Sunday Jan 18, 2008 The Skins have just won a birth in the Super Bowl (against the Steelers) by defeating the Cardinals 27-21. I have texted, emailed, and called every person I have a way of contacting to discuss the game and the Super Bowl. I go on to say “Hail to the Redskins,” we’re going to the Super Bowl,” and “F-yeah” a thousand times this night. After everyone stops corresponding with me, I sit alone in my chair drinking a beer, reflecting upon my Skins. I am proud.
Monday Jan 19 – Monday Jan 26
The week was spent networking with all my contacts (I have none) to try and secure Super Bowl tickets. General Motors comes thru with 2 club seats to the big game (because it’s my dream, and in my dream the auto industry is rockin!) An executive who works for the NFL really likes my blog, and secures me a press pass for media day as well as the Gridiron Greats dinner. Try, try, try as I may, I cannot score Maxim party passes.
Tuesday Jan 27 – Media Day
I know I need to stand out, so I dress myself in a giant pickle costume. I have the word “FAT” painted across my pickle chest. Portis asks to borrow my costume for a future interview. I see the sportscaster George Michael, and tell him it’s good to see him again. He must not recognize me in my pickle costume. “George, I’m the guy who always tells you that you were awesome in Silence of the Lambs.” I ask some F’ed up questions to the Skins and Steelers, some are answered, others get me an inch away from getting my ass beat. I somehow talk Troy Polamalu into letting me cut off a lock of his hair.
Wednesday Jan 28 – Gridiron Greats
I’m here at the Hard Rock Casino with 100 of the greatest players of all time. I’m in awe, and this dinner is for an awesome cause. My pickle costume is put away, and my questions are honest and sincere. The dinner is buffet style, and as I approach the buffet, so is Michael Irvin. In one fluid motion, I nudge Irvin to the side, button hook, and while shielding him, grab a plate. Michael is so impressed by this “offensive pass interference,” he invites me to be on his reality show. I win and I must go to training camp with the Cowboys, where I show flashes of being a 35 yr old Tim Dwight. Ultimately I am cut, but not before I photocopy the playbook and turn it over to the Redskins.
Tim Brown, Fatpickle, Michael Irvin, Warren Moon, Ty Law
Thursday Jan 29 – Snooper Bowl/Maxim Party
My wife and I head over to the Snooper Bowl to watch Snoop coach. After the game I approach Snoop, who happens to be wearing a #43 Steelers Jersey.
FP: Hey Snoop
Snoop: What up cuz?
FP: I got a dime bag of Troy Polamalu’s hair.
Snoop: Fo shizzle? TP? That’s some good shit. How much?
FP: 2 tickets to the Maxim party.
Snoop: Done, you can roll with Snoop, Fatpickle my nizzle.
FP: Let’s get this thing crackin, bring your green hat.
Snoop, Fergie, Fatpickle
The Maxim party was awesome, lots of celebrities, dancing, and booze. The only problem was Eva Mendes. She started stalking me half way thru the party and continues to do so. This chick can’t take a hint. Eva, I know you’re reading this, I’m happily married, move on.
The stalker, Fatpickle
Sunday Feb 1 – Super Bowl
The Skins beat the Steelers 29-23 in overtime on a 73 yard Campbell to Moss TD. Portis was solid rushing for 112 yards. Campbell had a Phil Simms like day, going 21-24, 264 yds and another TD to Cooley. I have a permanet smile on my face that will not go away for weeks. Our seats were awesome and Springsteen rocked. Life is good!
But after more thought, I’m intrigued. It comes from my favorite channel for reality TV, VH1. From the old school “Behind The Music,” to the current “Rock of Love” and “Confessions of a Teen Idol,” VH1 knows their reality.
I mean, it’s obvious that T.O. has some mental and personal issues. I think I need to see where that goes. If I can kill an hour captivated by Scott Baio, I think I just might get my popcorn ready for Terrell. Who knows, maybe he’ll come out of the closet half way thru the season. I’ve always been under the premise that if your a man over 30, never been married, and you have a six pack, you’re probably gay. And, if it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, well….
T.O. knows how TV works, editing, and all that stuff!
The car is packed and running and we are confirming we have everything we need before our short flight to Fort Lauderdale, where we will be jumping on a cruise ship to the Bahamas.
Suitcases, check. ID/Passports, check. My balls are still in my wife’s purse, check. Good, I’m hoping to need those quite a bit this week. (I’m thinking the reason I buy my wife so many expensive purses is so my boyz have a nice place to stay.)
