The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.
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    The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    Add Buddy A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999.... Reply

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    and the early morning hours of Sunday, December 5,
    1999:

    6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at
    full-freaking blast
    6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels
    7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time
    of the morning)
    8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)
    8:53 Crack open second beer
    8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)
    10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign
    scorecard for smoooooth 95
    10:35 Headed for San Antonio
    10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game
    festivities
    11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we
    double-back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750
    ml plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam
    11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not
    a single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees.
    11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the **** out
    of Nebraska.
    11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go f(*&
    himself.
    12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the
    Alamodome. We're on the second floor of a two-story
    parking garage on the corner (a couple hundred of us).
    We're hooting and hollering like wildmen. The band
    doubles back to the street right below us and
    serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas.
    AWESOME MOMENT.
    12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown
    men are bumping chests with one another, each and
    every one of them now secure and certain of the fact
    that we are going to kick the *(&^ out of Nebraska.
    1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the
    Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen.
    Again, the band doubles back and stops right below us
    to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska
    fight songs. Although somewhat impressed by their
    spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are
    going to kick the s&!* out of Nebraska.
    1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow
    managing to stuff the "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer
    into my pants.
    1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They
    are taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain
    that we are going to kick the s*(& out of Nebraska. I
    decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan
    to play what I now call and will forever be remembered
    as "Cell-Phone Flop Out." Remember flop out for a
    dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska
    ******* that if he's so confident in his team, he
    should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make
    plane reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl.
    And then I spoke these memorable words: "And not
    those
    damn refundable tickets, either! You request those
    non-refundable, non-transferrable sons-of-*******!"
    He backs down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest
    Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix,
    non-refundable
    and non-transferrable. Price: $712. He is humbled.
    He lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell phone in
    triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans. I am
    KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11
    beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the
    pre-game kingdom.
    2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the
    Traveler and pour my first stiffy.
    2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big.
    Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very ****** off at
    Texas.
    3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards
    total offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas.
    I'm still talking s(*&. I pour another stiffy from
    the Traveler.
    3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the
    Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my first $5 beer
    from the Alamodome merchants. While I am standing in
    line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major
    Applewhite
    and rolls out of the end zone. Safety.
    3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I
    had another Traveler.
    4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the
    bathroom at halftime, I attempt to revive the classic
    Brice-ism from the South Bend bathroom: "Hey, buddy,
    niiiiiiiiice ****." He is unamused.
    4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome
    merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls
    sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they are equipped
    with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to
    purchase $5 Sprites, so that we may consume their
    vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch of
    pu&&&^.
    4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have
    fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers
    from the Alamodome merchants.
    5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning
    to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I
    am too drunk to see the football field.
    5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir.
    Those tickets have been confirmed and are
    non-refundable and non-transferrable."
    5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind
    the concession counter. As it turns out, the
    Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when
    there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am
    enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the f()*
    didn't you announce last call over the ******* PA
    system??!!"
    5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in
    defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes
    absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter, awaking from
    my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the
    answer is no, we were not winning and we did not
    score.
    The largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas
    faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back
    to the tunnel and Bevo stopped to take a gargantuan
    **** all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the
    "Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer
    wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick
    my tongue in it. I am thirsty.
    6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back
    to the truck. I would taunt them with some off-color
    remarks about their parentage, but I am too drunk to
    form complete sentences. With my last cognitive
    thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that
    if we had not beaten them in October, they would be
    playing Florida State for the national championship.
    6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for
    the 8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage
    the day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't
    care.
    7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go
    inside the store. I walk past the beer frig. I
    notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if
    it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist
    the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows.
    Zima
    sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the frig.
    7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to
    where the ingredients are, where the person usually
    makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over
    the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black
    olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean
    further over the counter and grab approximately two
    pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store
    grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the
    store fear me. I don't care.
    8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking
    warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over
    an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my singing. He
    suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written
    other good songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When
    I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that maybe listening to
    only those two songs, ten times each was a bit
    excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the
    CD play on its own. I tell him to **** off and
    restart "Neon Moon."
    8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate,
    against my loud and profane protestations, parks on
    the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him
    he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I
    tell him we may as well pitch a f(*&^%$ tent here. He
    ignores me. I think he's still ****** about the
    Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly.
    8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in
    my pants. We're going to kick the **** out of
    Arizona.
    9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am
    pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th
    time today. I giggle to myself because of the
    new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There are
    no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed.
    I tell myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice
