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I am SPIDERMAN.

It's 5:00 and Moose phones me up...we are going to Joey Tomato's.

Why Joeys? Because...hmmm...how to put this delicately....ever since coming back from Africa, Moose has been 5 times as horny as normal. Which means that he is now masterbating 5 times a day. The waitresses at Joey's are hot. Need I say more?

I tell Moose that I'll pick him and Garth up. Getting to Garth's place, he asks me if I'm feeling better 'cause he got the email I sent out. Pardon, I says?!?!? What email....?? Ugh. This one...I have quoted it for posterity to remind myself that I should never drink again:

Im' not goig to lie...I'[m fucking hammere.d. But I love how the Ekss won tnoniht. Aned the Riders blow . That is all....thank you, good night wdmonton, we Love hyoud.... Dave..

Ah...shit. Nothing like having proof you are a dumb ass.

Driving to Joey's was an adventure. We are at the lights on 109 and Jasper and this fucking moron runs the red light. But wait...it's Patty! Apparently having only 3 hours of sleep and then moving all day doesn't make you the most attentive of drivers!

We get to Joey's and the wait staff are pretty hot. Not as hot as my wife, mind you...but still, a close second place. While I'm certain that these girls all realize that the only reason they have been hired is for esthetics, I think that when they count up the billions of dollars a second they make in tips, they don't feel so bad. Unfortunately, the place is packed and the wait is 45 minutes long. At this point, I'm hungry enough to eat the asshole out of a skunk, so we decide to jet.

We eventually decide to walk to the Overtime. I seriously LOVE that bar. Great food, good decor...and incredibly hot older people that frequent the bar. And by older, I mean the 25 - 35 crowd. Sigh...growing up sucks after a while. Highballs are $2 and we go to town. Eventually our waitress asks us just what the hell we are doing, sitting on the patio, when inside it is MS. EUROPEAN EDMONTON night. Unbelievably hot women all around us...

We grab a table inside and are immediately surrounded by pageant contestants. Now...I may be naive but I'm not an idiot. On a good night, maybe, (and I stress maybe) one of these women might say "excuse me" and she walks past us on the way to get another drink...but that would be the extent of any conversation we would have with them. So when Ashley and Maria actually sat down at our table, I KNEW that they wanted us to buy something from there. Not that I care, mind you...it's kind nice to have women introduce themselves to us for a change...but it was clear they were selling something.

Maria asks our table if we are nerds. Uh...how the fuck do you answer that question? I give her a resounding, "No, no I am not...but I can't speak for the rest of 'em"? "Too bad", she replies, "because I think nerds are hot".

Wait...Maria...I take that back. I play the odd computer games. I actually READ the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I thought Beavis and Butthead were actually pretty funny....

In the end, I know that her comment was a thinly veiled shot against us...but what could we do? Moose is drooling like an idiot, and Houle and Garth are into it as well.

Then starts the game. You see, Moose tells Ashley that he'll buy a $30 ticket to the final pageant if she can convince Pratch, Patty, and Bissel (sitting at another table) to buy one as well. So she saunters over to their table and solicits them... Being the men that they are, they refer her back to us and she asks to "speak to the captain of the Canadian Ski Team" (Houle).

We reply that we really don't have a lot of money...Canadian Amateur Athletes don't make a lot of coin...but we point out that Pratch is a lawyer and Patty is an accountant with boat loads of cash. I think I see the dollar signs flashing in her eyes...and she once again makes a bee-line for their table. she MAY have been wearing a micro mini skirt...but I'm not really paying attention. I'm immune to stuff like that.

Patty and Greg look over at us with the evil eye...and I'm waiting for one of them to knife us. The rest of us, of course, are doubled over in laughter. There is no denying that a lawyer and an accountant aren't going to be able to convince this chick that they don't have the $30...

Finally Ashley comes back to our table, this time directly to me, and asks whether or not the MBA student wants to purchase a ticket. Oh shit...she got me good, fucker...

Luckily, I have a back up plan. The pageant is on the 10th of September and I have a ball tourney. But I give her my most sympathetic (fake) voice and lie to her, saying "That's too bad, Ashley, that I can't make it...'cause I really wanted to come for sure! And I'd vote for you, 'cause you seem like a nice and sincere person".

