Leaving town in a few hours to road trip it to Louisville for the Kentucky Derby. I am beyond excited, as this trip is a couple of years overdue. It's my first time in the 'Ville since Spring Break 2005 (a magical trip, if there ever was one); my first time reuniting with JV (a legend in his own right) in almost two years; and my first Derby experience, period. According to Schneweis, there are races on Friday, the main event on Saturday, and nonstop boozing the entire time. My goals for the weekend are simple, and they are few in number:
Don't get arrested.
Do get shitfaced.
Don't bring back more than $50. (unless there are heavy gambling winnings, let's just say I'm not too confident that I'll have to worry about that.)
Be coherent enough to remember the actual race, 20 seconds can go by pretty quick.
That's all. I printed out a few tidbits about the horses, so I at least have a fighting chance to win some money on stupid drunk bets. I'll study up during the drive down and place my bets accordingly. In my preliminary research, however, I happened to stumble upon a horse, by the name of Recapture The Glory, whose breeder's name is, I shit you not: Charles Jacobi. So I already decided that I'll be putting some ching down on that horse. If he loses, I blame you, Chuck.
Saturday is also Springfest up in Grand Forks, which means I won't be the only one of my friends that will be crushed by 11 am....which is a nice feeling. This will be the first Springfest I miss since the year 2000, which is a little sad. But don't cry for me, Argentina. Hot little southern belles in big-ass hats sipping on mint juleps, while I sniff their hair, mainline vodka beers and yell obscenities at random animals that cost me my hard-earned paycheck will keep me from getting too bummed out about missing the festivities up north.
Random thought that literally just popped into my head: what if there was the horse-racing equivalent to the Ron Artest brawl? OH MY LORD. Horses jumping into the stands, kicking the shit out of fans, people running onto the racetrack to challenge horses, then getting booted in the face, beer flying everywhere! If I see a horse lounging around near the infield, taunting the fans, I'm gonna lob my beer at its face and see what gets started, just in case.
Don't get arrested.
Do get shitfaced.
Don't bring back more than $50. (unless there are heavy gambling winnings, let's just say I'm not too confident that I'll have to worry about that.)
Be coherent enough to remember the actual race, 20 seconds can go by pretty quick.
That's all. I printed out a few tidbits about the horses, so I at least have a fighting chance to win some money on stupid drunk bets. I'll study up during the drive down and place my bets accordingly. In my preliminary research, however, I happened to stumble upon a horse, by the name of Recapture The Glory, whose breeder's name is, I shit you not: Charles Jacobi. So I already decided that I'll be putting some ching down on that horse. If he loses, I blame you, Chuck.
Saturday is also Springfest up in Grand Forks, which means I won't be the only one of my friends that will be crushed by 11 am....which is a nice feeling. This will be the first Springfest I miss since the year 2000, which is a little sad. But don't cry for me, Argentina. Hot little southern belles in big-ass hats sipping on mint juleps, while I sniff their hair, mainline vodka beers and yell obscenities at random animals that cost me my hard-earned paycheck will keep me from getting too bummed out about missing the festivities up north.
Random thought that literally just popped into my head: what if there was the horse-racing equivalent to the Ron Artest brawl? OH MY LORD. Horses jumping into the stands, kicking the shit out of fans, people running onto the racetrack to challenge horses, then getting booted in the face, beer flying everywhere! If I see a horse lounging around near the infield, taunting the fans, I'm gonna lob my beer at its face and see what gets started, just in case.
Actually, on second thought, I'm not totally sure that an angry horse is any scarier than an angry Ron Artest.
Cheers.
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