    ****." No one is amused but me.
    9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light
    out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer
    at the Erwin Center, much less Bud Light out of a can.
    I am stopped by an usher: "Where did you get
    that, sir?" I tell him (no s*&^): "Oh, the
    cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little
    plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away
    for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He
    is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but
    I run away giggling instead. I duck into some
    entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me.
    I sneak into a large group of people and sit down.
    The
    usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little
    girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light.
    9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I
    have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I
    cannot find my seats. Texas is losing.
    10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am
    enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me
    because I keep removing my hat and beating the
    surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if
    I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously.
    I tell him to f(*& off.
    10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst f*(&^%$
    call I have EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat
    again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on
    this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in
    my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch gash over
    my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all
    over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, "I'm
    taking this a bit seriously."
    10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so
    drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody
    napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody.
    I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my
    waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops.
    10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt
    back on my body and make my way for the exits. I am
    stopped every 20 seconds by a good
    samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am
    covered in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and
    keep moving.
    10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the
    parking garage. I walk up six flights of stairs,
    promise that when I see my friend I will punch him
    in the face for making me walk up six flights of
    stairs, find the truck, and collapse in a heap in the
    bed of the truck. I look around and notice that
    traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six
    whole flights, and no one is moving. I take a nap.
    11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the
    driver's seat. I lift my head to look out the bed of
    the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the
    way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one
    is
    moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my
    friend a "Stupid coc(*&^%$#r."
    11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck
    and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around
    the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving.
    I call my friend a "Stupid coc*&^%$#r."
    11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck
    and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around
    the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving.
    I call my friend a "Stupid coc*&^%$#r."
    11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck
    and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around
    the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving.
    I call my friend a "Stupid coc&^%$#$%."
    11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my
    head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that
    traffic is beginning to move on the second floor. I
    jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the parking
    facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street
    below. My friend looks at me like I just anally
    violated his minor sister. I turn around and pee
    on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics
    to "Neon Moon."
    12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump
    from the truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until
    someone gives me two beers. I am happy. I return to
    my vehicle.
    12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We
    make our way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on
    the couch with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on
    the coffee table in front of him. We are all going to
    die tonight.
    12:59 We have finished three-quarters of the bottle
    of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea
    to go dancing at PollyEsther's. Ed has to pee. He
    walks down the hall to our apartment and directly into
    the full length mirror at the end of the hall,
    smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle
    uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther's.
    1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably
    at our efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says
    in between his fits of spastic laughter, "I've been
    working this door for almost a year. I've been
    working
    doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can
    honestly say that I ain't never seen three drunker
    mother fu&^%$# than you three. Sorry, can't let you
    in." We attempt to reason with him. He laughs
    harder.
    1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two
    steps in the door and hear "Last call for alcohol!" I
    turn to the group and mutter: "See, dat wasn't that
    fu^%$#' hard. Day don't fu^&%$' do that at the
    Awamo...the awaom...the alab...f&^% it, that stadium
    we
    was at today..." We order 6 shots of tequila and
    three beers.
    2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail a
    cab to take us the two and one half blocks to Katz's.
    The cab fare is $1.60. We give him $10 and tell him
    to keep it.
    2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess
    $50. We are seated immediately.
    2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb
    salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry
    blintzes, two Reuben sandwiches, a hamburger, two
    cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an
    order of onion rings.
    2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our
    heads on the table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat
    every fu&*&*& bit of our food. Most of the restaurant
    patrons around us are disgusted. We don't give a
    ****.
    The tab is $112 with tip.
    2:46 I'm sleepy.
    9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is the
    bartender at Katz's. She is not pretty.
    HOOK 'EM HORNS, BABY!!! Out--



  2. #2
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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    best.story.ever



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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    I can't believe there wasn't an arrest in there. AND the story was remembered.




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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    Now that was funny...


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  5. #5
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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    Wow! I don't even care if that's true or not. That is the funniest thing I've read in awhile. My guess is no person could ever make that up so its probably true.


    @RandomGeoFacts

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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    **** why did nebraska have to win


    Husker Hater

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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    That just made me laugh out loud in training for my new job... thanks a lot jerk. :)



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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    Wow.

    The stars at night are big and bright deep in the heart of Texas eh?


    Freak'n hilarious


    Oh we will fight, fight, fight for Iowa State,
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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    I felt drunk reading that...



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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    that sounds oddly familiar to my experience at the Houston Bowl a fews years back on New Year's Eve-longest night ever as I have a hangover thinking about it.



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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    STill laughing about this today.


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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    That actually may be the funniest post ever.



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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    Classic!



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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    is it bad if that story brings back similar memories?


    Husker Hater

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    Re: The Annual Texas post. Funniest post ever.

    Classic! I don't know what the funniest part was, maybe telling himself that he had a nice ****!



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