The Real Story Of What Happened The Night Ross And I Went To KAOS

We finally have an update from the sordid world of that terrible human being, The Tiger. A media event has been scheduled for tomorrow and at this event The Tiger is going to read from a prepared statement. And I gotta say, this whole thing makes The Tiger look worse than ever - something that almost seems impossible. Notice how I didn't say The Tiger was holding a press conference, because he's not. There will be friendly media present at this event, but they will not be able to ask questions. The purpose they'll basically serve is as props to try and give this ridiculous spectacle legitimacy. Any supposed journalist who shows up at this thing and sits there acting as little more than a potted plant should be mocked into oblivion. The lead golf writer from ESPN.com for example is gonna be there. I would urge everyone to get in contact with this guy through ESPN's website (Bob Harig is his name) and express what a shameless disgrace he is for participating (and that goes for any other journalist as well). The fact is that The Tiger reading from a prepared statement for a few minutes is pointless. He could just as easily release the statement through his boys at IMG and let everyone know when he's returning or not returning to competitive golf. There's only one reason The Tiger could have chosen tomorrow to throw this fake press event. And this is where he looks even worse than ever. The Tiger is holding this thing in the middle of the match play championship. And it just so happens that the sponsor of this tournament dropped The Tiger as a spokesman. Talk about sour grapes and petty revenge. What an asshole. This tournament is one of the 12 biggest of the year (after the majors, the playoff events, The Players, The Memorial, and maybe Doral). And for The Tiger to be so transparent in his petty hatred for the sponsor of the event is breathtaking. Maybe The Tiger thinks we're all too stupid to see what he's doing. But not all of us are. And as far as The Tiger ever holding a real press conference or doing an interview where he won't be lobbed softballs - I wouldn't hold my breath. The fact is that I, and I assume most everyone else (even die hard fans of The Tiger), don't need to ever hear him go into details about what happened or how "sorry" he is. It doesn't matter. He doesn't owe anybody anything. Just show up and start playing again. It would be entertaning if such an interview ever happened. Super entertaining. If some real journalist (like Ted Koppel for example) got an hour or two with The Tiger no holds barred, that would be awesome. And make The Tiger look like the stupidest phony alive. But he knows that and his handlers at IMG know that. So, it's not gonna happen. But this whole fake press event thing tomorrow should be mocked endlessly for what it is - a petty revenge minded farce.

As far as the sex rehab that The Tiger was at in Mississippi, did he see David Duchovny there? And if he did, did they trade stories about their favorite episodes of Red Shoe Diaries? Sex Rehab - the whole thing is hilarious. No doubt such places were built as money making scams so disgraced rich guys who whored around on their wives could get a chance to cry "Oh, it's not my fault I can't say no to skanks, I'm an addict." And as a result not get taken to the cleaners in divorce proceedings. Pitiful. As I always say on this blog, if you wanna whore around with skanks your whole life, cool - I'm certainly not one to cast aspersions there. Just don't ever get married if that's what you wanna do. It seems so simple. What is wrong with these guys???

We've also learned recently that The Tiger wasn't a fan of using condoms with his skanks - even the porn star skanks. He supposedly knocked this one porn star skank up twice. Twice!!! The woman goes by the name Joslyn James for some reason. And I guess at some point Jesper Parnevik's nanny has just gotten numb to all these revelations. I can't necessarily blame her for sticking with him so far, but she looks real bad the longer she does - like she has zero self-esteem. She actually looks just as pathetic as Hillary Rodham did back when her husband was sneaking around with butt ugly Batman looking villains in the back of his AstroTurf enhanced El Camino and she stood by her man just like Tammy Wynette, baking cookies (granted the cookies Hillary baked appear to have gone straight to her own enormous ass...).

The PGA Tour is definitely suffering with The Tiger's absence from tournaments. Crowds are way down at the events he normally plays (Torrey Pines and Pebble Beach come to mind). And I can totally understand The Tiger's immense popularity on the golf course. Millions of folks live vicariously through his powerful drives, dead on iron play, and spectacular short game. People love a winner, no doubt about that. It's a shame that the other great players out on tour get no love from casual sports fans. Just last weekend we saw Paul Goydos shoot a 64 at Pebble. And just yesterday, there were a number of compelling matches at the Accenture. But almost nobody cares. Except me, I still watch. Many of those guys are amazing - whether The Tiger is there or not.

