So I had to pack in the morning running on empty – an event I don’t even really remember. The whole pack job is a complete blur in my mind. When we got to the airport I noticed that everyone else had big bags with them. I had two backpacks -- hmm first sign that I didn’t do it right. I say to Kevin Lyde: “Hey, Kevin, how many days is this trip?” “Four,” he replies. Oh snap there couldn’t be FOUR DAYS WORTH of essentials in my backpack, no way. I open up my bag and look inside. Ok, there’s one collard shirt, one pair of jeans, a pair of sweats and a jacket. NO WAY I didn’t pack ANYTHING else. No Underwear. No Socks. No toothpaste. No deodorant. No Phone charger. Obviously it was the best packing job of all time. If it weren’t for the fact that our flight was cancelled due to a big time blizzard, I would have ended up in Tulsa smelling like burnt hair and Tabasco. Lucky for me our trip was cut short and I was able to return to The Biz for a fresh set of clothes.
Since we didn’t go to Tulsa like we were supposed to, we ended up going to Buck’s again, but not the Buck’s I know. Turns out there is also a Bucks in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Who knows how many of these places exist out there? I certainly did not know this place was a coddamn chain, that’s for sure. Anyways, when we got there, for some reason, I was really feelin it. I must be turning real North Dakota these days, but I was having a good time and at the same time thinking “Mann our Buck’s is way better.” That’s right, OUR Buck’s. Us North Dakotan’s haha. So I’m in this place and they don’t play one rap song the whole time, the closest they get is “Fergilicious”. For some reason I am not bothered. I’m kind of feelin the country. There are the old favorites “What hurts the most”, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy”, and “We’re Comin to Your City”. It’s safe to say that I know the words to these songs right now and if I’m really feelin myself, you might catch me singing them like everyone else there. But this night there were new songs. I’m talkin to my teammates and I hear “Billy’s got his beer goggles on!” I kind of perk up. No way is there a beer goggle song, no way. But oh yes, it is true and I love it. I start listening to the words:
Awww Yah!
Billy’s at the bar, he’s been there all night
First ten beers he’s had, since her goodbye
HEY! HEY!
She left him broke, in his new truck
He don’t smoke, but he lights one up
Temporary fix, for his heartache
He’s hurting bad, but he’s feeling great
He’s on the dance floor yelling Freebird
Singing off pitch but he knows every word
Grabs him a girl and he holds on tight
He’s chasing everything in sight
He’ll fall apart when he gets home
But right now his worries are gone
Life looks good, good, good
Billy’s got his beer goggles on
Hey!
Could there be a better song ever in the history of songs? No, I can’t C-Walk to this nonsense, but I tell ya what, I don’t know a guy who can’t relate. Hooray for you, Country Music, hooray. So now I’m alertly listening to every word of every song and they are all appealing to me for some reason. “I play chicken with the train” catches my ear.
hugg a lugga [3x],
Who? The big black neck commin' through to you boy you done fell and bumped you head uh huh,
That's what they said,
People say it's impossible, not probable, too radical,
But I already been on the CMA's,
Hell Tim McGraw said he liked the change,
That he likes the way my Hick-hop sounds and the way the crowd screams when I stomp the ground,
Now, big and black, clickty clack and I make the train jump the track like that
I dont know what any of that means. I don’t know what CMA’s are nor do I know one Tim McGraw song, but I’ll tell you what, it made me wanna play chicken with some trains. It’s pretty safe to say I had a great time that night. I guess I must’ve bought into the lifestyle somewhere along the way.
