Monday, September 10, 2007

A Lesson on How to Suck at Showing Football


In the spirit of KSK and Deadspin...the new objective of 12SS appears to be dick jokes. Plus, Alba loves him some loljocks. Combine the two, and its amazing that he hasn't posted something related to Bill Simmons' leg shot from his "I'm a Red Sox Homer bitching about Red Sox Homers" photo album/column from Tampa Bay.

(BTW: The loljock for that pic should be..."Douche Cat iz spillin' Bloomin' Onion, mate.")

I, however, want to give you an education. And education on how to suck. Now, if you're the Bears running game...this post isn't for you. If your Chris Simms' spleen, you probably actually are part of the Bears' running game.

No, this post is for those of you that are dedicated to sucking more then Alex Smith (that, my friends, is called a double entente). Today's lesson: How to suck at being a bar with NFL Sunday Ticket.

It was week one of the NFL Season. I am officially jacked up. But, not so jacked up that I care about the early games. Early games are what are known as "hangover go away time". But, I was still pumped up to go to the bar, watch the Seahawks, and eat fattening, fattening foods and wash it down with cold, cold beer.

Now, there are two places in my town to do this...lets break this down Ron Jaworski style.

1) Buffalo Wild Wings. A glorious place, twenty-four kinds of beer on tap, 18 different flavors of wings sauce. Mini corn dogs I would kill a hooker for, and gigantic TVs. However, its on the other side of town and will be more crowded then the reception at Brady Quinn and Jeff Garcia's wedding.

2) Mugsy Maguire's. On my side of town and not crowded. Not crowded for these reasons: Food not as great, limited beer (but they have a decent selection) plus the TVs aren't as gigantic. What is gigantic? The waitresses' chestal region. So, it gets points.

Knowing that I am in the middle of Bears country and that their moronic fans are tripping over themselves to watch their team lose badly in week one, I go into this with a few expectations. 1) Some Chicago guy will make fun of my Seahawk stuff. 2) I'm not getting my game on a big screen TV anyway. 3) I will totally laugh at the Bears' fans at about...oh,6:00ish.

With that in mind, I decide to go to Mugsy's. It starts off well enough. i get a parking spot, get a table with my friends, and watch the final quarter of the late games. Cute waitress is serving me cold beer...and not bad beer. I'm drinking Amberbock. If there's anything that says football beer more then a dark lager...you're wrong. Just saying. We order wings, mozzarella sticks, and pizza.

Now, the late games are starting, so I hail down my waitress and I ask politely if I could, please, get the Seattle-Tampa game on one of these TVs near me. She says yes.

This is the first step in ensuring you provide a horrible Gameday experience: Don't deliver on promised games!

I watch, in horror, as remote control guy goes around and turns every TV to the Bears-Chargers game. Except for the TV behind me, which is showing highlights of the Cubs losing to the Pirates. If I wasn't angry, I'd laugh at that. Actually...one second...


HAHAHA!!1! THE PIRATES?!?!? HAHAHAHAHA!

Twenty minutes later, Tits McGee comes back to inform us that the cook "forgot about our pizza" and burnt it. Now, one would think chef has two primary duties. 1) Put food in oven. 2) Take it out. Little children with those EZ Bake play ovens understand this. The chef at Mugsy's? Apparently, he was that kid that kept running over his own feet with a Tonka truck. So, step 2 of providing a bad Gameday experience...mess up the food somehow.

At this point, I take time to ask the waitress if I could please get the Seahawks game, for I would like to enjoy it from my seat, not watch from across the pub. Again, yes.

10 minutes later...Cubs highlights...more Bears game...and wondering why we can't move the ball from first and goal at the one. I am what is known as...mildly irritated.

Before the pizza comes, I ask one more time: Seahawks game? I'm still maintaining courtesy, mostly because if the service is this bad already...what would they do if I angered them? Pour vodka on my and light me on fire? Key my car? Sing Bear Down Chicago Bears? I was going to be polite about this.

Finally, the pizza comes. HOORAY! At Mugsy's though, the pizza is greasy. So, I ask for forks. Oh, and the Seahawks game. That would be awesome. By the way, another ten minutes has passed since I last asked for the game. I think we've scored a touchdown by this point.

