A Day at the Races

On Sunday, in celebration of my dad's 60th birthday, we visited some family friends who own a horse ranch. We pulled in at the Czech Mate Ranch, and promptly got a tour of the grounds. They own mostly fillies and mares, because they have a potential return on the investment that colts don't if they don't run well. They took pride in showing off the horses that they owned. They were nice horses, so I can't blame them. We started off by checking out the weenlings, the horses who are less than a year old.

An interesting fact about thoroughbred horses is that they're all officially born on New Years Day. Even if their birthday is New Years Eve, for racing purposes, they're considered one year old on January 1st. So most Thoroughbreds are born in between January and June, any later, and they'll be so far behind the other horses in terms of physical development that they just won't be able to keep up.

As we walked around, they showed us the yearling fillies who were going to go up for sale pretty soon. They were expecting over $30k for some of them. Impressive.

Finally they showed us their yearling colts. They warned us that the colts are a little more feisty than the fillies. I should have listened. As I petted one of them, it snapped around and bit me on the wrist. Irritated, I grabbed the horses halter and got ready to yank it back down to my level. Then I realized that this horse could be worth over $30k. I let go, backed away from the fence, and apologized. They laughed it off, apparently it's a pretty common occurrence.

They also talked about their prize horse, Enumclaw Girl. Enumclaw Girl is a 3 year old filly that they weren't able to convince anyone to buy as a yearling, so they decided to race her. She had a rather unassuming pedigree, although if you go back 7 generations she's descended from War Admiral. She's had 5 starts, won 3 of them, came in 2nd in another, and 3rd in the last. She's already earned them over $82k. Pretty nice.

We headed over to Emerald Downs to watch the races for the day. They didn't have any horses that they owned racing, but there was one horse they had bred, CatSilverandGrey, in the 2nd race. Cat hadn't done too well thus far, but they placed a bet on her just for the hell of it, and she came in third.

We watched a few races, and decided to hop down to the ground level to watch some of the races in the grandstands. Mom displayed an uncanny ability at this point. We walked down to the paddock to watch the horses being saddled. Mom considered them, and said, number 9 is going to win. Dad placed a bet on number 9. Number 9 won. Next race, number 7 is going to win, placed bet, 7 won. next race, number 8 is going to win, placed a bet on number 8, 8 won. That last race was the most interesting. I had a $1 8 to 7 Exacta bet on it. Coming around the stretch, number 8 was in the lead with number 7 closing fast on his tail. As they passed us, it seemed that number 7 had taken the lead, screwing me out of my bet. They cross the finish line, and declare a photo finish, meaning that it would require some time to verify. I gnawed on my lip as the time seemed to stretch off into eternity. Finally, the results came back, 8 had staved off 7, who finished in second. I won! I was ecstatic. Then the exacta results came out. I won a whopping $6.90... Most exciting $6.90 in my life.

We watched a couple of more races, and we decided to leave after the ninth race. I decided to place one final bet. After helping my aunt with a bet, I placed a $2 bet on Way Too Much to win the ninth race. When I came back, my aunt asked me why I chose to bet on that particular horse. Doris, the old lady who's been around horse racing longer than I've been alive caught me before I could answer.

"He's not betting on the horse, he's betting on the jockey."

Perceptive woman. It's true, Seth Martinez had won 5 races already today, and he was riding on Way Too Much for his last appearance today. Way Too Much won by two lengths. Hot damn.

While I didn't win a whole lot of money, I did have a great time. I hope to go back soon.

A Flash Full of Wing Wong.

I woke up on Saturday morning with what seems to be the beginning of a sinus infection. Well, shit. However, my friend Mike had a "surprise" birthday party, and it was my job to get burgers to the barbecue, and I'd be damned if I would let there be a barbecue without burgers. That's just unamerican. Salt water gargles do miracles for cleaning up the throat.

So off I go to Fred Meyers, to purchase 34 burgers and 32 buns. Stupid packaging disparity. I rolled up to the house, and dropped off the food with Sarah, and we got the party preparations set. There was pizza, chips, hot dogs, hamburgers, dirt cups, beer, and lots of other good stuff.

When Mike arrived, the festivities started in earnest. Thanks to the decent weather, we set up shop outside. I played a game of outdoor beer pong. It's a whole different animal outdoors, accounting for windage wreaked havoc on everyone's shots. Fortunately, I'm used to dealing with windage, so I played pretty well. We got the grill fired up, and soon the scent of formerly frozen beef patties crackling over a charcoal flame wafted throughout the yard. I put together a nice cheeseburger, with colby jack, lettuce, horseradish sauce, mustard and ketchup. Delicious.

