Zacchaeus Was A Wee Little Man

I came across something on the old DirecTV a few weeks ago, the day of the Super Bowl to be exact, called the Celebrity Beach Bowl. And it was stupid. Obviously. Retired NFL stars like Warren Moon, Joe Montana, Eddie George, and Prime Time played flag football with C and D list celebrities (Doogie Howser & girls from a vampire show I've never heard of as a few examples). Anyway, the key to the Celebrity Beach Bowl was not the players in the pathetic game. The key to the Celebrity Beach Bowl was the coaches. Or one coach in particular, Cam Newton of the Carolina Panthers. We learned something very important about Newton as he coached his team. We learned that Newton can't count. Newton repeatedly had either one extra player on the field or one too few. Over and over and over Newton demonstrated that he can't count. At least 15 times throughout the game someone had to tell Newton to either throw someone else out there or get someone the hell off the field. It was enlightening. If I were a Carolina fan, I'd be a little worried that my franchise QB can't count to 6.

I dropped into RumbleForeskins Saturday afternoon for a bit to visit with my man Tommy, history teacher extraordinaire and part-time bartender. We got to talking about the typical stuff we do each Saturday during college football season: Siler City, gambling, Slobodan Milosevic, toilet lids, & the 100 Years War (which wasn't a hundred years by the way). Anyway, Tommy is a native of Mobile, Alabama. And I started to really press Tommy on the number of mobile homes there are in Mobile. I actually believe I read somewhere that every home in Mobile is a mobile home. It's a city ordinance or something. Now, Tommy didn't disagree with me. In fact, Tommy noted that every home in the entire state of Alabama must, by law, be a mobile home. It's certainly something to keep in mind. I bet Nick Saban has one of the nicer mobile homes in the state. Hell, it may even be a double-wide.

I was sitting in Sloppys last Friday night for some dumb reason, right next to Moose & Tim. They were running their mouths about the typical fake macho silliness they always do. Then to my right, down at the end of the bar, I notice the despicable Michigan Molly. I was worried to death she'd recognize me (remember, I did steal her car about 16 months ago). And sure enough, after a few minutes Michigan Molly says, "Hey, Jack. How have you been?" Now, the reason she calls me Jack is because I told her my name was Jack at some point a few years ago. I get a big kick out of it when someone goes to the trouble to remember a fake name I've given them in a drunken stupor. Anyway, I asked her the same silly questions I do when I run across her every 8 months or so. You know, "Do the wheelchair kids you teach struggle with Sex Ed?" Or "Do you teach Sex Ed topless?" Or "How many fingers do you recommend for the crippled girls to cram into their holes the first time they get the urge to masturbate?" Those kinds of harmless queries. She did her best not to get upset with me. Blah, blah, blah. At one point, Michigan Molly asked why I hadn't run across her in so long. And I told her I had been fighting the old Hepatitis for much of last fall. She asked which type of Hepatitis I'd been batting last fall. I said, "Type C, woman." She replied, "Don't most people die from Hepatitis C?" I said, "Hell if I know, but it was touch and go there for a few months. I was real worried." Now at this point, Tim & Moose, overhearing this whole exchange, were barely able to sit up in their bar stools from laughing so hard. I got bored of telling puerile lies to Michigan Molly after like 10 minutes and informed Tim & Moose to start calling me Zack repeatedly in conversation. Why, you may wonder? Well, I wanted them to call me Zack repeatedly so that when Michigan Molly inevitably eavesdropped on our bizarre & alcohol-fueled conversation, she'd get the idea that I'd given her a fake name way back when I told her my name was Jack. And I gotta hand it Moose. The man did not disappoint. Moose must have called me Zack 50 times in 5 minutes. At one juncture I even threw this gem out there, "Did I ever tell you guys that Zack is short for Zacchaeus?" Pure bar inanity. Another 15 minutes goes by and I desperately wanted to get the hell out of Sloppys and far away from Michigan Molly. Moose suggests we drop in Scam's Lakeside for a few. I said, "Okay." Little did I know at the time that Moose was looking for a little oral action from Michigan Molly. So, I'll be damned, but when I get to Scam's Lakeside, after about 20 minutes, guess who drags her ragged ass into the joint but Michigan Molly. I said to Moose, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Moose explained that he was looking for a blowjob and Michigan Molly was his safest bet for the night and I couldn't really get too upset with him over that. And I guess he had a point. But remember, Michigan Molly is disgusting and horrific. Lucky for me, Tim suggested shots. I had 2 Jagers in like 7 minutes. And that did the trick. I was feeling it. So, I went up to the short black kid that runs the Karaoke in Scam's Lakeside (he's a Raider fan, I've seen the kid around the bars for years) & told him to fire up the Naughty By Nature for me. And sure enough, the Raider fan obliged me. When the song started and the brother says, "Arm me with harmony. Dave, drop a load on 'em," I went up to Michigan Molly, told her that she better be ready to receive Moose's load later on, threw a $20 bill on the bar, and staggered out of that damn bar.

I was sitting at Wing Joint Sunday night watching the Heat/Hawks game, chatting with my buddy Dave, who was back behind the bar toiling away the same as ever. There were 3 servers working at the time. Dave asks me, "How many of the 3 do you think are pregnant?" I answered, "I assume all of them."

I got the chance recently to watch Lost In Translation for the 1st time in a few years. It made me tear up like always. Bill Fucking Murray.