PIF Reunites for Post Season Bash at Dojo

Like my mama used to say, "When you throw some bad eggs together, it's a recipe for some bad food." She didn't really say that but I needed an opening.

Our captain and CAO, Mike D (not of the Beastie Boys but of the average guy walking down the street kind), hosted Friday's post season soiree for Pride is Forever. It was an evening to pat ourselves on the back for being mediocre: finishing in 4th place out of a 13 team league. Yes, all of our moms are bragging about this as we speak. More importantly though, it was an opportunity to "acknowledge" the various contributions made by individual team members.

One observation. When I walked into the Dojo, I was taken aback. Where were the posters of the Bud Light girls? The dirty socks hanging from the drawer? The leftover pizza boxes? Oh, quite the contraire. Mike D's crib is Yuppified with a capital Y. A sophisticate of the 21st century. What toys a young, single, educated white male might possess, he does. There's the 40+ inch flat screen TV, next to that is a very prominent long and skinny wooden (and tall, 5 ft +) sculpture procured from an African tribe on the plains of the Serengenti while hunting mani-eating lions for sport (how's that for a story). In addition, there's the Miami Vice/Beach frescoes on the wall (art lover), a monster 3 burner stainless steel grill, and a hot tub just big enough for three (with built-in Crystal coolers). I'm pretty sure the bearskin rug is hidden in the closet for those uber special moments. Welcome to the Dojo my friends.

Back to the story.

The all-important awards ceremony, the highlight of the night. Unless you're on the team, you won't get these or find them remotely funny. That really doesn't matter given that my readership consists ONLY of the team (& Heather) anyways and they only read my blog because I spam them with a weekly email campaign that promises them a rev share on ad revenue.

(Drum roll)

In no particular order of course. The shining stars and what shined so bright...

• Wind Beneath My Wings Award - Alison (Certificate of Achievement for being the loudest screamer on sidelines, includes the Microsoft mascot, the Butterfly)
• "Look at his Eyes" and Whiteboard Award - Adam (Sunglasses and pad/pens to prevent opposing defenses from knowing where the ball is going)
• OldTimer Award - Johnny (Geriatric Giftbag of Ben Gay and Geritol to keep everything in check)
• Flav a Flav Award - John (Clock and Pad to make games on-time)
• "Let's Look Like I Belong Here (i.e. not Panhandling on Street Corner)" Award -Maggie (Sunglass case and cords to keep glasses intact and on face)
• "I'm Young and Can Drink" Award - Nicole (State-of-the-Art Beer Bong for the only person that would use it on a regular basis; compliments of OldTimer)
• Special Ball for Special Kids Award - Mike D (Very Large Blow Up Football for Ages Four and under, to work on ball catching in the off season)
• Twinkle Toes Award - Kellyn (Ballerina shoes (or Kilo of Coke) for strong toes when performing double feet hop move and maintaining sick athletics in blood; compliments of Senor Tintle, the Blow King of Seattle)
• Little Football with Nicole's Deep Thoughts Award - Debbie (ask Nicole)
• Cuervo Especial Award - Matt Krueger (Bottle of Tequila for his namesake play)
• Jared the Subway Guy Award - Jamie (Subway card for three 6-inch turkey subs with all the toppings, compliments of Dean's leftover Subway points)
• Enough of Your Stupid Blog, Here's a Personal Diary Award - Herman (Paper Diary so he can keep his deep thoughts to himself and Extreme DDR for off season rehab)

After our awards, the group needed to kickstart the tryptophanal lull brought on by the meat dishes (burgs, brats, etc.), Deb's famous pasta, and guac & chips. (I'm questioning the use of that tryptophan adjective).

In response, Sensei Dean barked orders for team shots. I became the makeshift bartender - throwing whatever liquor, juice, and ice lay on the counter into a blender for some ungodly concoctions.

We then made full use of Nicole's award as the beer bong went around the room. To my dismay, I disgraced my alma mater by regurgitating the last few inches of foam that came through the funnel. I think it's somewhere fermenting on Mike's ceiling. Yes, my brethren in Hanover would not have been proud and my degree is temporarily in suspension. Whatever. Actually, I was more bummed out that I got beer on my new designer shirt. J/k, not really.

Anyhow, we then took the partay to Capitol Hill at the Baltic Room where the DJ played old school hip hop and laid down some pretty nifty beats. The scene was a bit younger and more Asiany. My peeps, not really.

So the drinks continued to flow and then Dean starts to think he's the star of Hustle & Flow, "rapping" to all the songs with Aggie gang signs ablazing. Notice rapping in quotes.

Towards the end of the night, Debbie has a close encounter of the darker kind. Clearly, she was shaking her junks enough to pique the interest of this younger male. Not sure if digits were exchanged, so you'll have to get the details from her. Anyhow, we end up shutting down the Baltic Room at the 'break of dawn' (2 am in Seattle). Thus, ending another PIF night.

One final note, we did have one fallen soldier who was unable to participate in the festivities. While the airline gods were not in her favor, we did keep her anima-tensity with us throughout the night. Kellyn, you'll be happy to know you were in our thoughts as we got housed. We'll just have to dominate the summer league, claim the title, and make Vegas the next spot for PIF banquet. I'm thinking Ghost Bar at The Palms.