The Cramp

Well I'm back from Florida and I wish I had some really great, crazy story to tell but unfortunately I do not. I was only able stay down there for two days so I really didn't have enough time to cause my usual havoc on the community. However, it was still a great time and as you might have guessed, we did a bit of drinking. Actually, all we did was drink. It was pretty much 48 hours of constant binge drinking. From the time we arrived at the Philly airport at 9am until the time we woke up to leave Florida we drank. The only time during the entire trip that I did not have an alcoholic beverage in my hand was when I slept, which was also pretty interesting. Somehow, I got stuck sleeping in an armchair (an un-reclineing armchair) both nights. If I had not had the aide of so many beverages I probably would not have slept very much, but since I was unconscious I was able to contort my body rather uncomfortably across this chair, kinda slinging one leg over the arm of the chair with my head hanging off the other side. I passed out in that position in front of the entire family and all their party guests the first night. Class. The father of the bride then tea-bagged me. He used an actual bag of tea rather then the bag of nuts we are used to, but it's the thought that counts. The second night I found myself in the same position only this time all was not well. Sometime around 4am it happened. The cramp.

For anyone lucky enough not to have had this experience, the cramp is a charlie horse that occurs in the back of your calf, locking the muscle in contraction. It is the worst agonizing pain ever. Anyone that has had this happen knows what I'm talking about. One minute your fast asleep the next your riving in pain and, if your a bitch like me, screaming like a sissy girl. It is really that bad, it feels like your muscle is tearing and twisting around the bone as if someone is giving it an Indian burn. Fuck, that shit is so painful just thinking about it. Apparently it is caused by a lack of potassium and dehydration. Since I'm often dehydrated, this was not my first experience with the cramp. I used to get them a lot in high school when I played hockey almost everyday. One time I was lying on my couch as if it where any normal day. Little did I know it was cramp day. All of a sudden I felt it coming. I felt a little tweak in my calf and if you can get there in time and pull your foot towards your body, stretching the muscle before it locks, sometimes you can stop it. I did not get there in time. As I'm lying on my back in agony, I felt the other leg tweak. Two cramps! Both Legs! That's nuts, unheard of. It was the most painful ten minutes of my life. I was lying there screaming, feeling like Lt. Dan when he got both his legs blown off in Nam. Never a more painful experience. One time I got the cramp during sex. I was on top doing my thing when suddenly the cramp struck mid hump. Not only did it impede the humping, but I started gritting my teeth and pounding the pillow with my fist as I wailed in pain. This chick must have thought I was coming with the thunder. And I had to reach behind my back to try and pull my foot upward to stop it so it looked like I was doing the can opener. What this poor girl must be thinking. I'm screaming, wiggling around and grabbing my ankle behind my back, like that's my finishing move or pose or something. That's how I get off, with a ridiculous dance from 1991. How embarrassing.

The cramp is a sneaky bastard too. It attacks in your sleep. It does give you a second before it attacks though. It doesn't just strike and then you wake, it gives you a moment. It wakes you, you get confused for a moment to wonder why you are awake, and then it strikes. I was lying on this armchair in a contorted position (which probably didn't help) and all of a sudden I woke up around 4am. I was disoriented and had to ask myself "why am I awake, I drank enough booze to not be awake". And then it hit me. The cramp! I remember saying "Noooo" as I futilely tried grabbing for my leg. I then started flailing my arms after it hit and began screaming. I woke up the five other bodies that were strewn across the floor and couches from last nights binge and they laughed at my misery before going back to sleep. I laid there in pain for a good fifteen minutes before it fully passed. It is two days later and my leg is still fucking sore. I am still hobbling around favoring the leg. Fuck you cramp, you are my sworn enemy.

Other than that it was a pretty tame weekend as far as funny stories go. It was pretty funny when we were driving home from the bar and we saw three girls walking down the street so mitch and I made the driver pull over so we could bolt from the car and run after them. That's right, we no longer just roll down a window and harass girls from the car, we actually get out and run them down now. We've upgraded. What a primitive way to hit on girls, you just pull over and drunkenly run them down, like lions in the Serengeti. I'm surprised we didn't pounce on them and bite their necks when we caught them. "Hey look, girls". "Lets get 'em"! We get there all out of breath. We got their numbers though. Sweet. That was pretty funny. So was watching Hess face plant in the street the night before I left. Big boy fall hard. Just once I would like to go on a normal relaxing vacation where we don't go, go, go at light speed the whole time drinking our pickled livers away. I guess this is the business we have chosen.

