5 days of pain

It's kickball night...which means I obviously have to write something.

But let's not look towards the future. Let's go back. We can call this, "QP Live's Week in Sports".

Friday night was memorable....because I still feel Friday night. Man, was I intoxicated...on hot dogs. Probably the greatest thing a person can say to a male sports fan is "luxury box". Why? Because it's free food, free drink, free awesome. It rained the entire game and I didn't get hit with a drop of rain the entire time. We made a pretty sweet rule that at no point could your plate not have food on it. This rule last 2 innings before we all looked at each other in pain after the first inning and agreed that the second inning was the longest we could play this game. Don't fret fans, we put on a good display.

By the way, it turns out I can't in fact eat 15 hot dogs in one sitting. I can, however, eat 7 in two innings. All of us took the "it's a sprint, not a marathon" approach to this game. No one wasn't miserable. I was so full that I wasn't even able to get buzzed. I had 2 beers with all the food I enhailed. I tried to drink a third when I realized that I was not actually going to overcome my extreme feeling of full without booting. So, naturally, I tried to toughen it out. I've never booted from food before and I'm not about to do it now. So I took the usual approach of trying to burp it out, drink some water, take deep breaths. After inning 3, no improvement. After inning 4, I felt the same...but surely this was a good sign because that means I'm not getting any worse. Inning 5 was the one that changed all of this. I declare that I am going to the bathroom and stumble as if I've had 14 shots and am about to boot. I get out of the luxury box in 5 steps. this is significant because my mouth was full with saliva. So I spit it out and 5 steps later, full again. Repeat this every 5 steps to the bathroom, roughly 40 steps away, and I am closing the door to the stall behind me. Roughly 30 seconds into this I realize that in order to live I need to A) boot and B) swear to myself I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever do this to myself again (note: as a punishment, I just typed each ever individually - I'm a sick bastard). So I can feel it coming out, lean over the toilet, get ready, here it comes and....nothing. Just a dry heave...a very painful one though. Then another one is coming and surely this will be it! Nope. Nothing. I do this for about another 10 minutes and all I got out was a little liquid. I even was doing some calisthenics in the bathroom to force it out and nothing was doing. I'm so glad no one else came in during this time, though I could have used a friend to punch me in the stomach...not that they didn't offer in the luxury box, but I'm not trying to destroy to box.

So I stumble back to the box, sweaty, and enter. I got looks for 10 people who all know what's been going on and I declare I feel no better and couldn't boot. Then I decide I will stand up and see if this helps. I go through cycles of 1 minute of pain, 15 seconds of burping, 15 seconds of feeling decent, 1 minute of pain, repeat. this goes on for 2 more innings. Entering the bottom of the 8th inning I get a good burp in followed by an audible, "Oh my God, I FEEL FINE!". Roughly 2 hours and 6 innings later, I'm alive.

A lot of comments were made, most about how miserable I was going to feel on Saturday and such, but I woke up and felt fine....a true miracle.

Saturday and Sunday were sectionals for ultimate. We played some lower level club teams, a college team and then a few decent club teams. We were not challenged at any point, though, credit goes to HOV for getting two breaks to start the finals. We ended up taking half 8-6 and the game 15-6. But props to them for playing strong D most of the game.

Sunday afternoon we went to Adams Mill to watch the games. This was one of the best Sundays ever. We got hammered, we made friends with a few people at the bar and we also made enemies. I girl yelled at us to stop making some annoying sound that had been going on for a while. Yeah, great idea slut. Tell the drunk annoying kids to stop doing something...see where that gets ya? So, obviously, we start doing it more and more, to the point where we do it in a circle a few times. She keeps telling us to shut the fuck up, so I start the whole, "Pull your socks down. CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP". She was wearing short shorts and high socks. Easy target. It was funny to us, but apparently her boyfriend was not too happy with this guy. Props again to Chaz for controlling the environment and not letting him find out that when you mess with QP Live, you mess with me too...

he was bigger than me. he would have won by a landslide...mostly due to size, but let's not take away that I could barely walk or see at the time.

to add though, and I don't want to sound like an asshole or anything, but a chick doesn't have the right in a shitty dive bar of people watching the NFL to tell us to stop doing something, regardless of how irritating. In fact, she doesn't have the right to not be stroking her boyfriend while she's there. I should kick his ass for letting her not be the fucking slutbag that she is....oh well, there's always next Sunday, since they go every week, just like our crew.

Monday was MNF, meaning night 2 of getting drunk and eating wings. A fun game it was, but no motorboats to report. Nothing too exciting either, other than a good NFC East game and a win for the home team.

Tuesday was softball night. Our game started late and then was suspended due to darkness. the only highlight of this was the walk from the fields to the bar. Along the way, we had to wait for the light at 17th and Constitution Ave. There was a big yellow school bus with some kids in it waiting at the right turn arrow. These were probably kids in either 7th, 8th or 9th grade...meaning their obnoxious/just my type/exactly what my game is suited for. So these girls were making faces and yelling random junk at these tourists who were waiting on the corner as well. I had enough of it as the bus started turning, so I took 2 steps into the road and smacked the window that these girls were hanging out of. I thought it was appropriate and this was justified when my teammates started laughing and the tourists gave me a thank you thumbs up and a laugh. The girls screamed and then a few feet further down the road yelled something like "we're not scared of you". I wanted to run down the bus and hang onto the window as it drove, but I also want to swim like a dolphin and that's not happening either.

Wednesday was ultimate practice. please note, do not layout on concrete. it hurts. we play on a "grass" field on Wednesdays that haven't been rained on since hell was formed. they are rock solid, but I was feeling it last night and decided that I would dive for this one disc I was running down. I caught it...but landed on my fingers, bruising them, cut up my right shoulder, left hip and left elbow. sweet. totally worth it.

so tonight is kickball. I was told by a teammate of mine that I should give up the goal of shutting out every team.

to that I say, no. I'm QP Live and you're me. we shut bitches out. but how do you look at a kid like this and not take his advice seriously. i mean, would you doubt a person with, well you see that thing. impressive.