Back at Buck’s in North Dakota a week later, I was having a good time once again. This time they were playing all the hip hop hits so Renaldo, Corey, Chris, and I had a dance off. Renaldo started it off with a head bobblin, leg wigglin thing that was very “first round”. He was obviously saving his better material for latter rounds. Corey comes out and does the same. Chris hits us with a little tootsie roll action. Hands on knees swaying back and forth, a very solid first round effort. I want all the marbles right away, I wanna end this thing in round one. I do my patented “Baseball” dance. I bring the bat back and get into my stance at the plate (all to the beat of the song mind you). I look the invisible pitcher straight in the eye, as if to say “bring it.” The invisible pitch comes and I swing my bat to the rhythm of the song, and connect with the ball. I put my hand over my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun and watch the ball go over the fence. I trot the bases (still in rhythm) in place and jump up to stomp home plate. I feel like this is game over for this dance contest. Right then Renaldo starts round two with his “football” dance. He gets low beneath the center and takes the snap. He does a 3 step drop and surveys the defense. He pump fakes left, then shifts his feet and throws right. Right then I see Corey running a coddamn post route through the other dancers. He catches the pass and spikes the ball. Renaldo does he own touchdown dance. Chris’ turn. Chris gauges his reel, then casts his bait far into the lake. It looks like he’s caught something. His “fishing” dance looks solid. He reels in his catch, right on beat, and displays his prize catch. Although I only did one dance, I felt as though this competition was over because I couldn’t think of another good sport to dance to. Renaldo claims that he is the champion, but I disagree because he took the sports theme from me and if Corey hadn’t gone long, it would have just been average. It was a solo competition, not a tandem dance off. Just another night out in Bismarck. I think I’ll go to “Bistro” tonight, which is one of my coaches recommended spots. Who knows? Maybe I’ll engage in a great conversation about how, now that the snow has melted, I realize that there was grass underneath all along. It could happen.
Bismarck, North Dakota
January/22/2007 10:28 AM
As you know, or dont know, I live in Bismarck. I just got off the phone with my boy Future who didnt know I was here yet. When I told him I was out here he said “Mann I dont even know what to say to that. It’s like you just told me you moved out to the moon or something.” I can understand his sentiments because I feel like I moved to the moon. It’s a crazy lifestyle to just up and go from Austin, to LA, to Bismarck in a matter of 7 days, but I did it. Anyways, Im gonna lay a few things out there so you get a good idea of what “the moon” is really like:
1. Its cold. When I got in everyone was like “youre gonna freeze man, you dont have a jacket?” And I would always answer “No, I dont have a jacket, but Ill only be outside for a few seconds anyways so it really doesnt matter. WRONG. No, I wasnt wrong about the few seconds part, but even in a few seconds, the coldness can just overtake you. I left LA and it was 82 degrees. When I got into Bismarck it was 14 below zero. Thats a 96 degree difference right there. Every breath I take out here my lungs feel like a rusty bike chain....STRUGGLIN! I had to walk to Carl’s JR. It started out as a walk, but I was soon jogging so that I wouldnt get stuck in place. When I was coming back my hand froze itself to the cup of my sprite. There were 6 consecutive days of 20 under or colder. Yesterday it was 1. If that didnt make any sense to you it’s probably because you arent used to seeing 1 written as a temperature. It was 1 degree yesterday. And to be honest it felt soo0o0o warm outside. I felt like I was baked into an apple pie...warm and toasty out on the counter top and it was really only 1 outside. I invested in a new coat and a pari of gloves. Those two things, right now, are worth more to me than a baby is to Britney Spears. Anyways, I just wanted to reiterate that it’s cold. Oh, and they make me pump the gas cuz Im a rookie and the gloves make me cry tears of joy now.
2. Everything is real, real dirty. This is because there is so much snow. If this doesnt make sense to you, it didnt to me either. I guess when it snows, most cities that get alot of snow will immediately put salt on the roads to make sure that the cars can drive without sliding all over the place. Here, in Bismarck, they dont put salt on the snow, they put ground up coal from a local mine on the snow. This means that dirt is everywhere. The cars all look disgusting because of all the dirt that gets on them. The white snow looks like giant piles of dirt on the side of the road. It makes things look real ugly.
3. There is nothing to do here. Seriously. Ive said that before but I dont think I ever truly meant it from my heart like I do now. Ive asked about 15 people “what is there to do here?” And theyve all answered “nothing.” I made an oath with myself that I would discover what there is to do here - daytime, night time, whatever. Here is what Ive discovered after nearly 2 weeks here.
