"FUCK THE YANKEES!"
That's right, I said it, I said "Fuck those fucking Yankee fucks!" I went to the game last night, again. It was fucking rockass awesome. After class at 4:00 myself, Toomajian and Jake Croghan all went to the Continental to rondayvoo with the Continentalites. Cooter, Shai, Mike Estrada, Sean and Bernard all came along. We schmobbed in style, rolling up in a fucking hella yellow H2. Those things are really fucking cool inside, hella comfortable, and yellow to represent the A's. Shai's dumbass broke a bottle of Capt Mo whilst we were loading shit up. The funniest part of the trip there was pulling up next to some Yankee fans and yelling, "Fuck the Yankees!!!" at them while hitting the hookah. This got the attention of a bunch of A's fans who all started honking and yelling shit about the Yankees being homosexual or something, something about Jeter giving it to Giambi or something. We got Free VIP Parking from Cooter's boy Bernard, so we tailgated hardcore. We drank a lot of fucking rum and beer before getting into that game. And we screamed at a bunch of shitty Yankee fans. Surprisingly enough the port-o-potties outside the Coliseum smelled alright. After getting so shitfaced we went around to those fuckers at the MBNA booths and got a bunch of free towels and shirts, I gave a bunch of them away to people I knew from last year for free beer and BBQ. Free BBQ is great, but free beer is fucking awesome. I found my old friend Icebox, that guy is the fucking man. He weighs close to 400 lbs, and just this past week became the Tag Team Champion of Oakland's Professional Wrestling organization. I miss that big man, with his big heart, and free beer already... So here I am drinking free beer and eating free BBQ ribs and potato salad and bread and this fucking guy sitting next to me, Jake Croghan, gets a call from his little sister, Jenna Croghan. "TREVOR'S HERE AT OUR HOUSE!"
Immediately myself and Jake ran around the Coliseum to get to BART, said hey to all our good friends on our way out. On a sad note, I found out my crackhead friend John got fired, probably for being such a fucking crackhead. Poor guy. So we ran all the way to BART and got on the train, and came all the way back to CV to miss the A's stomp the living fucking shit out of those Yankee fuckers. Take that Shai, you fucking fat retard. Why'd that fool have to bring a broom to the Coliseum with NY on that shit? He could have got us all into a fight with our own team's fans. What a fucking dick. Anyway, it was about this point that I got to the Croghans and the extreme drinking commenced... vision fades to black... I woke up at Emmily's house and needed to vomit. It was shitty. I spent the first 4 hours of regained consciousness walking back and forth between the bed and the toilet while Emmily was at school. It was this reason we didn't end up going to Santa Cruz as planned, and I still feel like vomitting. My little brother did hella good at his Championship swim meet. He beat Jordan Mar who got upset because, "He doesn't even train!" Which just makes victory for my brother that much sweeter. Fuck the Yankees. I probably had more to say before my memory gave out last night, Trevor is well. Tunes was there, too, he's also doing alright... except for with that fucking devil cocaine on his back. I want to smoke a blunt, it would make my head and stomach feel better... oh well, I guess I'll just lay in bed until someone calls.
Immediately myself and Jake ran around the Coliseum to get to BART, said hey to all our good friends on our way out. On a sad note, I found out my crackhead friend John got fired, probably for being such a fucking crackhead. Poor guy. So we ran all the way to BART and got on the train, and came all the way back to CV to miss the A's stomp the living fucking shit out of those Yankee fuckers. Take that Shai, you fucking fat retard. Why'd that fool have to bring a broom to the Coliseum with NY on that shit? He could have got us all into a fight with our own team's fans. What a fucking dick. Anyway, it was about this point that I got to the Croghans and the extreme drinking commenced... vision fades to black... I woke up at Emmily's house and needed to vomit. It was shitty. I spent the first 4 hours of regained consciousness walking back and forth between the bed and the toilet while Emmily was at school. It was this reason we didn't end up going to Santa Cruz as planned, and I still feel like vomitting. My little brother did hella good at his Championship swim meet. He beat Jordan Mar who got upset because, "He doesn't even train!" Which just makes victory for my brother that much sweeter. Fuck the Yankees. I probably had more to say before my memory gave out last night, Trevor is well. Tunes was there, too, he's also doing alright... except for with that fucking devil cocaine on his back. I want to smoke a blunt, it would make my head and stomach feel better... oh well, I guess I'll just lay in bed until someone calls.