Ping Pong Bowling

I'm a master of basement games.

I have not clue why that last pin stayed up.




Now they just quake in fear at the sheer sight of me.








Kevin: 1
Cans: 0

Nice Try God(s)

Recently the forces of nature have been trying to keep my spirits down. Nothing too serious. Just some interesting turns of events.

The first is my attempt to stimulate the Costa Rican economy. This was not entirely a consensual agreement between me and that country. I did in fact try to reinvigorate their economic system with the purchasing Costa Rican cervezas in quantities that would give an iron gut some shits that resemble hot brown yogurt. I didn't agree to the 8 store shopping spree though.

As far as I know, I somehow dropped my Health Savings Account debit card. I make this assumption with the above stated knowledge of economic stimulation (read: I was drunk for quite a while and with intense regularity). I checked around the stores that I thought I could have dropped it but to no avail. Being a purpose driven individual (read: likes to laugh) I decided to not worry about it until I got back to [The] America and just enjoy the trip. Upon my return to work I called in the lost card.

Me: I want to report my card as stolen.

Credit Card Lady: Ok, when was your last transaction.

Me: A couple months ago

CC Lady: Well it looks like somebody has been using your card in Costa Rica.

The lady then rambles off the list of 8 vendors that had been visited in this Keev sponsored shopping spree (You're welcome Costa Rica if you are reading).

The list reads something like this: Mr. Latte, Tienda Sole, Gasolinera, Maxibobega, TCBY, Bahia Surf Sk8, Payless Shoe and Pali Santa Cruz for a grand total of $1,400 spend on January 2nd.

The "good" news is that this is a HSA card which is more or less a debit card. So instead of going $1,400 into debt, I've just lost the money I already had for medical and in turn will just not be able to get as sick in the coming year. Cheers to good health mates!

I don't blame the person going on the shopping spree for his or her actions. They were probably from Nosara where it is quite poor, but where the poor is surrounded by [The] Americans with money. He/she decided to live the life for a day. More power to him/her.

...but Payless Shoes?! WTF?! It's a STOLEN card. You might as well pick up a pair of Snoop Dogg NowAndLater gators. I guess everyone is feeling the recession.


The other force of nature that has been trying to bring me down is my epidermis's total disrespect for the race I'm going to take part in down in Phoenix.

I went to a local MMA show in Billings this last weekend. Once again I saw a bunch of the dudes that I rolled with back when I was still doing BJJ (also a girl fight which was awesome w00t!). After the fight I went and congratulated a friend that won a fight via triangle against a dude that out weighed him by 10 lbs at the weigh-ins and had a 18-3 record out of Minnesota.

Me: Sweet fight dude! Whooped some ass again.

Z: Thanks! Why do I always see you at the fights but never training with us.

Me: I'm only around on the weekends.

Z: Let's roll tomorrow at 2pm.

Me: Word

So the next day I threw in my mouth guard and did some rolling with him. It was great. I'm a bit bigger than him but we roll with similar styles and we are about equal on the bjj skillz. He tapped me out just in time to see another kid show up at the gym to return some mats he had borrowed. This kid is 15 years old and really knows how to tap bitches out.

The kid threw on a some gi pants and then started to make me look like his bitch. He tapped me out five times in a row. Not only that, but he used the same move each time too. He would push me around a bit until I turtled up and then he would steal and arm. If I was slow to protect it, he would armbar the crap out of me. If I protected it, he would bicept-crush me en route to victory. All of this would happen while I burned off the layer of my feet with mat burns.

Mat burns typically aren't really a problem unless you have a 1/2 marathon to run in the following week...which I did. Even with full bandages that little high schooler was able to turn my feet into a mess that only 13.1 miles can make you appreciate. I finished in 1hr 52min and successfully beat you-know-who that was doing it on a treadcheater (if the link doesn't work, my brother may be unemployed again).


I have no clue where this post was going. I started writing it weeks ago and can't really remember the theme I was going for. I also don't really care. I just don't want it sitting as a draft until I'm old.

So with no further hesitation, I give you the most obvious book title ever conceived:

It Really Works

There are a lot of things on the internet that I consider to be of very little human value: lolcatz, comment sections of virtually all blogs with over 100,000 readers a year (fear not, I just broke the 2,000 mark), any site with the word "free" associated with it and craigslist's personals section.

My beliefs were proven wrong though...

Remember my most recent night of fornicating football fumblings? Come on, you remember the one.....

Well to the best of my recollection, Remington had yelled back at me as she was running out the bar door the last time I saw her.

Rem: Find me on craigslist!

I didn't remember this when I first woke up in the morning (too busy trying to rectify bad decisions made the night before). I think it was on the drive home that I was able to piece that little tidbit back together.

At first it seemed a bit silly, but I went back to the old adage that I've been preaching about "letting go" of the thoughts that we hold so sacredly. I must commit to learning from the past, enjoying the present for what it is and being totally open to the infinite possibilities of an unknown future.

