  CIMGW 2004 Preview By Chris Cardillo August 19, 2004 The Skinny Crazy Iron Man Guy Weekend 2004. See 4 baseball games while at the same time try to stay drunk from Friday morning through Tuesday night. The Plan Hit the Foxy at 6AM Friday morning for Leggs &amp; Eggs. Fly to SD, find Hooters, and wait for Joel. Saturday see an LA afternoon game and a night game in SD. Sunday is the drive to SBC in SF, and Monday brings us a night game in Anaheim.
Hope we can make it home. The Predictions None of the home teams win. I get a fever along the way. TDI says something too loud at one of the bars, in which a fight ensues. Tim passes out outside a bar in SF and gets man-raped. Steve will steal enough to make a full sized time capsule of CIMGW2004.
Joel gets so drunk he thinks he is Johnny Damon and shaves off his beard. The Play-By-Play 4:55 AM EST Friday My alarm goes off and I think I can snooze just once and I do. 5:03 AM EST Friday My alarm goes off again, and I get up, grab my bag and leave. Once I start my car, I realize I forgot my flask in the fridge. For those who can smell their own, you know this aggravates me being very lazy and having to take the key back out of the ignition. Damn it, this trip is not starting off in the right direction.
5:08 AM EST Friday I pass by The Daily Grind, my everyday coffee shop, and hoped it was open to go look for some quick good-bye buffs, but it is closed. 5:15 AM EST Friday I pull up to Buff’s Palace, and see Tim’s car there, and a light on in the kitchen. I go inside to see Tim in the kitchen drinking, and I ask him where Steve is. He tells me how he needed a drink before he bothered to worry about Steve, since the drive from his place to here was too long and he became slightly sober. 5:19 AM EST Friday Chris pulls up, Steve runs down the stairs realizing he forgot to make Buff’s Brew, and grabs whatever liquor he’s got and mixes, forcing us to drink. 5:59 AM EST Friday We arrive at The Foxy Lady in TDI’s car.
He lost rock paper scissors, and bitched about it how he never wins. Tim can hardly walk, he’s hammered but we pay our $7 cover and go inside. Well, you know the old saying about going into these places, “Hey guys, what I’m doing in here’s private!” 6:43 AM EST Friday We leave The Foxy and hope we can still catch our plane. We’re all a little loopy, and we realize Tim is still inside. Rumors start flying about how he puked on a stripper during a lap dance. What a sick bastard.
7:09 AM EST Friday We pull up to the airport, and I suggest we all need a drink from the flasks to celebrate us getting this far, and nobody declines. Tim walks into the airport drinking a beer from his trusty 12-pack he certainly didn’t forget to bring. I remind everyone that if we are too drunk they won’t let us onto the plane, TDI looks at me like I’m crazy and sets up the backpacks so we can start playing cards. Tim yells at me and drinks another beer. 8:07 AM EST Friday It’s boarding time, we have a 2 on our Southwest boarding passes, which should be enough to get seats near each other but at the back of the plane. I suggest taking the far back seats so we are closest to the bathrooms, since we had an ass burning Hooters experience last night, and the last thing we want is one of us screaming in pain and Hershey-squirting all over the seats.
Steve pours some flask juice into his OJ, and we all think he is brilliant and follow suit. 10:37 AM CST Friday We have landed in Phoenix for the layover. We all are too drunk to know which city we are actually in, so we rock paper scissor and I win and choose we are in Phoenix. We also don’t know what time it is and Steve insists it’s 10:37 AM CST, which is good enough for us. We find a nice bar in the airport and order some beers, and continue playing our Hold ‘Em tournament. TDI won the first round, and Tim the second.
12:30 PM PST Friday California baby! We’ve landed, and now it’s time to find Hooters. We get the minivan, then I remind everyone that we can’t get shots at Hooters so we’ll have to do a welcome to California shot at one of the bars in the airport. TDI says we should wait for Joel, and I explain he’s already in California, and thus is not being welcomed at this time. TDI drives us to Hooters, Tim in the front seat, me and Steve drinking our flasks in the back. 12:41 PM PST Friday We find a bar named Sancho and obviously we stop.
Nowhere could be a better choice for our shot. We figured 4 Wise Men, but Tim said no way, so we opted for a 3 Wise Men shot. Tim took a Jaeger. Steve then tells us that being wise, we now understand the meaning of the next shot that we do for Sancho. He’s right! We will.
We will what? I don’t remember. Not driving! 1:23 PM PST Friday There is the promise land! That’s right we found Hooters, I’m searching for the dumb Mexicans, but only see the hot college dropouts. We go inside, and all are amazed at how hot these chicks are!