- Bows

Hess Cures the Hiccups

First of all, apologies for not writing on this thing for a couple weeks, but my life has been pretty boring. I had a good run there for a while, trying new things, videotaping them, and never putting the video anywhere (you can see the standup on my wall now, finally), but lately it has been school, pub, sleep, repeat. Not too much to elaborate on. I'm really hoping Bows brings back some good material from Orlando (wish I was there, congrats KF) Nothing really has changed, except for the fact that I broke my fall with my face on Wednesday night. I will elaborate.
So, Wednesday night begins like any other..."Yeah, just going out for a couple beers, nothing crazy." I don't even know why we kid ourselves. I'm not sure if any real man has successfully went out for just one beer. Anyway, several beers (and carbombs) later, I was so hammerfaced that I can't even tell you who was all there at this point. Also, at some point I acquired a nasty case of hiccups.
So, I tried everything. The hold your breath thing, holding your breath while drinking, probably tried to scare myself. Nothing, I was totally at a loss. So, we're outside smoking, which really sucks with the hiccups, when LBR3 suggests I do a "head rush" to resolve the problem. For those of you that aren't familiar with the term, a head rush is when you bend over like you are going to touch your toes, take several deep breaths, and then stand up straight. This always results in a lightheaded, high feeling. Now just a sidenote, I should've been skeptical, because I've had problems with this move before.
Back in the day, we were hanging out at the rapids when we all formed a circle and started doing head rushes for fun. Anyway, when it was my turn I came straight up and fell straight back. Didn't even try and break my fall. Passed out. When I came to, my good friends were kicking my lifeless body and yelling wake up as I convulsed on the ground. So, right away, red flags should've been going up...maybe a head rush is not a good cure for the hiccups?
Well, Larry must've been very convincing, cause I stuck my head between my legs and started sucking...air (zing). When I came up I must have been unconscious on my feet, but instead of falling back I stumbled/ran right into Walnut St. and totally faceplanted. Pretty much the last thing I remember is holding a dirty barmop to face while pouring blood and cursing. To make matters worse I passed out on the little couch in my living room and barely woke up in time for work the next day.
The best (or worse) part was trying to explain what happened in school the next day.
"Mr. Hess did you get in a fight"
"Yeah, you should see the other guy"
Until I made up an elaborate lie about playing roller hockey in a no checking league, when some asshole checked me. No idea why I didn't just say I fell, because I spent most of my classes today talking about a nonexistent roller hockey league that I do not play in. Anyway, if you wanna see the ugly mug you know where to find me, or check out FB. I'll try and injure myself stupidly again soon, so I have something to write about. I'm on my way out to watch TU, play with matches and run with scissors. Late

Hess out

Shitty Day Gets Shittier, Dawkins No Longer an Eagle

I started my day yesterday at 1:00 in the afternoon when I woke up with a ridiculous hangover. This was no normal everyday hangover, this was one of those rare ones. My unique tolerance for the drink usually keeps my hangovers rather mild and short lived, but since my Rangers once again could not win to save their coaches life, I decided to indulge a bit more than usual. After boozing during that horrific Rangers game and then sitting my ass in the Pub for who knows how many beers, I went home and instead of calling it a night I decided to polish off some shots of 92 proof Sailor Jerry Rum and pop open a bottle of red wine which I drank from the bottle to the bottom. Needless to say I think it was the mixing that did me in. So I awoke completely disoriented and nauseous, and this lasted for most of the day. I did not have to work until 8pm so I had plenty of time to sit around and be worthless. I had been watching season one of “The Wire” for the past two weeks on HBO on Demand. I had watched every episode and only had one to go so I figured I would finish up the season and watch the last episode, but when I had finished watching episode 12 I was just confused. Nothing had really been solved and there were a lot of loose ends that still needed to be tied. Maybe it was just the hangover, but something was missing. It was. Upon investigation I learned that there are 13 episodes in “The Wire” season 1. On Demand only had 12. Still hungover and confused, I tried to find a logical explanation why on Demand would show the entire first season except for the finale. I could not. The only reason I could fathom was spite. Confusion now turned to anger. I had been fully engaged in this season for the past two weeks. I would come home from work at 4am and watch an episode. I would get hammered , watch an episode and then have to watch it again in the morning because I couldn't remember. I was hooked. How the fuck can these assholes not give me the final episode! You motherfuckers! I would have called Comcast to vent if I would have thought those trained monkeys could actually do something about it. I hate Comcast. My entire past two weeks have now been ruined. I finally calmed down and started flicking through the rest of my 500 worthless channels and started watching “There Will be Blood”. Fitting for the mood I was in. This is the second time I have seen this movie and I still have no clue what the fuck is going on. Anger turning back to confusion. The only thing I'm sure of is that Daniel Day-Lewis and the mustache were made for each other. If you're ever making a movie and need to fill the role of mustache, look no further. So the three hour long movie of whatever ends and I am now lying face down on my couch staring at a brown spot on my floor rather lifelessly.

