Mardi Gras, By the Numbers

I certainly didn't want to wait over a week to get out my second post (how dare I leave all four of my fans waiting), but this past weekend has left me in a malaise of drunken regrets and legitimate sickness. Only now do I feel the strength to post on my two and a half days spent in St. Louis for Mardi Gras and the Super Bowl.

First a word on the Super Bowl: Balki didn't let me down. The Giants beat the Patriots as preordained a week ago. I just wish I hadn't put 5G's on New York winning by over 100.

Now on to Mardi Gras: To give you a recap of events that transpired would most likely be boring and inaccurate (my memory gets hazy around 10pm Friday). So I will just give you a break down on the stats I truly remember:

Cigarettes smoked: Billions*
Alcoholic drinks consumed: Millions*
Beads procured and later discarded: Hundreds*
Parties attended without invite: 3
Girls kissed: 2 (Girls willingly kissed: 1)
Pickpockets thwarted: 1**
Boobies seen: 0***

*Estimations

**This is a pretty cool story: I was wandering around St. Louis, trailing my friends by a few yards, when I felt a hand reach down my back pocket grabbing for my wallet. At this moment I was very drunk, and even when I'm sober my reflexes are suspect at best, but I managed to shoot my hand back and grab on to the pickpockets wrist. He instantly started to apologize, and I realized he was an Irishman. And a small one at that. This tiny fucking Leprechaun was trying to lift my wallet (or "steal my gold" if you will). Here is the conversation that occurred between me and Thievie McStickyfingers:

Thievie: Sorry Man. I'm real drunk. Just playin' around.

Me: Well, that's not cool. (clever, I know--you can borrow it)

Thievie: I know. I know.

Me: Do you need money or something?

Thievie: What? Nah, man...I got plenty. (At this point, Thievie pulls out a large wad of mangled bills from his pocket) See?

Me: Well...I think you should give me some.

Thievie: Wha?

Me: Your money...give me some money.

Thievie: A dollar? (He tentatively holds out a crumpled bill)

Me: (not pushing my luck) That will be fine.

And therein lies the tale of how I made money off a pickpocket.

***No boobies at all? Ladies, what up? I know its a bit cold outside and its kind of degrading, but its Mardi Gras. Man up.

Predicting the Superbowl: Mypos Style

As a child, I remember loving the show “Perfect Strangers.” When people bring up the show about the naïve sheep herder from a distant land and his frustrated cousin, I always chime in, declaring my adoration for Balki, Cousin Larry, et al.

The show ran for 150 episodes over the course of eight seasons during much of my formidable TV watching years…

But here’s the thing—I remember virtually nothing about the show. I do not remember the Balki’s country of origin (I had to Wiki the mofo to come up with my clever title). I do not remember Larry’s profession. I DO remember that Larry had unreasonably hot girlfriend, and that even in my early years, I knew there was something innately impossible about their pairing.

That being said—there is one “Perfect Strangers” episode I do remember. I remember it vividly, in fact. I actually think about this particular episode quite often. And I think about it all the time while watching sports. Not every time, but it would be reasonable to say that during one out of three sporting events I watch, this episode crosses my mind.

Here’s the plot of the episode:

Larry involved Balki in a football pool in which they try and pick the winners each week. Inexplicably, Balki starts winning every week, displaying uncanny prognosticative abilities. The big reveal: Balki picked the winners based entirely the physical prowess on the mascots.

The thought of this as a child excited me. I knew (I think) that it had no real credence, but it sparked a lifelong interest in hypothetical fights. That’s why this episode comes to me so often during sporting events. During dull moments, I can fantasize about the real-life incarnations of the mascots going at it. (side note: This primarily works with football, where the mascots tend to be more ferocious. My favorite sport, baseball, comes up woefully short. You have to be pretty creative to imagine my beloved St. Louis Cardinals putting up an interesting fight against anything—unless they’re playing an inter-league series against Toronto or Baltimore, I guess. But I digress)

I bring all of this up because there is a pretty big football match going on this weekend. Tom Brady will face off against Eli Manning on the football field. But how would an actual Patriot face off against an actual Giant on the battle field of my mind.

Lets define our terms:

Opponent 1; a Giant.

Giants have taken many forms throughout literature and myth, varying from big to real fuckin’ big. I remember the giants in the Bible being, like, ten feet tall. Pretty weak. On the other hand, the giant in “Mickey and the Beanstalk” was massive. I think we need to split the difference. Our giant will be like the ones in the Harry Potter universe, which range from about 16-25 feet tall. We’ll split the difference and make him 20 feet tall. We also have to acknowledge that our giant will be real strong and real dumb. We’ll call our giant Grawp.

Opponent 2; A patriot

Based on pictures of the mascot I think that the patriot is kind of a revolutionary era soldier, not unlike Mel Gibson in “The Patriot.” Based on this, our patriot will be intelligent, well-armed, and anti-Semitic. We'll call our patriot Sugartits.

The Battle: Sugartits will be well adept in guerilla warfare and armed with a musket. He will be able to conceal himself in a place with a good vantage point and wait on his prey. Grawp will have no need or desire for concealment. He will trudge through the area wildly searching for his opponent. Sugartits will wait for his moment…load his muzzle…and FIRE!

Unfortunately for Sugartits, the powder from the musket will just bounce off Grawp (he's a freakin' giant). The only things it will accomplish is annoying Grawp and giving away Sugartit’s position. Grawp will take three or four huge strides grab Sugartits and tear him in half (and possibly eat him)…

Therefore, based on Balki’s criteria, The Patriots don’t stand a chance.

Final score: Giants 137, Patriots 3