Tuesday, January 31, 2006

I can't believe it's not butta, baby...

The homeruns, as plentiful as the inappropriate homosexual advances last week, rained down like very gay men along side the asbestos in this, our last regular season game.
Leading the team in the barrage was...yes, back from being very European...I can't believe it's not Fass:

Nice job Fabio. Now clean up that wetspot over there with your shirt...no, no the other shirt too...that's it.

And now for something not as completely disturbing nor European. Paul "I'll never stay at 1st base as long as I live" Culligan, complemented with as many (or more...I wasn't paying attention) homeruns in support of his own ruthless pitching effort (pictured below).

Perhaps understated but more significant were the excellent contributions of the ladies in both setting the table (not in the 'they belong in the kitchen...make me a turkey pot pie woman!' way but rather the 'getting on base so they can score' ~if you know what I'm talkin' about...oh yeah...giggity giggity~kind of way) as well as sensational defensive displays in the field (artist's renderings below).

Most crucial to the evening's success was the traditional post-victory/loss boozing accentuated by the multiple rounds of flip cup played on the beautifully hand crafted, yet portable table.

The End


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