94 Warriors at MNF
Being that it's been months since I've been on Blogger, I shall share my last post from myspace.com/94warriorsstudios. Add a brotha if you will... if I have any readers left. All the info is on my MySpace. Enjoy
122607
1823 Hours
The Battle River DVD has finally been sent for mass production. After months of tinkering, I believe it is ready. Though it was initially thought it would be out 12.4.07, it was just not possible. So it was sent today, should get word by the end of the week and hopefully a few weeks after that it will be ready for public consumption. FINALLY!
Christmas came and went with minimal damage to the wallet. Grandmother spoiled the kids, which was fine by me, and I only had to get the supporting supplies for their new toys. What would this world be like with out Eve B.?
Did you see me on Monday Night Football against Da Bears?! Me, Dust, and Kev went thanks to Kev's ball skills. (The b-ball skills that helped the 94 Warriors return to Crookston and cemented it as the greatest class to ever roam the halls of Red Lake High School! WHAT?!) So I had to sell was what left of my doobies at rock-bottom prices in order to buy the ticket ASAP (Honestly, I had to borrow money from my sister until payday. I figured that sellin' doobs sounded a lot cooler so I could keep my thug life/street cred if in fact I had any to begin with.)
First stop was StaMart where my man, Kev is banned until the end of time, to gas up. After Dust filled up the car, he came out with a burrito and I immediately knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant 240 miles to the Hunter Hearst Helmsley Metrodome. We were off… to Burger King, where I would establish my fatness. While the guys lightly ordered off the dollar menu, I did my thang and ordered a Whopper with cheese/no onions meal to their finger food, thus making me feel super fat. But that's how I roll.
So after getting to the point of feeling like Ralphie's little brother Randy in The Christmas Story after his mom got him bundled up to go to school, like a tick ready to burst due to overindulging on the King's finest frozen patty, guess who got to drive the remainder of the trip? The only 94 Warrior with a license, that's who?! Dang! So much for the USA Today and issues 9, 10, 11, and 12 of Jason Aaron's Scalped. Tales of the Prairie Rose Indian Reservation and Dash Bad Horse will have to wait another day. With Chili Peppers and an occasional AC/DC blasting (and when I say blasting, I mean I was almost ready to panic and "pull this goddam car over!) thru the tiny speakers of Vera KB's Taurus, to the "Cids" we went.
As 71 turned to 64 and 64 into 10, conversations of nothing very important fought hard to pierce thru the 90's hard rock icons reverberating throughout the vehicle en route to MNF. One of those topics was weddings, as in I wondered aloud how many Kev had been a part of. A dozen, I believe was the answer.
"Are you f*****' serious?!" was my reply.
"Yup. Giin dash?" Kev asked back.
"Including my own?"
"Yea."
"One."
I need to make new friends. Seriously. I need to wear a tux at least one more time and hopefully make a Costanza toast.
The usual Royalton stop (at least for me) for a little evacuation comes and goes with us a little male visual entertainment periodical heavier. Tiny Fey interview + Adrienne Curry in the nude = awesome for the intellectual pervs in attendance.
A right to Clear Lake for the left to get on 94 (94 Warriors? Destiny, baby!), and we were minutes closer to MNF.
Pulling into the Cities, it seems like everyone was trying to get off Manhattan because it was going to be quarantined like in "I Am Legend." Traffic was at a stand-still. I'm frightened Auntie Em! It was my first experience in game-time traffic and I was ready to just jump out of the car and walk home, but the promise of "All Day" running over Urlacher and by Hester kept me truckin'.
Finally made it to parking by the Target Center and I begin to think my buds were sippin' on the hooch all the way down here. Not Kevin Alan Kingbird and the DustMob! No way, Jose'!
So after Kev cleans out his stomach lining with puke or 10, but not before leaving some on his shirt for good measure, it was off to yet another of my first-evers: a train ride to the Triple H. Again, I'm starting to feel like Dr. Robert Neville. I don't think I've mentioned that I hate people, so it was super-uncomfortable for the CEO.
