Team Bro-down tales, volume I

16 May

This is a completely irrelevant story and possibly a bit embarrassing to the story’s subject, so I am going to be brief and keep the friend’s name anonymous to minimize any potential humiliation. (Though, I’m sure you’ll agree, the following anecdote should be retold by the offender with great pride rather than shame. But just in case.)

Two Fridays ago, the fellas and I had an increasingly rare Guys’ Night Out, which we affectionately call “Team Bro-down,” because we are idiots and think it is funny.

During this night out, we went to The Bulldog for some heavy beers, shuffleboard, sports-watching, surprise dick-tap attacks, burp contests, noogies, smoking Cloves, Sea Breezes, arguing over our favorite baby names, arm-in-arm singalongs of “I Am Beautiful” … you know, typical guy stuff.

As the night progressed, a few of us ended up imbibing a lot … A LOT … more than planned. As in, bordering near blackout status. Near the end of the evening, we were standing outside trying to decide whether we should head to a new bar. My friend, who we will call Tipsy VonLoudMouth, set his almost-finished beer on a table near us. A few seconds later, a server walked by and picked up Tipsy’s glass to bring to the kitchen, erroneously thinking Tipsy was done with said beer.

Now, in this situation, most of us would either (a) tell the server to please leave the glass there, or (b) shrug and let it go. Tipsy did neither of these things.

Instead, he decided to – and I have no idea what sort of wild demon temporarily invaded his body to cause such an insanely random outburst – he turned to the waiter and raised his arms in typical “scary monster with claws” fashion and loudly roared at him. Like, the way you scare kids when you jump from behind a door or something. Just claw-hands and a loud, extended “RAAWWWRRRRRR!!!!!” with his teeth bared like a wild animal.

Life went in slow motion for a few moments during the drawn-out scream as everyone on the patio slowly turned simultaneously dropped their jaws in awestruck delight. Tipsy does not remember doing this (neither can I, actually; this was reported to us from another TB member) and can offer no answer to why he behaved in this manner.

After Tipsy concluded his thunderous howl and slowly returned his arms to his side,  the server set the beer back down and scurried away, no doubt to call the insane asylum to ask to get the paddy wagon sent over right away. As for Team Bro-down, we got the hell out of Dodge immediately after the surreal outburst. The end.

Like I said, no real point to this post, besides the retelling of one of my favorite recent stories. Plus, I highly recommend doing the monster move if you are ever trying to liven up a night out. Jaw-dropped satisfaction gua-ran-teed.


5 Responses to “Team Bro-down tales, volume I”

  1. RandBall's Stu May 17, 2010 at 7:18 am #

    I think all right-minded readers would agree that the only truly offensive behavior recited above was the smoking of Cloves. Total dick move.

  2. Dave MN May 18, 2010 at 8:26 am #

    Wow, I wish that had been the night that I’d gone to The Bulldog. Which one, Uptown/Northeast/St.Paul?

  3. Murph May 18, 2010 at 5:58 pm #

    Team Bro Down seems great…How do I join?

  4. Cool Rut May 20, 2010 at 2:29 pm #

    Murph-if you are part of the next Team Bro Down-how you going to top “scary monster with claws”? I say you give the wait staff the full papa smurf moon.

  5. B. May 21, 2010 at 7:52 am #

    No vacancies, Murph. We’ll keep your resume on file in case anything opens up. Don’t call us, we’ll call you blah blah blah that’s how you run a joke into the ground.

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