Nick had brought over his full Rock Band setup, drums, bass, guitar, and mike. Everyone had snapped up the instruments, and as soon as I walked in, I got pegged with the vocals. I made it through the songs I knew pretty well, In Bloom, The Hand That Feeds, Creep, all went well. The songs I didn't know... Not so much.

Andy unveiled his new toy. A 3 foot long blow gun. We had a field day with that one. We shot pretty much everything we could spare, and even popped each other with the blunt tipped slugs. It was fun, in a sadistic sort of way.

Forrest Gump came on TNT. I love that movie, and believe that it is possibly the best movie of our generation. There's so much innuendo that I never picked up the first time I saw it.

After some of the party drew to a close, we headed over to watch the acapella show. The ladies of UO opened, and were pretty damn good. The Divines, the OSU womens group, went on next. As much as it pains me to say it, I think the Ducks did a better job. Outspoken, the OSU mens group came up, and did an excellent job. acapella shows, by their nature, are a little campy, but Outspoken embraced it. Their rendition of Life is a Highway was superb, marred only by the feed cord accidentally being pulled from the mike, making it sound like someone had been shot.

After the show ended, Mike came up with a crazy idea. It was 11PM, and we were going to a hot spring. Serena rolled in with her mom's minivan, we piled the eight of us in, and we were off before we really understood what happened. Half of us didn't have bathing suits, and shamed the other half into ditching theirs. It was pretty dark out, starlight only, so we really didn't see anything. But hey, skinny dipping in a sulfur hot spring is always fun. We passed around a bottle of cheap red wine, and played the stupid games that inevitably happen when you mix nudity, alcohol, and steam. Truth or Dare, yippee. Fortunately, things didn't get too inappropriate or uncomfortable. We played two rounds, and I picked truth once, and dare once. For truth, I got asked if I ever wished I was shorter. I certainly wish I had a more standardized body type when it comes to buying clothes. And for a dare, I was challenged to hop into the spring above us, which was much hotter, and occupied by a couple that was getting a little *ahem* friendly. Good for them, I just hope that the sulfur killed off anything that got released.

As we were trying to get back to the bench from the spring, Serena turned around with Mike's camera, and FLASH. Well, there goes my modesty. Thank God for my Brazilian side. On the ride back, we discretely checked which pictures were appropriate, and which weren't, and deleted the one's that didn't spare someones dignity. The others were kept for posterity, and no, they will not be posted here.

Mike drove us home, and the rest of us slept in the most uncomfortable positions possible, we made it back in town just before five AM, and began the frantic race against time to get everyone back to their homes, and more importantly, beds, before the sun rose, and screwed up any chance at sleep. It was so worth it.

Salsa, Hockey, and the birth of an alcoholic.

Well, it's been a fairly eventful week for me.

Monday was Cinco de Mayo, as you know. I had a fun night of mexican food and Dos Equis out at the bars. However, I spilled some of my Jose Cuervo onto my modem, and knocked it out of commission for several days.

On Wednesday, I got a replacement modem, and went out with some friends to the Salsa Dance at Oddfellows hall. I wore my Boondock Saints T shirt. It was a hit. Almost too big of a hit. I felt like a manikin, simply the vessel upon which the shirt was mounted. It peaked when Tara dragged me out onto the dance floor, exclaiming "I must dance with that shirt!" Jeez. I'm up here, stop staring at my chest ladies! :)

Then on Friday, we had the usual Latin X night festivities. We started out at McMenamin's. It's usually not that crowded around 7:30, So when we showed up, we found ourselves in the irritating position of having every table being occupied by one or two people, so we couldn't get a table. Faced with the choice between eating outside or not getting seated for an hour, we got the tables outside. Thankfully, the weather was good. In the end, it was a good think. We were expecting 8-10 people, we wound up with 15. Sweet, yet potentially problematic. but being able to expand to other outdoor tables fixed the problem.

Once we went down to Platinum, it was the same old story. There was alcohol, dancing, music, and fun. Tori said she was going to whip me at pool. But she failed to show up. Guess I win by default.

I just have one question. Why do women insist on wearing shoes that tear up their feet? Is that extra inch really worth the blisters and mangled toes? And if you're going to, why can't you put some moleskin on beforehand?

