I'm Back - With Raging Lust for the Dreamboat

Only the news delivered by my beloved fellow blogger Captain Caveman that Tom Brady is single again could get this screaming fangirl back on the blogger train. I've been spending most of my time writing about the Titans over at the aol fanhouse, but I think we all know that it ain't Vince Young that gets my knickers in a twist.
As cliche as it is, I do love me some Tom Brady. And now that he single again, I'm going to being "Operation Siobhan's Shock and Awe."
Not sure exactly what that entails yet, but I'll keep you posted.
Oh -- and look for pictures from my trip tp Kentucky (my native state) that include me with the world's biggest bat, me with fake Barbaro ("you cannot read this...") and me loving up on a barrel on Maker's Mark in typically classy Siobhan fashion.
Hooray, Bourbon!

Countdown to Faceoff

Now that the Capitals have opened the season it is time to completely erase any memory of tonight's game and look forward to Saturday night. I haven't been inside Verizon Center since April 28th, and I haven't seen a hockey game there since even before that. So to say that I am excited would be a bit of an understatement (DC Caps Chick pretty much sums up my feelings on the return of hockey).

Now the only issue is: What to do before the game? My friend (who will be experiencing only the second hockey game of his life) has work and won't arrive until right before game time, but I fully intend to put a few alcoholic beverages in me before passing into the World of $8 Beers. If there are any other Caps bloggers out there who are planning on coming downtown for any sort of pre-game festivities, let me know. There's still a comment section here, and you can also e-mail oppossum-palooza@hotmail.com. Or just look for me there, I'll be the guy drinking by himself at the tiny Thai-Mexican fusion joint below the movie theater until five minutes before game time. They have just the most fascinating bar stools.

Hooray, Beer!

Hello all you DC Sportsbloggers.
It's time for another Happy Hour.
Blissfully, this time we'll be in Washington, at Stetson's , located at 1610 U St NW - more importantly, 3 small blocks from my house - for easier stumbling home.
This Thursday the 21st, 7:00ish.
Added bonus? You get to make fun of me for my shitty alma mater's football team. UVa plays Ga. Tech that night. Wahoowa, indeed. Pfft.

Another O-P Field Trip - With Booze, Of Course

As some folks around here know, I am a fan of Rugby in general and the New Zealand All-Blacks in particular. Jonah Lomu has long been my Rugby boyfriend. It has come to my attention that there is a fund-raiser this weekend involving, from the press release, "a traditional Irish breakfast, Kiwi meat pies and assorted beverages." (yum). The beneficiary is Alexandria Rugby, an organization that indoctrinates the small-fries into the love of this violently beautiful game.
The event is a televised viewing of the Tri-Nations rugby match between the New Zealand All Blacks and the South Africa Springboks as a fundraiser on Saturday, September 2, 9:00 AM, at O'Connell's Restaurant and Bar in Old Town, Alexandria. There is no charge for entry and all proceeds benefit Alexandria Rugby.

So if the above picture of the two gentleman in black crushing the little Springbok in green intrigues, or even (as it does for me) excites you, please join me to eat, drink and talk shit about a sport hardly any American cares about (Biff's note: My favorite kind of sport). Oh, come on, it'll make you feel all superior.

And if the game itself isn't enough, you should come for the Haka alone. Awesomely fearsome tradition.

Thanks a lot, Pacman

I announced yesterday on this here blog that I am now a Titans fan. Apparently, my boy Pacman Jones heard the momentous news and went out to celebrate. In Mufreesboro, TN. I've been to Mufreesboro. I'm not sure why anyone would go out there, let alone an NFL football player. Tennessee is a tough place to get your drunk on, apparently.
Turns out Pacman mistakenly thought he was playing for the Bengals this year and went and got himself all likkered up and belligerent. And arrested.
It's gonna be a banner year for my maiden voyage as a Titans fan.

The accompanying image was chosen entirely for the benefit of my drunken-kitty-loving friends. If you know what I mean. And I think you do.

WHO DEY, My Sweet Ass

I am in a quest to decide which team to back in the NFL. I have a passing interest in the Patriots that I inherited from one particular boyfriend (Biff's Note: In the pantheon of STDs, this ranks somewhere between herpes and scabies), but it's not enough to get me excited about the impending NFL season. So I’m trying to be open-minded about which team fits me best, but after Sunday night’s debacle, I will say with great certainty that I can never, ever cheer for the Cincinnati Bengals.