Jesse Stick 1 takes some initiative and slaps the hostess in the ass. We order 50 3-Mile Island Wings, and Steve orders 20 BBQ wings, in which Tim immediately tells the waitress how Steve is not man enough to eat hot wings. She looks at Steve, but he is just staring at her chest. The rest of the afternoon is kind of fuzzy. 4:07 PM PST Friday Joel shows up at Hooters, and we give him a huge “Hey!!!”. Joel laughs at how drunk we all are, and quickly pours himself a beer.
Joel luckily was thoughtful enough to drink a small bottle of Jaeger in his car before coming in. His beard is out of control now, and I call him Grizzly Adams. Jesse Stick 2 finishes the pitcher of beer. We are all hammered and laughing our asses off. 6:10 PM PST Friday Wow, what a laugh. We leave Hooters and head back to Joel’s new condo.
He tells us all the ins and outs of the place, shows us where the hot chicks live, has no answer as to why they are not in his condo, but does show us where he keeps his stash of dead hookers. Joel explains to us the best choice for killing hookers is to be sure they are Mexican, since you’re making the world a better place and they are small people, so you can fit more of them in your trunk. 10:34 PM PST Friday After a rest of more drinking and playing Asshole at Joel’s we decide it’s time to hit the bars. I bring up getting the yard of beer like Joel and I did last time, but that is shot down, but we head downtown. Tim is not allowed into some of the bars because he is wearing sneakers. We just wander around very drunk, yelling at how smelly Mexicans are.
1:04 AM PST Saturday We get back to Joel’s and rock paper scissor for sleeping places. We’ve got a bed, a cot, a couch and a loveseat. Luckily tonight, I got the couch, and not the loveseat. Just before bed, I take a monster growler, and stink up the place. The paint peels away and even the dead Mexican hookers are complaining. 4:22 AM PST Saturday Steve wakes us all up via the loudest fart you’ve ever heard.
He blames it on his lactose stomach and how the weather in the west effects him differently. We decide he either has to do a shot of Charcoal Vodka or get kicked in the gonads. He chooses wisely, and I do a shot as well, followed by all. TDI insists we have time for a round of Hold ‘Em, and somehow we all agree. Joel loses, and doesn’t know yet that he was betting his condo. 8:07 AM PST Saturday Joel is awake making coffee and pancakes for us all.
He doesn’t like the idea of going the whole 9 and making eggs and bacon, and TDI awakes from a dead sleep, pounds the rest of the liquor in his flask, and burns Joel’s face on the oven burners. Tim and Steve help Joel put the fire out on his beard, while TDI and myself cook the pancakes to rock hard Frisbees. We decided the best choice is to Frisbee Golf our way to the nearest restaurant for breakfast. Then we decide the Champion Award for CFG (California Frisbee Golf) is front runner in the E-Train that will undoubtedly be run, and the loser will have his breakfast cooked OVERDONE! at the restaurant. 9:24 AM PST Saturday We enter the Waffle House and Joel checks his gun at the door.
Surprised that he has a gun, Steve insists Joel must be a drug dealer. Joel quickly interrupts. He tells us he doesn’t use it much anymore since he found a quieter way to kill the Mexican hookers. 9:42 AM PST Saturday Breakfast is being served when Tim stands, whacks his plate to the ceiling and yells “OVERDONE!” Joel instantly leaps for his gun and shoots the place up. Now still hungry we jump in the minivan, which unbeknownst to all, TDI has at the door with the engine running. I didn’t think a minivan could squeal its tires for so long.
11:16 AM PST Saturday We get to LA in record time. We figure we’re the least dangerous in LA, so we’re safe. Before Joel stashed his gun in the retard bus he never told us about, we stopped so he could use the bathroom. By use the bathroom he meant hold up the gas station. Of course we didn’t know this yet, he came running out with a 30rack of Millers, and that distracted us. 11:54 AM PST Saturday Dodgers Stadium is a dump.
We aren’t questioning Joel buying every drink and all the food, we know he makes 7 figures and thought he was finally willing to share the wealth. 1:05 PM PST Saturday First pitch! At this point we’re half in the bag and Joel is MIA. We assumed he was buying more drinks and we had enough liquor in our flasks to hold us over. 2:58 PM PST Saturday I open my eyes and have no idea what’s going on. I soon remember I’m in LA, but wonder why Steve isn’t wearing any pants, TDI has a black-eye, and Joel is macking some grandma.
Wait, I thought Joel was missing, where’s Tim? “Time to go,” I yell. We run like the flash, which was slower than a slug. Alcohol really does wonders. Steve drives us out of the parking garage, I cannot believe we didn’t tip over. 6:39 PM PST Saturday Petco Park.