Saturday night, one of my friends from bravo company turned 21. So I escorted his drunken parade throughout the bars. We spent the bulk of our time at Clods. I had a Vodka and Tonic. Being a bit of a jerk, I ordered him a cement mixer. Being a much bigger jerk than me, Chuck got Joe a British Liposuction. The British Liposuction is the worst drink I've ever encountered. It consists of a shot that's one part gin, one part Worcestershire sauce, and one part lard. Yes, lard. Joe took that shot, then puked it back into his shot glass, and booked it to the bathroom. I didn't see him for about 20 minutes after that. Afterwards, he came back, looking a few pounds lighter, and downed my cement mixer, and enjoyed it. That's how bad the shot Chuck got him was.

After we got sick of drunken frat boys and country music, Joe wanted to go to Tailgaters, where we would have to deal with drunken frat boys and rap music. I convinced him to go to McMenamin's on Monroe so we could play pool. Unfortunately, there was a line for the pool table, so we headed out. Some random guy bought joe a shot before we left. No clue who he was.

So we were off to Tailgaters. You could hear the bass from outside. Rap Music... Check. Our party had dwindled down to three people, Joe, myself, and one of Joe's friends, a former Army supply tech. The parade of CAC cards to the doorman. Yippee. We put down for the next pool table, and ordered some drinks. When I went over to the bar, this guy looks over at me. "Wow, you're really tall!". Yeah, he was truly a marvel of observation. I got some change to pay for the pool table and headed back to the table. "Look how tall that guy is!" Captain Obvious strikes again! Three fights broke out while we were there, all promptly crushed by the bouncers. Pretty rough considering there was fewer than 30 people there. Drunken frat boys... check. Whatever.

I brought the quarters over, and we played a game of cutthroat. I was playing pretty well, and got the other two down to 1 ball each, while I still had 4 active. Suddenly, Joe, who had hit a scratch on nearly every ball, knocked down 3 balls on one shot. Unfortunately, they were the 12, the 14, and the 15. All I was left with was the 11. I promptly eliminated Joe, but Joe's buddy knocked me off.

The Supply Tech decided to bolt afterwards, but Joe wanted to stay until closing, and I had promised Neil I'd get him home in one piece. so Joe and I played another game of pool, and I soundly crushed him. I've gotten a little better with practice. With 45 minutes left to kill, I decided to go watch the few girls who were left dancing. One of them waved at me, so I called her over. Feeling in a generous mood, I tried to set Joe up with her. I wanted to get her to go dance with Joe, but instead she simply offered to buy him an expensive drink if I'd buy her a cheap drink and dance with her. But I didn't want to leave Joe high and dry on his birthday. It's kind of awkward getting a girl who's hitting on you to go hit on your friend. But Captain Obvious came to scuttle that problem. He started hitting on her, not letting either of us get a word in edgewise. Finally, she looked a little squeamish, and I gave him a glare. He looks back at the girl. "What, are you dating him?" And proceeded to start to interrogate her about our relationship. After about 15 seconds of that, I got sick of him. I got his attention for a sec, "Shut the fuck up, go away, and let me talk to her!" I didn't push it any farther, because I knew the bouncers were on edge, and would have bum rushed me the moment I stood up. Fortunately, Captain Obvious seemed to get the message, and bailed out. Unfortunately, the girl's friend saw her in between a 6'5" guy, and a 6'8" guy yelling at him. She promptly swooped in and took her to the other side of the room, exclaiming, "She has a boyfriend!" That could have ended better. This is why I hate lingering at bars around closing time, the dominance games are so damn annoying, especially when you don't really want to play.

Joe decided to head home. On the way out, I ran into the girl again. She apologized for her friend, and explained that her friend thought I was getting too aggressive, but she knew what had happened. She asked where I was heading. "Home, I've got better booze there." She was nice, but I was too far into chaperon mode to try anything with her.

All I had to do was get Joe's drunk ass 6 blocks, to his dorm. No problem, right? Wrong. Things only got more annoying. We got to the corner of Monroe and 14th street, and ran into this anorexic looking asian girl eating a pita. Clearly plastered. "I'm horny, let's have sex!" She said. Joe, being equally trashed, promptly took her up on her offer, and kissed her. She coughed a half chewed wad of tuna pita into Joe's mouth. As this hilarious spectacle is unfolding, I notice her friend. I don't know if he was her boyfriend, or another poor soul bringing home the drunk, but he made a beeline towards Joe. I grabbed him, gently, but with enough presence that he hesitated. Introduced myself, and pretty much asserted control of the situation. just because I don't like dominance games doesn't mean I can't be the Alpha Male when the situation calls for it. Once the situation was defused, we exchanged drunks, and I proceeded to continue taking Joe back to the dorm.

