You Want This Party Started Right?

  

I witnessed an amazing athletic feat Friday Night. I did not watch the NHL playoffs, the NBA playoffs, or go to a MLB game. It was something more amazing.

One strong, accurate right arm reared back and launched a projectile over the playing field. The ball soared majestically through the air cutting through the wind like a hot knife through butter. Nerves of spectators tensed up, and there was a respective holding of breath as the ball came closer to its target.

Splash, Score!

The ball landed in the target, the crowd erupted, high-fives were exchanged. There was chest pounding, yelling, taunting and maybe a little beer-induced celebratory dance - or maybe it was a stumble.

These days with the sun out longer, the shirts are coming off and so are the tops of massive amounts of 30-packs for beer-pong. Beer-pong may, in fact, be the greatest beer-related creation since the birth of funneling - because if you’re like me, no matter how much you suck, you’re always a winner.

I am an avid Shaq hater. Back in the day, I used to always bash Shaq for his free throw-shooting shortcomings. But now I can sympathize with the big Aristotle. Throwing a tennis ball into a basketball hoop is about the same as throwing a Ping-Pong ball into a plastic brew-filled cup - something I wasn't too good at Friday Night.

My roommate reinforced my self-criticism of beer-pong skills.

“Charlie, you fucking suck,” Linda affirmed during our last beer-drinking endeavor.

Or do I?

This is one game I actually don't mind losing. Some people like to win out of competitiveness, bragging rights, or so they can avoid becoming inebriated.

Me? I don’t give a crap.

I swear, it’s really part of my elaborate, selfish conspiracy to rob people of their beers. It’s by far the most effective means of soaking up some sun and getting more bang for your buck by taking your friend's brewskies. It’s simple: Just throw the game. I am the Shoeless Joe Jackson of beer pong.

So go grab a couple of 30-packs and set up those beer-pong tables for a sloppy old time.

As for my beer-pong deficiencies, perhaps one of these days I will try to earn a bit of respectability at the table. For now, I’ll just apologize for waking up my neighbors if they hear that incessant Ping-Pong ball hitting the table while I practice my beer-pong stroke till the wee hours of the morning.

Or maybe I’ll just get plastered enough to think that my shots are going in the cup, when, in all reality, I’m just incapacitated on my living room floor flicking peanuts at the dogs.

Yeah, I’ll do that instead. In beer pong, everyone's a winner.

Friday Night started out relatively quiet. Tiny A, Linda and I, sitting in the sun room with Coronas and snacks while the dogs ran amuck. As the sun started to set, the music got turned up and the drinking got heavier, not to mention the light up disco ball. Linda pulled the beer pong table out of the attic and I walked over to the deli for a 12 pack, then another, and we got started. After receiving an ass-kicking from her, we decided to say hi to the new neighbors next door who moved in earlier on Friday. We knocked on the door and found seven 20-something year old girls and a couple of guys partying in the living room. Next thing we know, they are all in our front yard playing beer pong with us. Welcome to the "hood" we said and they were just as happy to have "cool" neighbors as we were. It turns out only two of the girls live there and the rest are buddies from the neighborhood. We have already been invited to all their summer shenanigans, and them to ours.

So many funny weekend stories to tell, like the birth of Scotty, the white pig, and a host of others. I'll have more tomorrow!!!!