Somewhere in between the confusion and the anger and the vomiting I get a text from Fontiz. Brian Dawkins was no longer a Philadelphia Eagle. Confusion once again. As a fellow fan of the green, Fontiz would know that there are certain things that just aren't joking matters like loss of employment, deaths of relatives, Dawkins leaving the Eagles, so I knew he couldn't be searching for a laugh. Maybe his information was wrong or maybe a little hasty I thought. But no, it was true. Brian Dawkins, the emotional and physical leader of the Eagles for the last 13 years was gone, signing a 5 year 17 million deal with the Denver Broncos. Sadness. Just when my day couldn't get any worse, I lose my and most Eagles fans' favorite player. It is hard to put into words what Dawkins meant to Eagles fans. In a city that loves to hate its star players, Dawkins was never booed, even if he was completely burnt on a play (which rarely happened). Dawkins embodied what it meant to be a Philadelphia Eagle, the passion and the heart to play every down as if it were the last. His on field numbers speak for themselves. A seven time pro bowler, 898 total career tackles (703 of them solo tackles), 34 career interceptions, 21 career sacks. But it was his emotion and leadership we will remember him by. The ability to lead the team by example, on the field and in the locker room. When it comes to defensive bad asses, only Ray Lewis comes to mind other than Dawkins. Whenever the team (or the fans) needed a boost, a big play, a big hit, Dawkins was always there to heed the call. Whether it was lighting up Mushi Muhammad in the endzone or flying horizontally thought the air to strip Ben Roethlisberger late in a tightly played fourth quarter, Dawkins was there.

I cannot believe the Eagles really let Dawk go. Dawkins and most of the Philly fan base had thought he would retire in midnight green and maybe even stick around the organization as a defensive coach of some sort. We do not know what the Eagles offered Dawk to stay but it must have been a pretty low ball move to send him packing from the only team he knew and loved. Especially since the Eagles are a huge 40 million under the cap. Are you kidding me, you can't toss a little bit to Dawk to keep him around! What a slap in the face to him and the fans. I'm not sure what the jersey sales numbers look like either but I'm willing to bet number 20 is not far behind number 5. At 35 we all know his NFL career was near over anyway, but I don't think any of us wanted to see him in another uniform. I personally wouldn't care if we had to designate someone in the secondary to push Dawkins' wheelchair for him while on the field, just as long as he is out there. Who am I kidding, Dawk would wheel himself out there and probably dive out of the chair to make a tackle too. Thats just the player he was and just what he brought to the rest of the team. He made everybody else better on both sides of the ball. Nobody wanted to let Dawk down. During this years improbable run to the NFC championship game, many players expressed the feeling in the locker room that they needed to get that ring for Dawkins. It was Dawkins himself that started the playoff beard late in the regular season as a symbol of what they were playing for, something to remind them every time they looked in the mirror. The beards were soon copied by the entire team including the coach and owner. Asked if he would have grown a beard at the request of any other player other than Dawkins, Andy Reid said “No, just Dawk or McNabb, this things real itchy”. And could you blame him. That beard was awful, all scraggly with white and red patches. Coach kinda looked like a really fat lion roaming the sidelines with a dead baby lamb in his mouth, but since Dawk asked...

Well now Dawk is gone and fuck the Eagles for letting it happen. Now we are left with only memories. I guess my favorite memory would be Dawkins' hit on Alge Crumpler in the fourth quarter of the 2004 NFC Championship game. Sitting ten rows back in freezing Lincoln Financial Field (I mean really freezing, our disposable cameras froze and our beers would freeze if we didn't poke holes through the frozen foam on top and chug them) with two of my best friends. Micheal “who can take a puppy by his puppy ears, fuck him in the ass till he cries puppy tears” Vick delivers a shitbag pass to Crumpler who makes a turn after the catch only to get absolutely drilled by a flying Dawkins. Words cannot really describe it. I thought he was dead. That hit pretty much killed Atlanta's hopes of making a comeback and sent the fans into a celebration that we would never forget. I'm not sure how to post videos on this site yet, but youtube has everything from last years madden intro with Dawkins to this years playoff footage of Dawkins just diving head first into players like a torpedo. Really, how do you get rid of someone that even at age 35 is always looking to run or dive through someone to take them down. There is also an awesome video entitled “Dawkins – Weapon X” up there too.

Every game I was lucky enough to attend, I would make sure we left our tailgate early to be sure we did not miss the player introductions before kickoff just because I'd hope it was the defenses' turn that day. Every home game alternates the introductions from offense to defense. I would always hope it was the Defense just to see Dawkins. The stadium would be buzzing, everyone on their feet because they knew the last player to fly out of the tunnel was always Dawkins. The announcer would shout his name, the fireworks would blast, and the fans would go into a frenzy reminding the opposing team they were in Philadelphia in case they had forgotten. I can't believe I have seen the last time Brian Dawkins will come crawling out of the tunnel on all fours like a crazed animal and sprint down the field sending the fans into that Philly chaos. Dawkins brought a meaning and passion to this team that none of us had ever seen before, and that simply can never be replaced.

- Bows