Bill P., a ring, a worm, and the Quilted Giraffe.

I received the following synopsis from Bill P. regarding the unfortunate incident that had occurred while doing nothing more than eating some salmon, getting engaged, and dropping the troops. Enjoy the story and video:

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1991 – NYC. It’s time to get engaged and eat at the trendiest, most expensive Manhattan restaurant, The Quilted Giraffe. A seemingly harmless piece of “lightly seared” Norwegian salmon, flown in from Norway that morning, passes my lips and enters my digestive system as my wife and I stare lovingly into each others eyes.

1992 – 14 months later. The engaged couple attempts a first: a home-prepared dinner of crab meat. The meal is consumed and a fire rages in my belly. After multiple, explosive trips to the bathroom, a strange sensation emanates from the anus. As I look down into the bowl I see a string-like appendage dangling and wiggling.

I call to the fiancée – “did we eat Spaghetti last night?” Immediately I realize how ridiculous that question is. I look again, and it hits me that I am experiencing a macabre, Alien nightmare.

I call to the fiancée a second time – “get the keys and a Tupperware container – we’re going to the hospital!” After a very long pause, the reply comes softly and without any hint of a question…..”Ok”.

The Tupperware container is passed through the bathroom doorway, and I begin the extraction process. As I engage in this unthinkable, hand-over-hand tug-of-war with my ass, a two-foot worm emerges. After extraction, it is hurled into the bathroom sink.

I examine it under the stark light and observe that it has a spine and symmetrical ridges emanating out and down from that center line.. I scream. But I am struck by the fact that it is outside of my body now, and I may have the rancid crab to thank. Apparently it was “too hot in the kitchen” for the little guy.

We make our journey to the hospital and two Indian doctors are dumbfounded as they stare at the creature in its new Tupperware home. Finally, after what seems like hours of perplexed examination and questioning, I am provided with a prescription. The next day I learn that the prescribed medication has not been manufactured in 2 years.

Finally I see a reputable doctor. He does a “back of the envelope calculation” to determine, based on the length and growth rate of this worm, how long it’s been in my body. About 14 months. And it’s a fish worm that grows from a tiny egg found in raw salmon. And then it hits me – the worm was an early wedding present from the Quilted Fucking Giraffe.

Labor Day BBQ 8/28/08

Ahhhh...anyone else still feeling like they swallowed a bison? Or pulled a fish worm out of their ass? (See preceding post)

Our 2nd annual Labor Day dietary disaster began with a very scary thought: A shit load of food, but no propane tank! John F. had forgotten his tank, but being that he is the only one who actually brought a full sized grill and donated it to TWAHT, he was forgiven immediately. The forlorn furnace of food sat idle among a mishappen bench, pink punch buggy, and various weeds.Shortly thereafter, previously unknown to anyone, our illustrious cat fancier Tom B. announced he had a friggin huge chafing pan of sausage and peppers that his wife Chan had made for us...(we were assured he did not molest any of the meat or veggies)...and saved the night! The prospect of not putting on 42%more of the calories we just burned off back into ourselves was a bit frightening! Damn this shit was GOOOOOOOD! Thanks Chan from all of us!

So our little group of hockey players realize when the puck hits the post, sometimes it will bounce in off the goalie anyway...smiles!
Well, not to be foiled of more food, phone call is made to the Fat Man to grab a propane tank from home on the way over. Who knew he was the James Bond of eating, and had a traveling grill ready to go.
Tom gets it going...
Matt piles up the vittles-and what a frikkin selection: brats, burgers, and sausage. Fuck yea! I mean geez, the 8 lbs of sausage and peppers could never be enough for a group of men whose combined weight rivals that of the very foundation the ice rink is built upon. 
I still dont know exactly what these are...but it's gotta be safer than salmon. Plus Mike B. REALLY wanted me to get a picture of it. So here ya go Mike. Happy now fukker?
The food MUST be ready soon for everyone to be so happy.
Even John cannot help but sweat in anticipation of aortic failure or artherosclerosis. 
Matt...bringer of food, grill master...legend. Hi John! 
The meaty spread. 
Worshipping The Table.
Bill pontificates about being anal raped by a nemotode of sorts. He SAYS the worm came from salmon...I say gerbils stopped losing their thrill for him...However, see the exclusive video reenactment and complete story on another post.
I double dog dare you!
And I think my unbuttoned shorts speak for all...

