Fantasy Draft Rager Details

Got the fantasy football draft party deets on lock down bitches! This is going to be like infinity cooler than last year when we got to the private party room at Applebee’s only to find it had already been rented out to a bunch of dudes for their Dungeons & Dragons draft and we had to do it in the corner behind the bar (Again sorry about that, honest error on my part and now when I Bluetooth a voice command to my iPhone calendar app I double-check the calendar afterward). Bullshit those dudes wouldn’t let us crash their D&D draft party though, they had a sick wing and jalapeno popper spread. This year we be goin’ to The Tilted Kilt! Booyahz! If there is one thing we love as much as a fantasy world created as a layer on top of the second-hand sports we already watch but don’t actually participate in, its white trash chicks with bills to pay and titty tattoos pretending they might fuck us if they just didn’t have to pull a double today. Man I can’t wait! My nephew Luke is in the Audio/Visual club in high school and has permission to borrow an emcee system and will be announcing the draft so we make this shit authentic like we’re at Madison Square Garden and not The Tilted Kilt in the strip mall on Jefferson and Oak. Do you guys like watery, flavorless beer served from headache inducing pump draft? Me too. Our own keg of Miller mutherfucking Lite customized with our own fantasy league logo. What is our fantasy league logo? A badass fucking dragon spitting fire, that’s what. I made it with my son’s Knights and Dragons stencil set but the wing separators on the stencil are both torn so to be honest it looks like a cobra puking with a cloud behind it. But still pretty fucking cool? Just in case anyone gets hungry (Hah! Who doesn’t get hungry after pounding Miller Lite’s in a strip mall…..) I’ve got a serious party spread ordered. Chips, check. Mozzarella sticks, check. Wings, duh, check. Mini club sandwiches, check. Pepsi for Mike due to the little glug-glug, vroom-vroom, crash-crash incident that resulted in a stint in rehizzle this summer, check. I tried to get pizzas but they said we had to commit to six large and I was concerned we couldn’t eat that much pizza what with a full chip spread as an app. So no pizzas. But if you really get a stiff on for pizza there is a Papa John’s in the strip mall. You’ll of course have to eat the pizza at Papa John’s or outside because they won’t let you bring Papa John’s into The Tilted Kilt. Total bullshit but it is what it is. Oh wait, did I mention Tilted Onion Stack? TILTED ONION STACK, CHECK MATE. This is going to be the premier party of Labor Day Weekend 2014. My wife and kids are going to a lake house owned by some d-bag guy my wife works with. He has a speed boat and some jet skis and is Italian and lifts weights all the time and zzzzzzzz, sounds fucking lame as shit to me. We’re going to rock the socks off that party all night long. Well until 6pm, we only have the room rented until 6pm. But after we can totally get another table at The Tilted Kilt if any of you other bros’ families are spending the weekend at some Italian dude’s lake house and wanna party and watch some late season baseball on the big screens until we have to leave at 11pm. This Titled Kilt closes early because of zoning laws affecting the strip mall. It doesn’t matter. We’ll be full of Miller Lite with the ill-fitting jerseys of large African-American males on our backs, the world is our oyster. And if anyone responds saying they have to check in remotely via Bluetooth because of some queer-assed family obligation, guess what pussy? You draft last. Don’t worry though, I’m sure the Cleveland Browns second wide receiver will score you a ton of points. Oh, and just to save everyone whispering to me on Saturday “Who is the little Indian guy you brought with you?”, his name is Sunil. Works in programming at my office. Fucking stud at spreadsheets. You’ll be glad he’s there.

I’ll see you fuckers on Saturday. I hope those Dungeons & Dragons nerds are there, I’ll tell them that only dorks play fantasy Middle Ages while the real men play fantasy SPORTS. I wish I would’ve thought of that last year when they told us we couldn’t hang out in their party room, but I was too pissed.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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