So I posted a missed connection (paraphrased):

Sean Kelly's miss...Male 27
You said that you didn't do one night stands, so maybe we could try to make it a 2 or 3 night ordeal. Get a hold of me if you want to give it a try.

And now I play the waiting game!

Luckily for me that game was a short one, because within a week I get this in my inbox:

Hey, I think I am the girl you're looking for from Sean Kelly's. You were with a big group of guys hanging at the end of the bar. I think you said you were from Billings? Were you the one with the long blonde hair? I think I put my head under your shirt?? Is any of this sounding familiar? I was the tall blonde with a thing for chest hair? If this is you..........SO HOT! Get back to me and let me know!
xoxo-[Remington]

SO HOT right now! w00t!

This is the part of the blog that you as the reader probably think I'm going to break off into some sweet Hustler Forum-esque type rant about how my dick has been staying wet since that day. Not the case. I've actually been quite unsuccessful at minimizing the geographical distance between the two of us. I just really wanted to share this little bit of info with you, so that the next time you talk down upon the [The] America's favorite classified ads you realize it works. It really does work.




Oh ya, this is also a preface to a sweet Hustler Forum-esque type rant about how my dick has been staying quite wet...

Subarific

In an attempt to prove that Subarus are re-cock-ulously cool, I present to you:

http://video.kenblockracing.com/flash/small_player/preloader.swf?vendor_id=204&media_id=9183&bgcolor=FFFFFF&autoplay=0

Needless to say after watching this video I presumed that I too was a badass racecar driver (a sentiment that I still hold onto dearly). I went up into the woods on my Wednesday lunch break, took my naked pic for the week and then proceeded to keep my car in a sideways drift for the better part of 30 minutes. I also decided it would be a GREAT idea to drop down into a campsite that hadn't been plowed for some off-roading rally driving....

Oops...

Just a touch high-centered.

After the dude in the picture couldn't pull me out with 4WD and a chain, I was forced to drop $165 for a tow truck to winch me out. Small price to pay in my continuing education to become a sponsored rally driver. I've said it all along: The "real" workforce is for suckers.

Good/Bad Advice? You Be The Judge...

"Hey, it's [Male Nurse]. I got an idea today that words can't explain how dope it is. It would take a little commitment, some serious balls, add a pinch of crazy and you've got [Male Nurse] and [Keev] taking ballet lessons. Aka teeny bopper secret headquarters lair. With campground rules in effect, we would be investing heavily in today and tomorrow. Talk about networking-those girls would love us and never forget us. Not to mention some serious legit ninja training. Rolling to a ballet lesson with just the right amount of ninja medicine on board sounds like a shit eating grin to me. I also have some serious connections in the [Bil-town] scene by way of a high school girlfriend who thinks I'm cool and knows instructors on a serious personal level.
Dear Diary, ALLRIIIGHT!"

That is easily the hardest I've ever laughed from one text.

I've never really applied my Tsaoist beliefs to such a funny/awesome/crazy idea. Anyone have any thoughts on how I should approach this?

I Could Fuck Up A Wet Dream

Although I love to brag about my sexual conquests (of which there are a few of the monumental variety), I have had many, many more failed attempts to mount, summit or penetrate objects of my sexual desire. This weekend was no different. I was poon party pwn3d!

What I'm not trying to say is that my weekend was somehow not a great time. It was, in fact, quite awesome. We snuck into the Cat-Griz game (35-3 Griz...w00t) by buying a few scalped tickets and then doing the pass the stub, lick your hand and smudge the stamp. It was reminiscent of being young and drunk while committing acts of random tomfoolery. Mostly because we are still young, were quite drunk and our shenanigans were verging on tomfoolery.

We finished the Griz game at the Holiday Inn bar and then stuck around for some more drinks and "Missoula's best bratwurst", which was in fact the best bratwurst I have ever eaten. Laughter ensued and we were ready to go out and hit the town. It started out at Debbie Downer's Cat House of Horror due to the fact that that is where the weed brownies were. Normally I would have steered clear of the place because of the asthmatic response to the environment and the general depression that hangs in the wallpaper, but the sound of THC via delicious snacks was just a bit too appealing. People were hesitant at first to dive in, but after I showed them that "I'm fine" after eating about 5, people started to come around.

We had a few beers and then made our way to Sean Kelly's. Not terribly exciting at first. Good friends and the booze was running downhill (read: down asophagus). As I was standing around chatting I noticed that a very cute blond had passed by a few times (I had also noticed any individual with a vagina within 50 feet of me). She eyed me a few times, but I didn't think much of it. I was dressed in my typical bear-suit jacket and that tends to draw eyeballs towards me. She then approached me and we started chatting.

Remington (Not spelled like the gun. Spelled like her name.): I don't even know why I came over here to talk to you.

Me: Because you saw my manly beard and couldn't help yourself.

Rem: It is pretty nice.

Me: If you think it's nice on the eyes, you should try it on your neck.

I then proceeded to rub my beard up one side of her neck, down across the bottom and then up the other side where I finished off with a nice little earlobe bite and a giggle of pleasure on her behalf.