Qualcomm 2. I remember being there last year at the closing ceremonies of the Q, the lights were shut off and seeing greats like Ozzie Smith and Dave Winfield. I start chanting “Free hat! Free hat!” and whine about how I should have brought my Petco Field hat. Steve tries stealing a mostly empty bottle of liquor from a sleeping bum, but the bum awoke, and snaps Steve’s wrist! Steve screams in pain, TDI and myself kick the snot out of the bum, and take his liquor.
TDI then tells Steve that nothing is ruining this trip, finish this liquor and forget about your wrist. Joel then tells us the bum is dead. 7:05 PM PST Saturday First pitch! We don’t care about the game and Joel and I prove that they sell shots of Jaeger for $8.50 a pop. 8:12 PM PST Saturday Steve notices it says ‘Hello Eastsidaz’ on the huge digital display in the outfield. We’re all wowed.
Then it says our names, Steve, Corpse, TDI, Joel…. Be afraid! Last time you ever leave me in LA by myself! The lights go down. AHHHH!!!! 8:55 PM PST Saturday I again wake up, still in Petco, everything is OK. Everyone is drinking, Tim calls me a pussy, and I wake up.
Luckily the beerman is right there. 10:46 PM PST Satruday We get to Joel’s condo and crash for a few hours. I got the bed this time! 2:07 AM PST Sunday Tim drives first on the 10 hour haul to San Francisco. The rest of us are playing some drinking Hi-Lo-Jack. The flasks turned out to be a great idea.
8:32 AM PST Sunday Breakfast time. After Steve reminding me of the 14 hot wieners I had this past week, he dares me to get a 10 egg omelet. I figure I’m on vacation, why not. 12:14 PM PST Sunday So there’s SBC. I was told that you can stand in the outfield wall at ground level. Since we only got standing room tickets, then what’s the difference?
But first we need to check out McCovey’s Cove. 12:36 PM PST Sunday Steve and TDI still try to believe they’re going to jump into the cove. Yeah right, time for drinking. We end up having a couple shots each and buy a beer. 12:45 PM PST Sunday Joel says don’t jump out into the cove until the game starts to be sure you’re on TV. 1:28 PM PST Sunday Bonds comes to bat and jacks # 694 towards the cove.
Steve looks at TDI and says, “Mine.” We’re like 50 feet up from the water, he runs and leaps such a distance, misses the ball and heads toward a kayak. TDI is not far behind him. They both live happily ever after, riding away in their new kayak. I told them we shouldn’t go to SF. 4:31 PM PST Sunday Joel says what we just realized, TDI had the keys. We decide to hit a bar first before checking the parking garage and hot wiring the van.
I suggested this was deserving of Long Island Iced Teas. We had no choice. We stumble back to the van to see Steve and TDI drinking and playing wiffleball. 6:04 PM PST Sunday I start feeling feverish, and take some ibuprofens. We head into an Applebee’s for some drinks. Tim keeps pointing out the hot chicks and tells me every guy is gay.
He says he won’t stop until I slam one of them in the pooper. 12:06 AM PST Monday We close the place, and have no idea how we’re going to find our hotel. TDI is only pretty sure that one is booked. Steve offers to take the wheel. He’s scraping cars and laughing, but we’re still moving. We pull into some hotel parking lot and get out.
I don’t quite know how we got a room, or why Tim had blood on his hands. 4:12 AM PST Monday I wake up because I’m singing Disney songs in my head, dreaming of Space Mountain. Then I clog the toilet, but nobody else is awake so I leave it. 7:03 AM PST Monday OK time to unclog the toilet, everyone is pissed. They said I cannot drink until it is fixed. I fixed that damn thing in 11 seconds, grabbed the bottle of liquor and chugged.
I think it’s my turn to drive. 8:12 AM PST Monday I was right, my turn. Dear God, we’re in trouble. I drive less than a mile and pull into a restaurant for breakfast. Nice. 4:25 PM PST Monday Arriving in Anaheim now.
4:29 PM PST Monday Jesse Stick 1 tried to remind us how terrible this city was, and just then we crash…. ……….. 8:34 PM PST Monday I wake in a hospital, everyone is there but Tim. Joel says Tim is at the game. 11:56 PM PST Monday Tim comes back and drives us to SD. He gives us plenty of liquor, says we probable should stay in the hospital, but he knew we’d want to drink instead. 3:01 AM PST Tuesday Back at Joel’s place, time for one last game of Asshole.
We all die. The Conclusions Attacking bums is a great way to find liquor. If the rule in Asshole is drink till you die, don’t take it literally. Wiffleball isn’t as much fun when playing with low ceilings. 4 games, 4 parks, 5 days, 5 people, 2 stick people, 1 vehicle, 1 CIMGW2004. Had we gotten T-shirts, I’m confident we’d have lived. 