In the daytime there is a mall. The mall is really, really bootleg though. I was over here trying to upgrade my wardrobe (dress code) so Im lookin for Macy’s or Nordstrom mann even a Dillards or somethin. Theyve got some place called “Herberger’s.” When the guy told me that the only place to buy nice clothes was called Herbergers I tried to crack a little joke I said “Oh is that better than HISberger’s?” He was not amused. What was also not amusing was the lack or selection in that bad boy...and nothin for tall people whatsoever. There is a movie theatre...it has all the current movies. Then, umm thats about it.
Night time? Hmm well let me describe the nightlife to you. There is one bar. Those of you who know about Kip’s I want you to picture that. Now, you’ve got Kips (or whatever little college bar you used to go to that had dancing too), now take away the fact that all of your friends are there, add about 50% country music (Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy, and What Hurts the Most get ALOT of airtime), add the fact that smoking is ALLOWED and not only that but also that EVERYBODY does it, and last but not least imagine it closed at 1230. Thats our bar. It’s called Buck’s and it is pretty much exactly how you are probably picturing it. Now that may be your scene, but if you know me you know that thats not my style lil bebe. Let me describe our Saturday night(Jan 20th) for you. Im in dress code (as usual) real grown man fitted know what I mean and I walk into bucks. They are charging $3 tonight because there is some lame band playing on one side of the building..its usually free. I walk right towards the bar (to celebrate my 17 point, 9 rebound performance) and just begin to order. There are drunken fat woman kind of lingering near me, but I really try to focus on my drinks and not throw out any signals. One of the girls walks past me, then stops, and works her way back. She taps me on the shoulder and shes blowing the hell out of her cigarette. I turn the other way. She says “Dont you want to talk to me?” and I say “Naww, I dont want smoke to get into my blazer.” She then throws this back at me “Well you are in a BAR, Idiot, get over it,” and she walks away. Im now officially annoyed, but the alcohol is making forget about all that. I eventually head out to the dance area, but Im not trying to dance like I usually do because Im real dressed up. This one fat girl from last week who had asked me to dance sees me in the distance. Last week I lied to her and told her I would dance later - later never came. This week im trying to avoid her and just chill. I swear it seems like I turn my head for a second and when I turn back shes got her ass on me trynna break me off. I just start laughing because its really funny how she teleported fom the other size of a crowed room to right up on me undetected. 250 lbs of untrace-ability covers 50 feet in 2 seconds flat. So she asks me “Whats so funny?” and I reply “Nothing.” So Im literally just standing there while she had me up against the stage doin too much. Im laughin, my teammates are laughin, its just funny. Then it takes an even funnier twist. That first girl who called me an idiot has now gotten over it I guess cuz she walks past me and grabs my ass. I pretend not to notice so she does it again. I turn to her and shake my head...all of this is whilw the fat girl is still breakin me off. SO another fat girl across the room walks over and whispers in my ear “Do you want me to save you?” Im like forreal? HaHaha how is that saving me? Thats like wresting a grizzly bear instead of a rhino! SO now the girl who is still breakin me off asks me “Did she say she was gonna save you? Oh hell no!” I answer “Naww, Im just chillin.” Then all of about 15 seconds later, the “save me” girl comes up and grabs my hand and takes me away from girl one. Now her and her fat friend have me in “the sandwich” but it might as well be called a philly cheesesteak with how much meat and cheese was all over me. Im now just laughing my ass off...not dancing at all just moving away from the girls slowly. I finally break away only to have to girl who called me an idiot catch up with me. She complains that the place is too packed and says “Will you help me start a circle so we can do our dance moves?” I quickly, sharply reply “No.” She then asks my teammates the same question. They of course dont know how crazy she is and agree. Im tellin you man, she gets in the middle of this circle and starts going crazy. She then drops on the floor is moving all over the place with no rythm. The best way I could describe it would be....it’s like if you slipped on some ice and fell to the ground and then had a 10 minute long heart attack, an orgasm, and try to hold in a fart at the same time.
