Insufferable Road Trip

Recovering from last week’s trip to the state capitol has been a long and difficult process, especially since I’ve spent every day and night since working, but things are letting up and I’ve finally gotten a chance to go through my photos from the blessed event. The memories, though, are not quite as clear.

I rolled into Nashville after work and went with my friend Chris and his (much) better half for dinner and several beers at 12th South Taproom, where I was introduced to Yazoo’s Dos Perros, which is outstanding. I will definitely be visiting Yazoo on my next trip to the Muzak City. Unfortunately the area around 12th South was crawling with hippies, but I was able to withstand their collective stench long enough to enjoy dinner.

Afterwards, they kindly dropped me downtown where I met up with a bunch of pricks who were cramming red meat down their gaping maws as quickly as the waitress could bring refills. As I was only 80% intoxicated, I felt it was important to guzzle down a few more beers and an Irish whiskey so that my head would be fully spinning by the time I hit the sack.

Sitting around shooting the shit with Smantix, Cranky, Nigel and their guests was quite entertaining, I must say.

The next day, after an excellent breakfast at Le Peep, I got to play some tennis at my old stomping grounds, after which it was time for some tax-free shopping.

After meeting up with Vinnie (and his much better half) at the hotel, I noticed that I had an eagle’s eye view of Vanderbilt Stadium, where years of abject failure have provided the Nashville sporting public with the humiliation they so richly deserve.

The Official Home of Football Failure™

Later that night, we had some pre-game cocktails at Flemings and then headed down to Boscos for dinner.

Cranky’s refusal to pick up the
tab may result in a login deletion.

We were joined by T-Man and Toni, who seemed to fit right in. Although, I did think T and Cranky’s brother-in-law where about to throw hands while discussing what wiped out the dinosaurs. Toni and I, however, will never get along. She’s into Phil Valentine and I’m into Steve Gill. Oil and water.

Afterwards, we wandered down to Sportsmans for a billiards brawl (and so Nigel could watch his damn Padres).

Vinnie’s PETA shirt (People Eating
Tasty Animals) was well received indeed

On the way, however, Cranky almost got us arrested.

You are wrong for that.

Pool was played, more beer was consumed and, luckily for me, no money changed hands as the result any illegal wagering. Because I would have come out on the losing end.

Pocket pool.

I must thank those who traveled so far for so little. It was a fukken blast – next year we’ll try to get Annika to join us. Maybe? Maybe?

On a side note, someone must have leaked our plans to Nashville’s leftard community, because they were out in force with their gay horses trying to track us down. Luckily, our disguises worked like a charm.

Nashville is Riding


  1. Ahhhhh…..that’s what that sound was! It was either that or the hippies in the next room fighting over who got to rip Vinnie’s PETA shirt off his back.

  2. Then again, I’ve been wondering ever since why Merri demanded I bring up fresh batteries when I went down for a smoke break.

    If it WAS our room, it was a one-sided awful humping noise.

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