Joe proceeded to the emotional stage of drunkenness. He started talking about his friend back home who got shot during a drug deal that went south. I quickly told him to change the subject. That brought up some memories that I didn't want to deal with right then. Joe promptly chose about the next most depressing topic. One of the Air Force ROTC cadets had committed suicide that week. I know I give the Air Force a lot of flak, but that still sucks. Fortunately, I got him to his dorm before the conversation could go anywhere else. I trudged home, and fell asleep.

The next morning, brought me playoff hockey action. My Flyers took on their in state rivals, the Pittsburgh Penguins. My friend CJ, a Sharks fan, who's far more enthusiastic about hockey than I am, came over. He was still in a funk after the Shark's quadruple overtime loss to the Dallas Stars. I was trying to jump start his love of hockey again. We had some drinks (When I told that girl I had better alcohol at home than at the bar, I wasn't lying). I made CJ a white russian, and myself a caipirinha.

The Flyers went down in a blaze of terrible penalties, and we lost our best defenseman to a puck to the face one minute and seven seconds into the game. Wait until the series comes back to Philly. Things'll be different.

21, 22

Well, I've had one of the more extreme middles of the week. A friend of mine turned 21 on Tuesday, and another friend turned 22 on Wednesday. I got invited to a house party tonight, and another friend is turning 22 on Friday. I don't know if I'm going to be drinking much for a while.

Anyhow, Chantay's 21er kicked off at Clodfelter's, which is Oregon State's mascot pub, more or less. We were gifted with a free pitcher of Broken Halo IPA, which is a great beer. I love a good IPA, but only if I have something to eat along with it. Therein lies the problem. I can't eat food from a place I think of as a bar. I've heard nothing but good things about the food at Clod's, but I always think of it as a bar. Don't ask me why, it's just how I work. So we hung out at Clod's for about an hour. After about 30 minutes, someone dumber an absurd amount of money into the jukebox, and an evil amount of country onto the play list. I've lived in Alabama, Louisiana, and Georgia. I've done my tour of duty in the land of country music. It just irks me now. So, I began lobbying the birthday girl for the party to make an exodus to McMenamin's.

I have a real soft spot for McMenamin's. I love the atmosphere, their beer is like ambrosia, and the music is much, much better. We occupied a table upstairs, and placed a few orders. I ordered a pint of Porter, and an order of tots. I think of McMenamin's as an eatery with good drinks, so I can have food there. While we were waiting, Jimmy and I went downstairs to get a set of pool balls. We got down to the bar, and the bartender informed me that the pool balls were all being used, and all she had left were snooker balls. Whatever, we took the snooker balls, and made some bastardized game of pool. They had the rules of snooker posted on the wall by the table, but it looked like one of my textbooks. Maybe someday I'll learn to play, and them me and the other 2 people who know the rules in the western hemisphere can get together and have a game.

Anyways, as we got the game going, Sara, Ariel, and Marcus showed up. They weren't here for Chantay's party, they just felt like coming for happy hour. But it was nice to see them. The snooker game was an unmitigated disaster. There's just enough of a difference between snooker balls and pool balls that it fucks up all your shot. I couldn't sink a ball to save my life, and Jimmy was scratching left and right. The server finally showed up with our food and drinks. But my porter wasn't there. I thought he just had his hands full, and was going to bring it out in the second run. I thought wrong. I played for another few minutes, and forgot about the beer. Until I saw the server bring Sara and Ariel their beers. So I checked back at the table if he had left it with the party. Nope. So I pulled him aside when he walked by the pool table and asked him where it was. He stammered out something about not being able to get it because the bartender was busy. I just stared at him incredulously. I couldn't believe that he had just tried to blame a pint of beer on the bartender. He brought the beer quickly thereafter, but the damage had been done. I finished the Porter, and snaked a pint of Hef from Chuck's pitcher.