Thats her right after she got up off the floor....she would then go back down again...I had to get a photo of her. The security guards came to take her away cuz I guess word spread about how crazy she was. As they were dragging her away she starts screaming at the top of lungs “Help me save hip hop?! Let hip hop live! Let hip hop live!” If you think Im making this up you have no idea how serious I am. She really said this. So Im still laughing when this guy dancing on the stage all of a sudden falls off and lands on his back right on the dance floor...hard. He then lays theres for like 45 seconds or so...Notice how people didnt notice him and proceeded to spill drinks on his drunk ass....
That was just about my cue to leave. That, and the fact that the bar closes at 12:30! SO the only spot to go to at night closes its doors at 12:30 and now you go home and everyone on the west coast is just getting ready to head out. Wow. That’s Bismarck Nightlife right there. In a nutshell...
1. Its cold. When I got in everyone was like “youre gonna freeze man, you dont have a jacket?” And I would always answer “No, I dont have a jacket, but Ill only be outside for a few seconds anyways so it really doesnt matter. WRONG. No, I wasnt wrong about the few seconds part, but even in a few seconds, the coldness can just overtake you. I left LA and it was 82 degrees. When I got into Bismarck it was 14 below zero. Thats a 96 degree difference right there. Every breath I take out here my lungs feel like a rusty bike chain....STRUGGLIN! I had to walk to Carl’s JR. It started out as a walk, but I was soon jogging so that I wouldnt get stuck in place. When I was coming back my hand froze itself to the cup of my sprite. There were 6 consecutive days of 20 under or colder. Yesterday it was 1. If that didnt make any sense to you it’s probably because you arent used to seeing 1 written as a temperature. It was 1 degree yesterday. And to be honest it felt soo0o0o warm outside. I felt like I was baked into an apple pie...warm and toasty out on the counter top and it was really only 1 outside. I invested in a new coat and a pari of gloves. Those two things, right now, are worth more to me than a baby is to Britney Spears. Anyways, I just wanted to reiterate that it’s cold. Oh, and they make me pump the gas cuz Im a rookie and the gloves make me cry tears of joy now.
2. Everything is real, real dirty. This is because there is so much snow. If this doesnt make sense to you, it didnt to me either. I guess when it snows, most cities that get alot of snow will immediately put salt on the roads to make sure that the cars can drive without sliding all over the place. Here, in Bismarck, they dont put salt on the snow, they put ground up coal from a local mine on the snow. This means that dirt is everywhere. The cars all look disgusting because of all the dirt that gets on them. The white snow looks like giant piles of dirt on the side of the road. It makes things look real ugly.
3. There is nothing to do here. Seriously. Ive said that before but I dont think I ever truly meant it from my heart like I do now. Ive asked about 15 people “what is there to do here?” And theyve all answered “nothing.” I made an oath with myself that I would discover what there is to do here - daytime, night time, whatever. Here is what Ive discovered after nearly 2 weeks here.
In the daytime there is a mall. The mall is really, really bootleg though. I was over here trying to upgrade my wardrobe (dress code) so Im lookin for Macy’s or Nordstrom mann even a Dillards or somethin. Theyve got some place called “Herberger’s.” When the guy told me that the only place to buy nice clothes was called Herbergers I tried to crack a little joke I said “Oh is that better than HISberger’s?” He was not amused. What was also not amusing was the lack or selection in that bad boy...and nothin for tall people whatsoever. There is a movie theatre...it has all the current movies. Then, umm thats about it.