For all of you Guiness fans...best commercial ever for Guiness. Related to hockey loosely, I know, but hey...it's beer. And beer and hockey go together like Wonderland of Ice and stinky bathrooms

BBQ night 8/14/08

Another wonderful evening...Mr Marples showed up, John F. brought a whole frikkin brontosaurus to BBQ up, Jimmy P. continually harassed me to put an ass on his face, no cats were stolen, and we all put on 4 lbs. 

We also played hockey at some point.

FOUND!!! Video of Ray G!

Do you really want or need an explanation? Ray G. is our commensurate friend and buddy that always seems to show up with perfect timing, carrying a casket full of iced up beers! Although he does not actually play hockey, he is considered an alumni of TWAHT. AKA "The Fat Man."

The Table

Can any words give proper credence to The Table? The object that most exemplifies the reason we come to hockey? The lure of The Table is great. It is compelling. It keeps our beers at reaching height, cradles our mellish and lesser condiments, and provides ample seating for our festivities. The Table is the center of such brilliant conversations as Seinfeld script regurgitation and how to properly milk your prostate. The Table was the birthplace of such comedic genius as "Hey Joe, does your wife know you borrowed her sneakers?" It holds Ray G. up with the strength of Atlas himself, all the while looking dapper in it's Red Barn housepaint.

The Table has etchings...one day people will study The Table like the Rosetta Stone...trying desperately to resolve the meaning of "O'Rourke".

The Table. Our unsung hero of TWAHT hockey. 

Thursday Night 8/7/08

The sudden no-show of our illustrious goaltender Thomas "tomcat" B, was due to the following circumstances, so sent in an email to me from his darling wife:

"hey tom wanted me to get in touch with you and send his reguards for hockey last night. he talked to t.j. on tuesday and said something to him about not being able to play. he had hurt his knee really bad. he has been limping all week. then he got a phone call from the cats owner last night. said he (vic) got a call from some woman in meridan and that vic (the owner ) needed tom's help with i.d.ing a cats body. that it might be his cat and couldnt do it on his own. so tom was out all night with vic. they still dont know if it was really the cat or not. it was gross he said. so anyway. he says sorry for not following up with you directly. he just didnt have time to call this am. so that why i am emailing you. i was not sure if the number on the caller id was yours."

I had Chinese yesterday, and I can tell you the id'ing of this cat was probably not necessary, given the quality of the local Bridgeport cuisine.

Oh, by the way, the shooter tooter we were forced to break out after almost 2 consecutive years of having a netminder every night...was the winning goalie. Sorry Tom, tryouts are going to happen again next year :-(

TWAHT Hockey in the News

Boys, our quiet, old school hockey night has gone mainstream. We are proudly the only hockey club in America that can claim to be in the newspaper for 2 consecutive months ( and not in the sports section). First, a fringe player gets busted selling drugs, gonna do time. Then, our MENSA goaltender locks a frigin cat in his car and plays hockey all night. Brilliant. Whats next? Any thoughts on what we may find in September????

Goaltender's Jeep and handicapped cat stolen?

Ok, so I have been away being a "fag" (thanks Ray for the call!) and wakeboarding instead of being in the showers with naked men. Hey, what can I say? The summer is here and seeing half naked chicks in bikinis on the beaches and on other boats while riding a board just seems more appropriate.

So Bill W emails me and asks what happened to Tommy's Jeep? So lets hear it all...post what you know in comments...