Eventually I get sick of this mindless back and forth. So I go up to the bar in time to see Amber Taylor's fiancee laying on the bar with whip cream in his belly button, with his guy friends lifting random chicks, making each of these women lick the whip cream. These incredibly hot cougars at the bar use this opportunity to slide up next to me at the bar. I pretend not to notice their penetrating gaze which is directed to my groin region. I pretend to ignore them...but am forced to respond when one of them asks if I'm "with" the whip-cream crowd. I explain that I know the guy, but that I'm not with that group. And because I have zero interest in the wares they were peddling, I give them the cold shoulder and they leave...

I had to make it clear that I would not be their prey for the evening.

As I'm waiting for my beer at the bar -- damn, it's taking a long time -- this blonde taps me on the shoulder. She is way to young and way too good looking. You get the sense immediately that she is "that girl" at the bar. You know...the one that NEVER has to buy a drink 'cause guys are falling all over themselves to do it for her?

She asks me -- and I quote -- "Are you shy? Because normally guys want to talk to me and I'm trying to get your attention". I roll my eyes and sigh to myself. She is as tranparent as a sheet of glass...but I don't want to be a complete ass, so I introduce myself. She explains to me how this is the first time she has been in the Overtime...but she really likes it over Whyte Ave 'cause -- and again I quote -- "all the guys I have met here are much more sophisticated and hot and it's really nice to have met you".

Then, I shit you not, she blinked twice and glanced shyly at the ground. It was like a move out of any romance movie ever made! Argh....why is this happening? First the cougars and now her...dammit, I wear my wedding ring proudly for all to see...

At this time, I feel it appropriate to quote one of my favorite movies. Not everyone is meant to make a difference. But for me, the choice to lead an ordinary life is no longer an option. With great power comes great responsibility. Who am I? I'm Spiderman.

But I know that she wasn't into me...it just happened that I had flashed a roll of twenties when paying for my drink; and hers was empty. I brush off her blatant advances and explain how I love this bar and used to go to it more when I lived down town. But now that ME AND MY WIFE bought a house, I don't make it out as much as I like.

This girl apologizes. Lamely mentions how she wasn't trying to hit on me. Uh-huh...right. She leaves my side in all of 3 seconds there after. WOW...COMPLETELY like a guy in many respects...so this is what we look like, hey ladies?

Way to soon, we leave Overtime. Not by my choice and not by Moose's. Apparently, the guys I was with have an issue with mingling with hot women. So we head to the Stone House and the place is fucking dead. And of the handful of people in there, most of 'em are guys. Moose starts to cry and wants to go back to the Overtime. The night is then filled with Jager Bomb after Jager Bomb. At $35 a pop for a round of 7 drinks, lets just say it gets very expensive very fast.
But we also get blitzed out of our minds.

I start calling everyone in the country. Namely, Sanchu and Chad... I have to bug the shit out of Chewie 'cause the Riders shit the bed. But oddly, I get no answer...just voicemail. I hope mi amigo didn't throw himself off a bridge in suicide last night.

Cori calls. She is in Kelowna packing up her shit from her house...but there is a problem. She had to be evacuated 'cause the mountain her house is on is on fire! I hope they were able to save the house; I'll have more details tomorrow. Suddenly, my comment of "Unit 92, Unit 92 ... do you require my assistance" is not as funny...

Finally, the night begins to wind down...but Moose still wants to pick up. Pickings are very slim, and amazingly enough, his dirty jeans and t-shirt look isn't winning him many points...so he does the next best thing and hit on the rudest pigs in the whole bar. ** SHUDDER **

I ask Moose if he REALLY wants to do this. "Fuck off, Muley...you are married to a hottie and can get laid anytime you want. I'm not so lucky".

Okay then. I was a wing man...and I had to choke back the puke. At the end of the night, Moose got into a cab with these ... women (if they were, in fact, female). He called me the next morning to explain that by some grace of god he didn't get laid...even though he tried.

I will end this entry with a promise to my friend. I WILL PAY FOR THE GOD DAMNED HOOKER...JUST NEVER TALK TO WOMEN THAT DIRTY AGAIN.

posted by Team Shawn Michaels @ 10:33 a.m.