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Off the Wagon

May 2007 - Posts

  • Charlie Frye found with Brady Quinn Voodoo Doll

    Charlie Frye was the last thing on Brady Quinn's mind as he exited the 'Structure' at Beachwood Mall.  In a sarcastic effort to appease world class ass kisser Joe Theisman, Quinn was in the process of  purchasing a brand new wardrobe with LT Joe Thomas.

    Theisman's unwarranted dig at the newest QB of the Browns did not stop with just an open criticism to the media.

    "Joe called my cell and gave me some suggestions on where to shop and cut my hair."  Quinn sheepishly told the media on Monday  " He told me J-Crew and Best Cuts were a good start to, you know, look more "All-American".  He said I should try to look whiter than Mike Tirico and Bryant Gumbel playing Frisbee at a Dave Matthew's Concert."

    Quinn took the pompous remarks in stride, picking up some nice pleated pants and a pastel dress shirt at Structure. But as he left the store, he was met face to face with Browns scrappy QB #1 Charlie Frye.  

    Charlie, donning a 2Pac t-shirt with Carhart overalls, was coming out of the Ye Olde Fair Mustache Trimming Shoppe with TE Kellen Winslow and WR Braylon Edwards.  

    The initial meeting was quite cordial as the two QB's made small talk about Corey Snyder, Brook Jacoby and Bernie Kosar.

    They seemed to hit it off, slowly drifting away from the rest of their teammates, finding a wooden bench across from Orange Julius to sit and chat.

    It was reported that KWII and Joe Thomas made their way to the food court to see who could "bench press more soccer moms".  

    Yung Ping Pong, a sampler for Asian Food, Yum!, had this to say about KW and Joe Thomas.  

    "You try bourbon chicken?"

    After many attempts to sign language and dramatically annunciate Kellen Winslow 2,  Yung finally understood and replied:

    "Man on clutches, he rift sevren radies.  Man smell fishy, he rift six radies.  Man on clutches wrin.  Fatality.  Bourbon Chicken?"

    Braylon Edwards was seen in the parking lot playing air catch by himself.  He was overheard repeating his new mantra " Don't leave your damn feet, catch with your damn hands" over and over and again.

    Fabriccio Marichelli, a hair dresser at Best Cuts, saw the newly acquainted QB's chatting together and thought something was up.

    "I gave the Abercrombie looking one a hair cut earlier this morning.  He told me some old mediocre QB, made famous by a broken leg, was spouting off trivialities about his hair.  I gave him a nice typical franchise QB look.  Before I could sweep up, the scrappy one with the bad mustache ran in, grabbed a lock of hair off the floor, and bolted.  I thought it was kind of unusual, but hey, I work at a mall.  I see weird shit everyday."

    Apparently the fresh relationship became seriously uncomfortable when Chuck and Brady decided to swap numbers.  Brady programmed Chuck into his shiny new Black Berry.

    Charlie dug around in his overall pockets for a pen and paper when a small little doll fell out.

    Brady looked down in horror at a miniature figure with his exact likeness.  At this point, Charlie apparently picked up the doll, scrambled right, held on to it too long, fumbled it twice,  threw it end over end towards a trash can only to be picked off by a janitor, and was accidentally sacked by the proprietor of Piercing Pagoda.  Par for the course.

    Quinn talked about watching his future mentor bumble around the mall.

    "Aw you know Charlie's a good guy.  He's a hard competitor and I thought he looked real good avoiding that stand with the microwave-able aromatic pillows."

    Brady went on to talk about the voodoo doll.

    "Really I'm just glad to have an answer for these painful burns, stabbing pains and overall feelings of dread."

    Fabriccio was questioned on whether the voodoo doll incident was the weirdest thing he's ever seen at the mall.

    "Nope.  I've seen Kirstie Alley's balls."

  • Something is Wrong

    The original name for this blog was ' A crazy person's chronicles of Christmas in April'.

    But I scrapped it.

    The doomed blog was an hourly updated diary of giddy anticipation and weirdness starting last Friday at Noon, and ending with the Browns' 3rd round pick on Saturday. 

    It was a wide array of tom foolery, like the idea for an advent calendar with a draft motif for grown men.  Instead of little chocolates or cutesy prizes it would be chalk full of sample size Scotch, Beef Jerky, Smoked Kielbasa, and the last day (draft day) would reveal the final piece to the easy-assemble Jessica Biel Robot.

    I wanted Joe "The Fish" Thomas if Russell wasn't there. 

    We got him.

    But alas, something precarious happened soon after.  The blog was not to be, it blew up in my face. 

    As the ashes of seamlessly threaded analogies mending Brady Quinn's good looks to the followers of Notretology & L. Ron Hubbard (who sat in a cupboard) cleared, humility was revealed. 

    I was shocked, amazed and time-release ecstatic.

    Savage traded back in.  You know the rest.

    Cleveland was the talk of the nation.

    Every sportstalk channel had something good to say about what Savage did day one.  I live in New York City, but for the weekend it felt like good old local Cleveland news.  I half expected Dick Goddard to update me on the weather in the snow belt. 

    There were no funny quips/sarcastic anecdotes to be had from this lifelong cynic.

    The Cavs had quietly and expectantly swept the depleted  Wizards. 

    The Tribe is still in first place and the Yankees are crumbling.
    The Browns had potentially the greatest draft in franchise history.

    And on a personal note, I came within 10 feet of Christopher Walkin (Wowwee!) at a Tribeca Film Fest. after party on Fri. 
    Pure euphoria.

    Would it end? 

    Probably, but things became even more satisfying Tuesday afternoon in the cafeteria at work.

    As I sat alone eating some zesty soup, listening to 3 guys talk about the draft at a table next to me, I heard the unthinkable.

    "Man, Cleveland had a stellar draft."
    "Tell me about it."
    "I can't believe they picked up Brady at 22."
    "Joe Thomas was a great pick-up.  Just like D'Brickshaw."
    "You know, the Browns can make a run at the playoffs this year."
    "Lewis, Winslow, Edwards and now Quinn at QB and Thomas protecting, they'll be pretty good."

    What?

    Something is wrong here.

    You're not supposed to say that.  You're supposed to make fun of us, demean us, make a Tim Couch reference, not give us praise and say those glorious words PLAYOFFS. 

    All this went through my head, surprising me, and I began to choke. 

    I sucked some soup down the wrong pipe.  Not in a "I'll be okay in a second" kind of way but an embarrassing "Oh shit this hurts, I have Udon soup in my lungs" kind of way.

    I did what my mom taught me at an early age, put your arms up "so big". 

    So there I was, red faced, choking, and giving the international sign for a touchdown to my anonymous co-workers. 

    Touchdown Cleveland.  If only for a weekend, it's about f'n time.

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