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The clock's ticking down the final seconds and I'm at the bar inside the Fox Sports Grill. 16, 15, 14, 13 ... I'm yelling and waving my hands, next to my brother fresh off of work for the third period of the seventh game of the Stanley Cup Finals. I've been there since 4:20pm - it felt like a Guiness kind of night - holding down two stools, for Mark and Colin, who arrived at 5 and 6pm respectively. Detroit has the puck, down 2-1 - having just scored their first goal mere minutes before - in the Pittsburgh end of the ice, with an empty net behind them. Frantically, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, Detroit's trying to get the puck in a position to take a clean shot, 7, 6, CLANG, off the cross bar of the net, 5, 4, working the puck back around, 3, 2, 1 ...

We leave right after the game, my brother to go home, the rest of us to another bar. We drink, we laugh, we cry, we fight, we wrestle, we make up, we move on.

I make it home around midnight or so with a rumbley in my tumbley. At this point in our fair evening, I have had 5 Guinesses, probably two Jack & Coke's, and probably three Vitamin C shots (which is, like, vodka, red bull, and orange juice if I'm not mistaken). From 4:20 to midnight. Including a big ol' burger and fries at the Fox Sports Grill and a fairly long walk from South Lake Union to 2nd and Stewart.

We have no food in our apartment. Jack In The Box is just a short drive down the hill.

I'm by no means drunk at this point, but am I under .08? Plus, in this neck of Beacon Hill/SoDo, there are always cops driving about.

I take the chance, hit up Jack In The Box, and by golly everything turns out great.

I'm awake at 8am after going to sleep at 1:30am. Jake shows up about an hour later and we head off to the Hurricane Cafe. After ingesting the greatest Typhoon I've ever eaten, we get to pondering what we're going to do with our afternoon. We head back to my place in hopes of latching onto a good idea. A cheap idea. An idea that isn't too far away from my home base. Anything at or beyond the UW is out because it's Graduation Saturday. Downtown is mighty unlikely because there are tons of people walking around on a sunny weekend and there are tons of ways to blow your money. I look online, trying to find a good website that has a What's Going On This Weekend section. No luck. Turns out, NOTHING is going on in Seattle this weekend. So, I throw out two ideas: batting cages or throw around the crappy $10 football I got at K-Mart. We choose football, and a mile-long walk down to Jefferson Park.

When we get there, we find that they've got some sort of cricket game going on amongst some female Mexicans. Intrigued, we decide to stay and watch for a while. Eventually, we feel we've picked up enough of the intricacies of the game to at least feel we haven't wasted our time, then we get to the actual tossing around of the football.

On the walk back, we decide what we want to do for lunch. In involves pasta and vegetables and a whole lotta sauce. We sit around, eat, watch some Married With Children marathon on TV Land. Nate comes home, we get donuts at the Delite Bakery, Jake leaves, and I leave a half hour later.

Tacoma. Bowling. I arrive at my dad's, have a light dinner, and wait for my brother and his girlfriend to get there. At around 9pm, they do, and we go.

Beer and bowling and bowling and beer. We buy four games, and then we buy an hour on two lanes, cross-bowling. Non-stop bowling. We probably got 5 games in that one hour between the three of us. Craziness. We get back, watch Falling Down starring Michael Douglas, drink some more beer, and cap the night with pizza before hitting the sack at 3am.

Awake at 1pm when my dad gets back from Port Townsend. I eat a lunch and go to Tower to pre-bowl for this week. I bowl like utter dogshit - while I bowled reasonably OK at Narrows the night before - and then we head back home for more Married With Children marathon on TV Land. Dinner at Taco Del Mar, then I'm off for Seattle to do laundry and watch House. In bed by 9pm

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