I mentioned yesterday that Geilfuss' big 100th post was coming and he did put up part 1 of the thing. And let me say that I liked it immensely. Even though Geilfuss misuses the term memoir in the title (he should have called it an elegy of sorts or even a tribute), it's pretty readable. It's not totally accurate, but I'm hardly one to criticize for taking the occasional poetic license. If you want to read part 1 of Geilfuss' 100th blog post, here you go - http://www.itcouldbekobebryant.blogspot.com/. In the post Geilfuss recounts a story from December 2008 that involves me, Ross, massive amounts of alcohol, a strip joint, and an almost catastrophic ending. The only issue I have with it is that on the night in question, at no point were Ross and I ever in Get Bent Lounge (which is the whole thrust of the post). That and the fact that Geilfuss was still laid up at home following his brain scare (I know, I know, how much of a brain scare could Geilfuss possibly have? It's a fair question.) and nowhere to be seen. I mentioned this particular night in a blog entry back in December 2008 myself. I skirted around some of the more sordid details - for decency's sake. Anyway, in light of the story Geilfuss has spun on his blog (and again, I like the story), I'm gonna go ahead, against my better judgment and recount what really happened. It should be a cautionary tale. The problem with that is that I'm guessing the same thing could happen again tonight if Ross and I were in the right mood. Me, I never learn...