The night went on, and we finished off the game. After listening to Kristen complain about how the server wouldn't let her buy another drink until she had finished he cosmo, I decided to buy the birthday girl a shot, So I flag down the server and order a Caipirinha and a chocolate cake shot. The server got a glassy look in his eyes as I tried to explain how to make a caipirinha. Fuck it, I decided, and changed the order to a Vodka Martini. While the server wandered off, I went back downstairs, and returned the snooker balls. While I was down at the bar, I chatted with the bartender for a sec, and saw a nice fresh lime sitting in a bowl on the bar. That's one of the reasons why I love McMenamen's, they've got the freshest ingredients for their drinks. So I ordered a Caipirinha, and walked the bartender through how to make the drink. I took my drink back up to the table, right as the server brought me my martini. I set it down next to my Caipirinha and my pint of Hef. Kristen stared for a sec, then applauded me for "working the system". I had just become a hero of alcoholism in her eyes, and from Kristen, that's a big compliment.

I handed Chantay her Chocolate Cake shot. It came in one of McMenamin's double shot glasses, which are almost an old fashioned glasses, and Chantay immediately insisted that she couldn't drink that, and made me pare it down halfway. The thing about the chocolate cake shot is that with the lemon wedge, it's probably the tastiest thing ever, but without the lemon, it tastes like ass. But it's her birthday, so I choked it down, and immediately chased it with my hef. Chantay knocked back her shot, Bit into her lemon, and declared it delicious. Mission Accomplished! Chantay, and most of the rest of the group decided to migrate back to Clod's. However, Alexa was still waiting on a pizza, and I had a martini and caipirinha still sitting in front of me. So Kristen, Alexa, and I stayed behind for a little while.

True to form, our server had somehow lost Alexa's pizza in the ether somewhere between our table and the kitchen, 200 ft away. So we would up waiting for that order for about 40 minutes. I took a sip of my martini. ugh. Apparently our server cooked up a martini with well vodka, HRD or some other terrible shit. I gulped it down, and immediately proceeded to my caipirinha, which, on the other hand, was amazing. The fresh lime really set it off. While waiting for the pizza, Alexa and I discussed our travels. She's very well traveled, having gone throughout Europe and North Africa. She is also about to get her Light Aircraft licence. She also eventually got her pizza. But it took entirely too long. So we divided up the bill, somehow Jimmy had left the 7 dollar Apple Breeze he had bought Chantay on the bill. So I covered that, I'll make him pay for it later. As we walked back to Clod's to link up with the main body of the group, we discussed the harshest ways to tip bad service. I prefer simply not leaving a tip, rather than spitefully leaving a penny. The server really fucked up. Our group spent about $250, and he earned about $4 in tips. He was that bad.

Back in Clod's Alexa and Chantay successfully lobbied for us to relocate to Tailgater's. Over there, I ran into my friend Steffan, who I hadn't seen in a while, and who was thoroughly trashed. His friend, whom I've never met before, was similarly sloshed, and a little belligerent. He demanded that I slap Steffan. I demurred, but he pressed the issue, and I was pretty drunk at this point, so I hauled off and pimp slapped Steffan's friend. He froze up for a second, then something really weird happened. "Do you want a beer?" he offered. Meh, I'm never one to turn down a free drink. so we went over to the bar. "How about a shot, you drink Jaeger?". What the fuck? Not the reaction I was expecting. I never thought that striking someone would get me two free drinks. Meh, it takes all kinds.

At about 1 AM, the group all drifted home, so I walked back to my apartment. On my way, I passed the outdoor basketball courts by Wilson Hall. There was some guy shooting hoops, on a dark court, in the cold, at 1:15. Odd. I walked over and talked with him a little, he didn't seem crazy. But there's just something about shooting hoops in the dark that just seems so... unwholesome. I picked up the ball from one of his errant shots, dunked it, and went home to sleep.

The next night, Laurel had invited me to her 22nd birthday party. I ran up a pretty big tab at Chantay's party, and I was feeling a little nostalgic, so I made some Leite de Onça, botted it up, and went off to Clod's. Laurel's party was much less extreme that Chantay's. Incidently, Chantay was there, and drinking. I was amazed, after my 21st birthday, I didn't want to drink for a week. Chantay was back on the horse in 18 hours. The girl's a trooper. I bought Laurel a choclate cake shot at Chantay's recomendation, and Laurel wimped out of half the shot in the same way, except she made someone else drink it. Thank God. I had made 650 cc of Leite de Onça, and had forgotten how strong that stuff is. I really don't remember a whole lot of the specifics of the night, and staggered home at midnight. But it was a lot of fun.