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Thursday, March 8, 2012


We came. We saw. We destroyed. I think the score was something like 37 to 1. Honestly, I have no idea what the score was at the end of our game, but I do remember several key pieces to KLJ's night of kickball domination. Let's take a stroll down memory lane, shall we? No? Well fine, screw you then; you best start sleeping with one eye open, jerk.

1. Our beloveds Kyle and Manda sacrificed a good KLJ time in order to play with their other, less awesome and 900% more serious Capital team which left the rest of us without an official clipboard holder and/or ginge. What did we do? Did we panic? Kind of. There may or may not have been several minutes of running around screaming and crying because no one knew where they were playing during which inning. Kudos to Krystal for taking on the task. I mean, not that Kyle Trazalakakalski's fool-proof squiggly grid with lopsided boxes filled with names wasn't easy to decipher...

2. I believe there was alcohol involved. At the beginning of the game our boisterous cheers were semi-coherent and fueled by love and admiration for our teammates. By perhaps the 2nd inning, our cheers were slurred and typically screamed at what might be the worst possible time. What? Are you telling Courtney "Pirate Hooker" Black and I that you aren't supposed to scream for your teammate .9 seconds before he attempts to knock one out of the park? That it can be considered "distracting" if 2 incredibly sexy ladies shrilly squeal "Let's go PRONSKYYYY!!" from the 3rd base line while spilling their beverages (obviously non-alcoholic since it is frowned upon by the establishment fo have such deliciousness on the field) at the feet of the 3rd baseman? Really? Huh, how about that. Our b...

3. The one, the only NATINA was in attendance to provide moral support and the occasional vodka-soaked feminine product.

4. There might have been some progression in the whole "learning all 47 team members' names," but I might be mistaken. Name tags are a must.

5. Kyle Woody WoodHAM was ON TIME, nay, EARLY for our game. I know, I was too impressed that he could squeeze us in between carbo-loading and bench-pressing Volkswagen Beetles.

6. The Multi-Tims were in full-blown ass-kicking mose. Yah huh, we have dos Tims who dominate the plate, in the field, and most likely can knock your socks off with a soul-stirring rendition of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," RIP Whitney. RIP.

7. Not to toot my own horn, but I (mad Maddie) managed to stay on my feet for the entire game. Well, until Captain James spun me in circles in celebration after I managed to catch a ball in the outfield with the aid of my notable gigantic bosoms. After that, it was all I could do to get the precious beer to my lips without missing my mouth completely.

8. We Tebow'd. Now, as a two-time graduate of the University of Tennessee, by law I must hate anything and everything relating to other SEC schools; however, what about a group of drunkasses in matching t-shirts Tebowing in a team huddle isn't hilarious?

9. Perhaps the most memorable (unfortunately for some) part of the evening was due to the quick hands of Jenny HAMjosa and the poorly secured pants of one Kyle WoodHAM. The patrons of Shangri-la will never be the same and, quite frankly, I personally cried myself to sleep.

And that, my dearest ladies and gentleman, is a brief overview of the night KLJ kicked the whiskey out of their opponent. Okay yes, we are typically borderline drunk before the first pitch is thrown, but you know what? I', sorry we're not sorry for being awesome. You better watch your balls Drunk Again; we're coming for you.

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