Poot's Palace

I imagine no one really expected a blog about a baseball player when it is the start of college hoops and end of college football. I was reading the sports news today read that Barry Bonds wanted to play in the World Baseball Classic in March 2006, of course there are a few details to work out and a "nagging knee injury that must heal". Did he ever have knee surgery, or did the doctor prescribe a lot of rest? In order to help his knee problems, he is going to lose 30 pounds to take some pressure off of his legs. How convenient. Here is my take on Barry Bonds. He was a rabid steroid user since the late 90's. Compare old baseball cards. His rookie season a stiff breeze could have knocked him over. He was a little bigger during the nineties, but that comes with age and a regimented workout program. Lates 90's into the 2000's he bulked up like David Banner getting really pissed off. The steroid scandal hits and baseball players are getting busted left and right, including a few big time stars. Bonds, being the nigger that he is, didnt want to jeopardized his shot at stealing the home run record from Hank Aaron. So he lays out of baseball with a supposed knee injury to let the 'roids work through his system so he wont test positive when he returns. What happens when steroid users quit juicing, they shrink, hence the reason he has decided to lose 30 pounds. He didnt decided to do it, he couldnt keep his weight and muscle mass up without juicing, so that his is lame ass excuse. Ask his wife how big his nuts were when they first met compared to right now. It'd be like comparing a Brazilian Nut (also known to many southerners as "Nigger Toes") to a raisin.

Two weeks on the spot... yet I still remain in the Penalty Box. Agent Orange is not keeping his end of the bargain. I have been in the penalty box for well over a month now, yet have posted blogs within the two week time period. I hereby call a boycott of Agent Orange.

Ya caught the tater. I have been thrown back into the penalty box by Agent Orange. Just wanted to keep him on his toes. I too had a weekend much like Wha, only I was not threatened to be thrown out of Tiger Town (of course, I never made it to Tiger Town either). After a very stressful week at work, I poured a stiff Jack and Coke while packing on Friday afternoon... that was pretty much the end of me until Sunday afternoon. I opted not to drive to Clemson myself, rather bum a ride from Wha and kiwi, and drink several Jack and Coke's on the way down. I was feeling just right upon arrival to Clemson. Had dinner at Monterrey's which took forever. At one point I asked the hostess to find our waiter cause I was drunk and hungry and ready to eat. She actually asked me "what did he look like?", and my response was "he is mexican, they all look the same to me". Some how, he appeared instanteously at our table. Again the bill took forever to arrive so I threw my credit card at someone and told them to ring up our table. We proceed, I think, to the Esso Club and there are some pictures of me at a new bar called 356??? I was told that when I got to the apartment where I was staying I fell up the stairs and announced to everyone (who was already asleep for who knows how long) that I was drunk and fell up the stairs (they didnt seem to happy with me when I met them the next day). I woke up saturday morning and stumbled to the shower, realizing that I was still drunk from the night before. Nevertheless, I arrived at the tailgate promptly at 7:45 and poured another Jack and Coke (whats that saying about the hair of the dog). After the game I watched Wha chug the backend of a bottle Jack and drool all over himself, being his roommate and not wanting to be held accountable for his actions, I got the hell out of there and wished everyone else "good luck with him tonight". Back to my tailgate and back to the liqour. I drank some more and headed back to The Esso club, not sure how long I stayed or at what point we left for Zaxby's, but the last thing i remember was chugging a Budweiser on a dusty road yelling to everyone, "This is how I am going to die, a lonely old man on a dusty road, chuggin a budweiser", OK, I dont really remember doing this, but there are pictures to prove it. After a lengthy discussion with my two baby sitters about how trips to the ATM i made over the course of the weekend, i realized on sunday afternoon that they were in fact correct and i was wrong. But i had no receipts to prove my withdrawals, oh yeah, i dont get receipts at the ATM. I thought they were going to shoot me at that point. I woke up sunday morning and Kate says to me, " Oberg, this is the first time that I have seen you sober all weekend... i chuckled, then I wondered to myself, did I do anything stupid over the weekend?". The answer to this question is YES. My phone was proof that I made several phone calls and sent many vulgar messages to numerous individuals. I only wonder what i did in person. I hope i still have friends in Clemson. The lyrics to The Marshall Tucker band kept coming to mind, "I'm gonna find me a hole in the wall, I’m gonna crawl inside and die".