The flight and cab ride are remarkably smooth and we arrive early to the boat. Our rooms will not be ready till 1pm, but the buffet is open. Awesome, is there a better way to spend an hour and half than a pig bar? My wife reminds me to not forget our room number, #4037. Easy, the 4th floor is the main deck, and the #37 is permanently embedded in my mind from the movie Clerks. (Warning adult humor)I’ll show you the way there honey, just try not to…unless it’s me
Everyone checking onto the boat was directed to the buffet. This provided awesome people watching, as well as limitless chances to play the “Billy Bob Thornton” game. I saw Elisha Cuthbert, Hal Holbrook, and the father from Good Times. I was especially pleased with the last pick, because the “John Amos” in question was actually a woman! It was during this time that my wife informed me that the boat held over 2000 people and we were going to be on it for 4 days, so I needed only to point out A-list celebrities. Hmm, a challenge!
I sampled nearly everything on the menu, and washed it down with 4 Coronas. My wife tells me to pace myself, or I’m gonna be asleep by 8pm. “No way,” I told her. “Dinners not till 8:30″
We check into the room and “relax” for a little while. So it’s now 1:30 and I am….asleep! I challenge anyone to eat for an hour, drink 4 beers, “relax”, and not take a nap. Oh wait, my wife didn’t need one. So we’re off to the pool deck for more sun and fun. We decide that we will take the steps up to the 11th floor, and will continue to use the stairs all week for some exercise. Once again, I guess the 15 minutes of “relaxing” wasn’t enough. It sure tuckered me out.
The pool provided more great people watching. Except for the guy standing directly in my line of sight wearing the banana sling. There’s always one in every crowd. This guy fit the mold to the T. Big belly, lots of back hair. And it’s not a banana, it looks more like an acorn sitting on a peach. And there is nothing I can do to avoid the sight. He’s directly in front of me, he won’t sit down, and he won’t get in the pool. Just stands there, apparently for everyone to enjoy. This only makes me drink more. Our fun was interrupted by the Captain informing everyone to report for a mandatory exercise with our life jackets. One things for sure, by the looks of things around the pool, there’s a lot of chicks in no danger of drowning. They’ve brought their own flotation devices, and it looks like they can make it to Nassau on their own!
“Jack and Rose” headed to the mandatory disaster drill. This was a little anti-climatic other than the Titanic references and Cameron Diaz being there. However, my wife didn’t agree with me on Cameron. She gave me the “hmmm, kinda.” So I’m still on the lookout. We retreated back to our room to get ready for the evening. My wife napped. So just to give you an idea, at this point we both have napped, and we each got 6 or 8 beers in us. Oh yeah, the ship hasn’t even left yet!
I feel the like Clifford the big red dog in our room. In fact, anyone short of Vern Troyer would. I have to sleep against a wall, and to turn around, I need to go in the hall. I needed to get ready for dinner, so I jumped in the shower. I used the bar of soap provided by the ship, even though my wife brought the nice smelling bath and body works gels. I only use the bars of soap when I’m at a hotel, and I always love it. It makes me long for the days of a simple bar of Lever or Irish Spring. I think you get much cleaner and do it faster with a bar of soap. Faster, except for the 5 additional minutes spent trying to get that one stubborn pubic hair to fall off the soap.
Dinner was awesome, we got a table for two, by a window in the corner. I ordered the lamb shanks for dinner, a move that upset my wife for eating the “babies.” I did not improve my position by making noises about how good it was, and doing my best Hannibal Lector “tell me Clarice, have the lambs stopped crying.”
Fat, drunk, and happy after dinner, we made our way to the alluring sights and sounds of the Casino Royal. We grabbed a couple beers and changed a couple hundreds. 3 card poker was the game of choice. 3 hands in, I get dealt a straight flush, the best hand you can get in 3 card poker. My $5 bet turned into $200! Winner, winner, chicken dinner! Over the course of the trip the wife and I would total 4 straight flushes, “Hey everybody, we’re all going to get laid.”
We made it back to the room @ 11pm. Totally whipped from the day. We did manage the strength to order a pizza and nachos from room service. I thought I would sleep like a rock, but the bed had other plans for me. I had the wall to contend with, along with a sucky pillow and sheets. Until I met my wife, I had no idea about sheets and thread counts. Go ahead baby, buy the 600 count sheets instead of the 200 count. If I’m gonna get laid 400 more times, I’m in. But once you slide your sweet cheeks into a 600 count sheet, you quickly know the difference. I’m not sure what was on our bed in our room, but I’m pretty sure I weigh more than the count, and that’s a bad ratio.
The following morning brought the first dilemma of the trip. I’ve already explained how small the room is, I’ve also read that my toilet may not flush every time. On top of that, there is this sign above the toilet.
Items other than toilet paper?
Meanwhile, that weatherman from The Perfect Storm, (Happy Gilmore’s nemesis) is drawing a diagram of my lower abdomen.
“See over here we have the McDonald’s breakfast and lunch buffet. Now over here we have the lamb shanks and room service. Sitting on top of it all is a twelve pack of Corona. It’s all meeting right here (circle my lower abdomen) to form, the perfect turd.