The End.
The next part coming when time permits. Who wants more?
122607
1823 Hours
The Battle River DVD has finally been sent for mass production. After months of tinkering, I believe it is ready. Though it was initially thought it would be out 12.4.07, it was just not possible. So it was sent today, should get word by the end of the week and hopefully a few weeks after that it will be ready for public consumption. FINALLY!
Christmas came and went with minimal damage to the wallet. Grandmother spoiled the kids, which was fine by me, and I only had to get the supporting supplies for their new toys. What would this world be like with out Eve B.?
Did you see me on Monday Night Football against Da Bears?! Me, Dust, and Kev went thanks to Kev's ball skills. (The b-ball skills that helped the 94 Warriors return to Crookston and cemented it as the greatest class to ever roam the halls of Red Lake High School! WHAT?!) So I had to sell was what left of my doobies at rock-bottom prices in order to buy the ticket ASAP (Honestly, I had to borrow money from my sister until payday. I figured that sellin' doobs sounded a lot cooler so I could keep my thug life/street cred if in fact I had any to begin with.)
First stop was StaMart where my man, Kev is banned until the end of time, to gas up. After Dust filled up the car, he came out with a burrito and I immediately knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant 240 miles to the Hunter Hearst Helmsley Metrodome. We were off… to Burger King, where I would establish my fatness. While the guys lightly ordered off the dollar menu, I did my thang and ordered a Whopper with cheese/no onions meal to their finger food, thus making me feel super fat. But that's how I roll.
So after getting to the point of feeling like Ralphie's little brother Randy in The Christmas Story after his mom got him bundled up to go to school, like a tick ready to burst due to overindulging on the King's finest frozen patty, guess who got to drive the remainder of the trip? The only 94 Warrior with a license, that's who?! Dang! So much for the USA Today and issues 9, 10, 11, and 12 of Jason Aaron's Scalped. Tales of the Prairie Rose Indian Reservation and Dash Bad Horse will have to wait another day. With Chili Peppers and an occasional AC/DC blasting (and when I say blasting, I mean I was almost ready to panic and "pull this goddam car over!) thru the tiny speakers of Vera KB's Taurus, to the "Cids" we went.
As 71 turned to 64 and 64 into 10, conversations of nothing very important fought hard to pierce thru the 90's hard rock icons reverberating throughout the vehicle en route to MNF. One of those topics was weddings, as in I wondered aloud how many Kev had been a part of. A dozen, I believe was the answer.
"Are you f*****' serious?!" was my reply.
"Yup. Giin dash?" Kev asked back.
"Including my own?"
"Yea."
"One."
I need to make new friends. Seriously. I need to wear a tux at least one more time and hopefully make a Costanza toast.
The usual Royalton stop (at least for me) for a little evacuation comes and goes with us a little male visual entertainment periodical heavier. Tiny Fey interview + Adrienne Curry in the nude = awesome for the intellectual pervs in attendance.
A right to Clear Lake for the left to get on 94 (94 Warriors? Destiny, baby!), and we were minutes closer to MNF.
Pulling into the Cities, it seems like everyone was trying to get off Manhattan because it was going to be quarantined like in "I Am Legend." Traffic was at a stand-still. I'm frightened Auntie Em! It was my first experience in game-time traffic and I was ready to just jump out of the car and walk home, but the promise of "All Day" running over Urlacher and by Hester kept me truckin'.
Finally made it to parking by the Target Center and I begin to think my buds were sippin' on the hooch all the way down here. Not Kevin Alan Kingbird and the DustMob! No way, Jose'!
So after Kev cleans out his stomach lining with puke or 10, but not before leaving some on his shirt for good measure, it was off to yet another of my first-evers: a train ride to the Triple H. Again, I'm starting to feel like Dr. Robert Neville. I don't think I've mentioned that I hate people, so it was super-uncomfortable for the CEO.
The End.
The next part coming when time permits. Who wants more?
posted by Jonny R. at 3:19 PM
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