Rem: That IS good!

Me: You really ought to test out the chest carpet as well...

I hold the bottom of my shirt up and she races her head inside and begins to rub her cheeks against my chest.

Rem: I've never had a one night stand before....yet...

Thank science we were in a dark bar, because my Griz colored sweatpants were doing NOTHING to hide my hardon at that point.

This carried on for a while before a group of Rem's friend went walking out of the bar and she took off to join them.

"Keev gets the ball and rushes for 20 yards! Oh no! Looks like he fumbled it! He won't be scoring tonight!"

I wasn't about ready to let my elevated excitement/hormone levels go to waste.

Me (to the group of peeps with whom I was rollin): Let's go get our groove on!

There was a one man band playing at the bar that night. Fingers was the name. He had a bass drum and a high-hat for his feet, a guitar (sometimes accordion) in his hands, harmonica around his neck and a cowboy hat to top it all off. In short, this guy was the shit. He rocked all of the greats: Ring of Fire, Country Roads, you name it...

About halfway through his set he announced to the crowd "I'm going to need a couple people to come play the washboards for me." He then holds out two chest mounted washboards and four spoons to the crowd. Male Nurse and I were ready to get funky with it.


Fingers: What are your names?

Male Nurse: Rough Rider

Me: Dick Danger

Fingers: Are we making music or a gay porn?

We proceed to rock the shit out of those washboards. We were doing the "chicka chicka", the "chicka tap chicka tap" and the "tap tap chicka tap". It didn't matter. We were on fire!

After our song he gave a few other teams a chance to shine on the washboards. Maybe it was the alcohol talking (read: it was the alcohol talking), but I think we took them to the cleaners when it comes to rocking the washboard (pun). Seemed like I wasn't the only person that felt that way.

Fingers: Dick Danger and Rough Rider, get back up here and help me with the final song!

Male Nurse and I jumped back up on stage with the determination of washed up cokehead ex-rockers that were ready to melt the panties off of their dwindling groups of groupies.

Fingers (to the two of us): Whenever I stop playing in the song, that is your guys' queue to solo on the washboards.

Me: WORD!

(song begins)
Strum, strum, strummy strum...

CHICK-A-CHICKITTY-CHICK-CHICK-TAP-CHICKA-BANG...

Strum, strum, strummy strum, strum, strum, strummy strum...

CHICKITTY-CHICKITTY-TAP-TAP-BANG...

I've done a bit of crowd amusing on the guitar via dirty drinking songs, but I think this was my most golden moment. I was having more fun than a teen with a handgun.

(song begins to crescendo to a train-wreck ending where everyone just goes nuts)

I had noticed that I in fact had two quasi-groupy girls dancing right below me at the stage, and they were watching me get down with the funky sound. So right as the song started into the trainwreck, I handed each of them a spoon, removed my chest mounted washboard, arranged it as a hip mounted washboard and let the two chicks wail away the final chickitty-chick-chick's as I sat back and enjoyed the rhythmic pleasure that one can only experience by beating a metal spoon across a wavy piece of sheet metal placed directly upon your balls.

...I need to become a rockstar. SOON.

The bar lights came on in that "hey you are drunk, it's late, go home" kind of way, and we all started heading towards the door. Then one of my two groupies came up to me.

Groupy: OMG! You are the sexiest/best washboard player I've ever seen!

I actually have no idea as to what she really said. I do remember, however, that she had a very nice smile.

...and HUGE boobs. I mean REALLY HUGE. Not the type of huge that goes all crazy, but instead the largest set of boobs that are still attractive that I've ever seen. To be quite honest I'm not even sure if she walked up to me or if those things had so much mass that the gravitational pull from them lured me directly towards her.

I could make up the rest of the conversation between the two of us or just tell the truth. I think I'll opt for the tsaoist truth: I kept hugging her in an attempt to push those things agaisnt me as many times as possible (stranger hugs: the purest form of self proclaimed frotteurism known to man). It was fan-fucking-tastic! And then the Keev-ball announcer came back on the PA...

"Keev recovers from his previous turnover and has great field position. He's marching up the field and I've got to tell you folks, looks like he may drive this one into the endzo....OH NO!!! ANOTHER FUMBLE!"

Well at least I got some boobs pressed into my abdomen. DAMN NASA!

We all decided it was time to get some food. And by that, I mean that I was ready to get down on some naughty girls, but my fumbling ability left me high and dry (and boy was I still high). I followed the team around for a while from one line into a late night food joint to the next. All the while an un-named cougar was latching onto my arm, butt, etc. These are all bad things for good decision making when I'm hopped up on the hormones.

Brain: Fuck this! I'm ready for bedtim...

Dick: Were gettin LAID FTW! w00t!

(Time travel to the moment my eyes open the next morning. Scene: Debbie Downer's bed in the Cat House of Horrors.)

Brain: We got laid FTL...Dick!

Debbie Downer: Let's have sex again.

Me: Let's not...

What A Junkie...