Even though I’d like to stumble 2 steps to the bathroom to take care of business, I take my tired, hungover ass on a field trip to find a restroom. Searching around like Harry Dunne when he picked up Mary in Dumb and Dumber, I find solitude in the Casino restroom. I’m not sure if this boat’s for sale, but I’m getting ready to put a large deposit on it. After re-shuffling the deck, I’m ready to put a hurtin on some bacon at the buffet, Captain Chaos style!
The remaining days of the trip were more of the same. More food, booze, and gambling. I do have a couple more things to share:
Atlantis is bad-ass, we will vacation there in the future. If you are considering Atlantis, go, it’s like Bellagio on the beach, but better.
My 98lb wife and I drank 48 beers in 3 days on the boat.
I saw more celebs, but never the A-list variety. I saw the Asian guy from Mad TV and a Filipino Matt Damon. I thought for sure I was going to see an actual celeb at the Atlantis, but we didn’t, even though this was going on.
Asian Mad TV Guy
One things for sure, nearly 19 years after our first date, my wife is hotter and cooler than ever. There is no one else I would want to spend 4 days alone with, nor do I know of anyone who could stand me for 4 days. You’re my girl, I love you baby.
Seeing the excitement in my sons eyes when I got home was incredible. He ran up to me for a hug with his arms spread wider than Plaxico Burress begging a ref for a pass interference call.
Now, back to the real world. Fatpickled will be back in business tomorrow.
This is will be the last post for a little while, as my lovely bride and I cruise on down to the Bahamas! A few days in the sun, eating too much, drinking too much, and gambling too much. Sounds like it’s just what the doctor ordered. In the meantime, I’m leaving you with some reading material that I’ve enjoyed this week.
I also want to invite everyone to check out http://www.fatpickled.com/. It’s still a work in progress, but you can follow the blog there, so please bookmark it. It’s a hell of a lot easier to find than the whole budlightthoughts thing. I don’t even want to get into the whole email conversation I had with my mom today, but I’ll just say it started with her saying she couldn’t find my fatpickle. (it’s probably in my wife’s purse, headed for the Bahamas)
This post originally debuted at the Cooley Zone I was at a Super Bowl party at a friend’s house back in Feb. 2004. Joe Jacoby was at the party, and I kinda know Joe from being in the same line of business. So I’m saddled up next to him at the buffet line when I strike up a conversation.
Fatpickle: “Our boy Art got F’d again, huh?”
Joe Jacoby (all 6 foot 6 inches of him, glares down at me and says):
“He’s not the only one.”
I quietly grabbed a few more bacon wrapped scallops and retreated to a quiet place. And I realized, yeah, he’s not the only one. The Redskins had a dynasty from 1982-1991, and until last year only one player was in the Hall of Fame? How about Jacoby, Mosely, Grimm, Bostic, Clark, Mann, and Manley. The HOF system is flawed!
The Hall of Fame balloting is like some super secret club. Secret ballots, secret meetings. This much we do know, the wizards behind the curtain are Peter King and Dr. Z. They single handily kept Monk out of the Hall all those years. And with all due respect to Dr. Z, who is recovering from a series of strokes (get well soon), these guys piss me off to no end. What we have is a bunch of sportswriters who have never played football, who are voting players in or out. So, if you blew off Peter King a couple times for an interview 10 years ago, it’s probably going to come back to F you in the long run. However, if you text him inside info, or grab a bite to eat with him, your getting in the Hall. And since I’ve got a sports blog, why can’t I vote? Chris, your good to go since you granted me this interview. If you had blown me off, LJ Smith would be in the Hall before you are!
All of that brings me to Russ Grimm, Mr. Hog. Russ is the one thing left this year for Redskin’s fans to cheer for. He’s a finalist for the Hall of Fame for the 5th consecutive season. He’s also a coach for the Arizona Cardinals, and is a candidate for head coaching positions. He could possibly have the greatest week of his life next week. Hall of Fame on Saturday, Super Bowl win on Sunday, Head Coach on Monday. I’m pulling for you Russ.
Here’s my choices for the NFL Hall of Fame 2009
Shannon Sharpe – He retired with every TE record you could have. That didn’t mean anything for Art Monk, but I hope it does for Shannon. I’m assuming he was one of Chris’s idols?
Bruce Smith – One of the greatest of all-time. Not so much with the Redskins.
Rod Woodson – Simply one of the best ever at the Cornerback position. Also a game changer on special teams.
Chris Carter – Now that Art is in, you can put Carter in. All he does is catch touchdowns. Nope, if he did, he’d have over 1,100!
Russ Grimm – 4 time All-Pro and Pro Bowler. 3 Super Bowl rings. The best offensive lineman for the most well-known offensive line in NFL history. Mr. Hog