Night time? Hmm well let me describe the nightlife to you. There is one bar. Those of you who know about Kip’s I want you to picture that. Now, you’ve got Kips (or whatever little college bar you used to go to that had dancing too), now take away the fact that all of your friends are there, add about 50% country music (Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy, and What Hurts the Most get ALOT of airtime), add the fact that smoking is ALLOWED and not only that but also that EVERYBODY does it, and last but not least imagine it closed at 1230. Thats our bar. It’s called Buck’s and it is pretty much exactly how you are probably picturing it. Now that may be your scene, but if you know me you know that thats not my style lil bebe. Let me describe our Saturday night(Jan 20th) for you. Im in dress code (as usual) real grown man fitted know what I mean and I walk into bucks. They are charging $3 tonight because there is some lame band playing on one side of the building..its usually free. I walk right towards the bar (to celebrate my 17 point, 9 rebound performance) and just begin to order. There are drunken fat woman kind of lingering near me, but I really try to focus on my drinks and not throw out any signals. One of the girls walks past me, then stops, and works her way back. She taps me on the shoulder and shes blowing the hell out of her cigarette. I turn the other way. She says “Dont you want to talk to me?” and I say “Naww, I dont want smoke to get into my blazer.” She then throws this back at me “Well you are in a BAR, Idiot, get over it,” and she walks away. Im now officially annoyed, but the alcohol is making forget about all that. I eventually head out to the dance area, but Im not trying to dance like I usually do because Im real dressed up. This one fat girl from last week who had asked me to dance sees me in the distance. Last week I lied to her and told her I would dance later - later never came. This week im trying to avoid her and just chill. I swear it seems like I turn my head for a second and when I turn back shes got her ass on me trynna break me off. I just start laughing because its really funny how she teleported fom the other size of a crowed room to right up on me undetected. 250 lbs of untrace-ability covers 50 feet in 2 seconds flat. So she asks me “Whats so funny?” and I reply “Nothing.” So Im literally just standing there while she had me up against the stage doin too much. Im laughin, my teammates are laughin, its just funny. Then it takes an even funnier twist. That first girl who called me an idiot has now gotten over it I guess cuz she walks past me and grabs my ass. I pretend not to notice so she does it again. I turn to her and shake my head...all of this is whilw the fat girl is still breakin me off. SO another fat girl across the room walks over and whispers in my ear “Do you want me to save you?” Im like forreal? HaHaha how is that saving me? Thats like wresting a grizzly bear instead of a rhino! SO now the girl who is still breakin me off asks me “Did she say she was gonna save you? Oh hell no!” I answer “Naww, Im just chillin.” Then all of about 15 seconds later, the “save me” girl comes up and grabs my hand and takes me away from girl one. Now her and her fat friend have me in “the sandwich” but it might as well be called a philly cheesesteak with how much meat and cheese was all over me. Im now just laughing my ass off...not dancing at all just moving away from the girls slowly. I finally break away only to have to girl who called me an idiot catch up with me. She complains that the place is too packed and says “Will you help me start a circle so we can do our dance moves?” I quickly, sharply reply “No.” She then asks my teammates the same question. They of course dont know how crazy she is and agree. Im tellin you man, she gets in the middle of this circle and starts going crazy. She then drops on the floor is moving all over the place with no rythm. The best way I could describe it would be....it’s like if you slipped on some ice and fell to the ground and then had a 10 minute long heart attack, an orgasm, and try to hold in a fart at the same time.
Thats her right after she got up off the floor....she would then go back down again...I had to get a photo of her. The security guards came to take her away cuz I guess word spread about how crazy she was. As they were dragging her away she starts screaming at the top of lungs “Help me save hip hop?! Let hip hop live! Let hip hop live!” If you think Im making this up you have no idea how serious I am. She really said this. So Im still laughing when this guy dancing on the stage all of a sudden falls off and lands on his back right on the dance floor...hard. He then lays theres for like 45 seconds or so...Notice how people didnt notice him and proceeded to spill drinks on his drunk ass....
That was just about my cue to leave. That, and the fact that the bar closes at 12:30! SO the only spot to go to at night closes its doors at 12:30 and now you go home and everyone on the west coast is just getting ready to head out. Wow. That’s Bismarck Nightlife right there. In a nutshell...