The evening started innocuously enough, with a lovely dinner at a local oyster bar. I then joined a party of my friends at a bar off Dupont Circle. When I walked in, I noticed a huge din coming from the bar area. And there, in all his glory, was the hugest “Who Dey” Bengals fan I have ever seen in the flesh. Dressed in full Bengals regalia from head to foot, including some ersatz cowboy hat in orange and black stripes (Halloween castoff, perchance?) Wait, does anyone remember that wave-doing, Griffey jersey-wearing, glove-in-the-500-section retard at RFK? He was wearing a cowboy hat too. Is there something about Cincinnati and assholes in cowboy hats? Okay, right, back to my story. This in a bar near Dupont Circle, where the demographic looked like this: 50% desperate alcoholics, 50% gay men. The best analogy I can think of is that it is the equivalent of the Island of Misfit Toys. Needless to say, no one there was paying much attention to the game at all. Even the inveterate sports fans among us (myself included) were watching the game in a slightly passing fashion.

His over-reaction to every single play by the Bengals left me wanting, more than anything, to punch him in his fat, drunken face. Then the coup de grace of douchebaggery: he cheered loudly and for an extended period of time when Clinton Portis was injured. Let me be clear. I am by no means a Redskins fan, but all right-thinking sports fans want Portis in his finest form and cheering for his demise is beyond the pale. Then he drunkenly accosted two unsuspecting Japanese tourists who will now have a great story about big, smelly Americans to tell the folks back home. Soon thereafter he broke a barstool with his fat three-way chili eating-ass and was (mercifully) asked to leave.

So the long and short of it is that I am still in the market for an NFL team. I only know that it can’t be the Bengals, despite an admittedly catchy tune from Bootsy Collins.

"Get Your Red On"

As promised, the O-P team attended Friday night's Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Stadium Grand Reopening Red Carpet Extravaganza. Needless to say, we arrived late like the quality journalists that we are. We walked past the inflatable wonderland that was the Nats' Fan Zone on East Capitol Street and arrived at the red carpet just in time to hear the fireworks that accompany "rockets' red glare" during the national anthem. Unlike other nights, though, the anthem was also accompanied by a flyover and a bevy of fireworks at the end of the song as well. (Biff's theory: Extra unused "Nats Win!" fireworks.) Standing in line waiting for tickets, we were at least able to see, via television screen in the Team Store, the first pitch being thrown out by the "US Armed Services" (whatever that means).

Upon entering the stadium, we were each handed a (surprisingly good quality) red "W" baseball cap (sponsored by Tickets.com). (Siobhan's Note: These hats smelled like what I remember Wal*Mart smells like: shoddy workmanship and cheap child-labor) After finding our way to our seats (we entered the seating bowl to the tune of Ridin' Dirty, thanks in no small part to Ryan Zimmerman), the rest of the evening proceeded more or less as usual.

As far as the "improvements", a quick rundown of the concourse by Biff found very little to get excited about (Siobhan's Note: Burrito Brothers is next to Section 120, if you're interested - and I think you are.)

All in all, it was a pretty exciting evening, but the fact of the matter is, nothing will do it justice like pictures. Pictures are what you need, and pictures are what you'll get. As soon as we figure out how to make our computers work.

Siobhan's Note: There is still a shockingly small number of beer vendors in the 500-level seats; Budweiser was in troublingly short supply. Cotton candy more your thing? (If it is, I have no idea why you're reading this blog, by the way) I saw roughly 5 vendors of the cloyingly sweet confection to every beer vendor.

Wee! An RFK fieldtrip!

Tomorrow night marks the "Grand Re-opening" of RFK Stadium and the Washington Nationals here in Washington, and we here at the Opossum-Palooza would be remiss if we failed to cover the "event". Thus, we will be attending tomorrow night's game and reporting on all the exciting goings-on. You can expect a full report on the new and improved RFK (if not a new and improved team) sometime over the weekend. There may even be pictures.

Siobhan's note: What with the steam-cleaned concourse and the large-headed presidential mascots running the bases, it may be too much excitement for me.
Any and all are welcome to join us. If you want a piece of the action, email me: bosoxsiobhan(at)gmail.com - I promise not to get as drunk as I was at the Deadspin field trip. Saturday is my old man's birthday, which means happy fun family day in VA. That'll be bad enough without a raging gin-based hangover

DC Sports Bloggers Happy Hour

Just wanted to point this out, since hardly anyone reads blogs devoted to hockey.

Not that many people read this one, since it's a lot of hockey. But still...