The waitress comes back a while later...but not with forks. No, this is the "How are things going?" check-up. Well, babe, let me tell you something. I've waited an hour for pizza I knew wasn't going to be great, I've asked four times for a football game that still isn't on TV, and now you've forgotten forks. Things are GREAT.

This is what I would have said if I, you know, felt like making a cute blonde girl cry. Sometimes its good to boost the 'ol ego that way. However, I didn't get a chance to do this because as soon as she asked how we were, she remembered that we had requested forks. It was dim, it was flickering, but the light bulb did come on above her head.

Finally, after finishing the pizza, not watching the Seahawks, and being terrified of how they might mistreat me next (I'm sorry...you DIDN'T order the knife to the throat?) I payed the bill and my Bears' fans friends went to my apartment to watch the Chargers win. I followed the Seahawks online.

So, there you have it kiddos. You want to throw a terrible Sunday Ticket party? Make your guests watch bad games, be late on food, and forget simple requests. Its an easy three step process that if followed will ensure the scorn and hatred of your friends. Hell, I had to refrain from flipping off the establishment on my way to work today.

Any other ideas on how to ensure sucknitude reigns at your next football party? Leave them in the comments!




9 comments:

  1. For fuck's sake and all that's holy, please tell my you didn't leave her a tip!

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  2. $30 bill...fifty cent tip.

    It wasn't all her fault, and I figured a really low amount would be clear that I was unhappy, not just an asshole who doesn't tip.

    By the way, if someone can tell me how to format this so there's at least some of the text on the front page...that'd be awesome. For I don't know how, and don't see what to do.

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  3. That was a super piece, Alan. Your writing is getting very good. One question: can you explain this selection a little futher?

    "limited beer (but they have a decent selection)"

    Do you mean:
    1. They only have a limited quantity of beer---though it's a good variety--and once it's gone, you're SOL.
    2. They have a decent selection of limited edition beers.
    3. They only have a few brands of beer but, from those brands, a variety of different brew styles.
    4. They only pour pounders, but have a lot of brands from which to choose.

    Thanks for the clarification.

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  4. CitK - I was listening to Mike & Mike this morning, and they were talking about that Everett kid from Buffalo and they said "our thoughts and prayers go out to him and his family"....and I thought of you and your pet peeve about this phrasiology!

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  5. Mike and Mike calling a football game is possibly the most boring thing ever. Just saying.

    Also, as opposed to B Dubs (24 beers on tap) Mugsy's has only eight or ten. But, they do have Amberbock, Guiness, and a hefeweisen of some sort. You aren't limited to the Big 3, which is nice. Basically, the place usually gets the job done, but Sunday it failed miserably.

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  6. As someone who has been in your situation, out of the area and wanting to see the Hawks, I recommend you get DirecTV for yourself if you are truly irate about it. You'll save money on your food/beer bill, you won't have the frustration of dealing with idiot fans of other teams (or waitresses, although boobs are go a long way in forgiving ineptitude) and you don't have to drink and drive.

    Although there is something to be said for watching your team at a bar, particularly a hostile one.

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  7. Thanks a lot, Alba... My already crappy day has now been made that much worse by the heathen Mike and Mike praying to Everett and his family. What's next, Tatupu goes down with a lavalava-related injury?

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  8. Mmmmm....Hefeweisen!

    One of my new personal favorites.

    And who cares if I look like a fag, yes, I do want my trendy and superficial orange slice, thank you very much!

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  9. Aaahhh, my pick for football brew, and it hit the spot Sunday: One big, hairy, Oatmeal Stout with a shot of Jack dropped in. Moderately cold, chased by a not-so-famous-but-getting-there Bloofy Cheesesteak.

    Take 1/2 grilled onion, 1/2 cup diced grilled green and red pepper, a little salt, a bunch of black pepper, a dash of cayenne, 1 tbsp chili powder, 1 tbsp cumin.

    Pan fry the above with 1 lb shredded roast beef in light oil. Melt in 1 lb. pepper jack. Serve on toasted french roll, sliced in half.

    Eat sandwich, drink one more oatmeal boilermaker, repeat.

    Fuck the bar and grill. It's better at home. So are the tits.

    ReplyDelete