It was a Saturday and there were 2 big championship trivia games that day. Geilfuss mentions that Andy didn't make it out that day. And that things would have been much different if he had. Geilfuss is right on about that. As I recall, Andy was home feeling under the weather. That fact left me and Ross to our own devices for the day. We started at Wreck Room about 3:30. It was lame there, just some pitiful regulars sitting around. We had 2 beers each there. Then we headed out to Ellicott City for a 5 o'clock trivia game. This is the game that we play with Dave and Dick from time to time. I won't bore anyone with the details of the game - except to note I was sitting very close to the guy who plays devil's advocate and studies his notes and that this is the infamous game where the old drunk guy claimed that Einstein was the 1st American to win a Nobel Prize... Needless to say, I was drinking beer fast and so was Ross (I did manage to talk the team into the right answer on that Nobel question at least). We ended up in like 7th place or something. We then drove up to Finksburg for the championship game for Showtime Trivia. Thank God McGrain was there to have Brian delay the start, because we were about 15 minutes late. Now, Dave followed us to this 2nd game. And if you've ever drank with Dave, you know he likes 7 & 7 and Jack & Ginger. This trivia game went all the way to a little after 11 and for the last 45 minutes Ross and I switched from beer to Jack & Ginger. We probably hoisted back 3 apiece there before taking off. As far as the trivia game, we were playing shorthanded (no Andy, no Jeff, no Mary). And by some miracle we were up on the 30 other teams at half (largely because the halftime question involved years Christmas songs were released and I am money on those types of questions). We flamed out and finished out of the money. At this point Ross and I had been drinking quickly for basically for 7 and 1/2 hours (and the last bit we were knocking back those Jacks fast). We were debating where to go on our way back to the town that Elaine Benes is from. This is where not having Andy around really comes into play. Because I decided to go the Ramada on Loch Raven and mock the karaoke singers. Andy would have never allowed this. We would have been safely back at Get Bent Lounge by 11:45. Instead, me and Ross stumble into the Ramada dead drunk and decide to start in with the rock gut Scotch. On our 2nd of these Scotch drinks, a hideous woman approaches me and comes on super strong. It was at this point that we decided we had to get the hell out of there. We finish up the drinks and it's about 12:30. Again, no Andy around - he's home sick. So, what do we decide to do? Go to the lowest of the low class strip joints imaginable - KAOS. If you've never been to KAOS (and it was my first and only time in the joint myself), don't. The dancers there are mostly horrible skanks with scars, stretch marks, and bruises. We sit down at the bar and this is when things start to go bad. Ross decides to get a $100 dollar advance on his credit card. He gets 40 singles and buys more rock gut Scotch and beer with some of the rest of the dough. He was in such bad shape that I held all but about 30 of the singles for the kid (I was worried some unsavory stripper would have robbed him blind). About a 1/2 hour goes by. We get another round of Scotch and beer. Now, at KAOS the girls come around and strip right on the bar. They shimmy around your drinks and thrust their pasty covered nipples toward your head and then put their barely covered by garters and thong, nasty smelling coochies in the general vicinity of your mouth. I was laughing my ass off. But one of these skank strippers caught Ross' eye (remember the kid was ripped, hammered off his ass drunk). So Ross started shoving some of his massive stack of singles into this stripper's garter and thong. This dancer was very appreciative. She stuck around our area of the bar and got every last buck out of Ross she could. I left for a minute to use the men's room. I come back, sit down, order one last beer, and look over to Ross to see how he's faring. Only Ross has his head down. He's passed out. Finished. And as anyone who has ever dealt with Ross in this state can attest, you cannot wake him up. I was in a real pickle. About 10 minutes pass and one of the bouncers comes over and informs me that I have to get Ross out of KAOS. And I knew that. I was screaming at him to please wake up for just 5 minutes so I can get him out of there. He wouldn't budge. So, I talked 2 of the bouncers into dragging Ross out front and waiting until I pull the car around and then hoisting him into the passenger seat. Only it didn't work out that way. By the time I get to the car and drive back over in front of KAOS, I don't see Ross or the bouncers. Turns out they dumped him on the sidewalk behind some cars. So, I find him. But I can't get him up to save my life. Remember I've got the car running and the cops are likely to circle around at any moment and wonder why a car is running unattended with the passenger door wide open in the parking lot of a strip joint at 1:45. Eventually I begged 2 big dudes headed into KAOS to help me and thank God they obliged. They hoisted Ross up and got him to my car. Only I didn't want to stick around there too long under the circumstances. So, instead of having these guys place Ross in the passenger seat, we stuffed him into the back behind the driver's side. And I mean stuffed the kid. He wasn't back on the seat as much as scrunched in between the driver's seat and the back seat. I got in and had to move the driver's seat back in order to drive. And when I did, I heard a noise that had to be Ross' ribs cracking. But at least we got out of there okay. No ass kicking, no cops, and not robbed. I was in a bit of a state, to say the least. I wasn't in too great a shape (although adrenaline had kicked in and I was as sharp as possible under the circumstances) and I didn't know where to go. So, of course I called Andy. I don't remember the exact details of the conversation. But Andy did manage to convince me to simply take Ross back to my apartment and try and get him inside to sleep it off (I never mentioned it was probably 30 degrees out). I get back home, manage to park the car, and check on Ross still passed out and scrunched in behind the driver's seat. I can't get him to move. And even if I had, there was no way I was gonna get him up the 25 steps to my apartment. I decided to leave him. I went inside and passed out. I woke up about 7:30 or so feeling like shit, and then remembered Ross was still in my car. I went out to check on the kid. One problem - my car is not in the designated spot I always leave it. It's moved. Somehow the car has rolled backward and the back wheels are up over a curb and the front wheels are still in the road. Thankfully there were no parking spots directly behind where I park, or that would have been a disaster. And thankfully the curb stopped the momentum of the car or it would have gone straight into some girl's living room window. I get in and re-park the car in its normal spot. Ross had managed at some point in the night to wake up enough to get himself up into the front passenger side seat. Only while wiggling around, he'd managed to take off the parking brake - hence, the car almost ended up in some girl's living room window. I got Ross inside, got him several blankets (the kid was shivering like crazy from spending the night in the car in 30 degree weather), and he managed to sleep until about 10:30. When he woke up, we started laughing our asses off -obviously. In between the laughter Ross kept asking how he got this huge cut above his right eye. I eventually told him it was probably from when the bouncers dropped him on the sidewalk outside KAOS. And that's the real story of what happened the night Ross and I went to a strip joint. There is no moral to the story and no lesson to be learned - other than, as Geilfuss noted in his 100th post, Ross and I really benefit from having Andy around.