Well, another year, another Clambake.  Brief Highlights:

After arriving at Manchester, I started my weekend off on the right foot by pounding a number of beers at the Smutty Nose in the airport.  Thoroughly primed, I hitched a ride with Throat (who once again had a “don’t hook up with Throat” speech given in his honor by the ladies team).  Since by this point it was dark, I put my sunglasses on (people who wear sunglasses at night are cool).  Off to Bowdoin to play golf with 40s, 21 cup pong, and beer die.  I’m 90% certain that I won every single game I played and am 100% sure that I lost Futureman’s disc while playing golf.  Wedge —> Red Brick House couch.

Day one of the tournament:  Our first game was against DOG, fresh off their win at Worlds.  We did predictably poorly as they used the “We’re extremely old and embarrassingly good at ultimate” play, a lot.  However, Rodeo did sky Parinella twice, so that had to be fun.  Then we had a bye, which I used to good effect to hit on the women’s team and drink a 40.  The next game was a thoroughly forgettable trouncing at the hand of Run Silent Run Deep and finally got to the most important game of the day: OFC vs. Stoned Clown.  And boy did we kick the shit out of them, earning a win for the alumni for the first time since 2003.  The game was never in question, as we rolled to a 5-1 lead and never looked back.  The lesson is, as always, Chauncey sucks.  Afterwards, OFC celebrated by going to China Rose (never a bad decision) and getting temporary tattoos.

Then off to the party, Dougie, Capt. Jack, and myself piled into a car with Wiggum who DDed for us.  To repay him we played Carmina Burana roughly 30 times in a row and kept increasing the volume, while he bitched about it.  The party itself was tamer then normal, despite the best efforts of Dutch, who spearheaded at least 6 boat races in the opening half hour (all of which were won by my team, mostly because I’m a tank) then promptly wondering off to die.  Anyway, after that not much happened.  I ate a lobster, Capt. Jack did a landshark and trapped some unwitting girl underneath, about 30 people vomited on the way home, and Wiggum made a sophomore cry by being so pathetic.  At the end of the night I some how ended up in Howell (the chem-free house) passed out and pants-less on the couch, amazing considering that I know no one who lives in Howell.  The winner of the night was probably Konen, who was last observed unconscious in a chair at Red Brick and was never seen again (for serious, he never showed up for the second days games and no one knows where he went).

The second day started with a typically lackluster effort as Mary K8 and I led a bunch of rookie bitches to a mistake filled and depressing loss to Red Tired (who were, of course, typically ass-o-holic).  After picking up some additional Clown and regaining our full alumni strength, we beat RPI in a tough game and ended up winning the consolation bracket by forfeit.  Yay us!

So in all, decent bake, lot’s of fun seeing everyone.

Continuing my movie review odyssey:

Movie #3 Eurotrip (2004)

Okay, so I actually watched this movie before Clambake so I really don’t remember all that much.  Hence, short review.  Surprisingly good dumb-teenage comedy.  However, the movie is majorly handicapped by the actor who plays the comic relief best friend, he sucked.  Had his delivery been decent (seriously he butchers an absurd number of decent lines) this could have been a Van Wilder quality dumb comedy (in fact Ryan Reynolds would have been perfect as the comic relief).  Oh well and alas, I’d say this is worth a watch if it’s on TV but I wouldn’t go out of my way.

Movie #4 The Awful Truth (1937)

A romantic comedy in the vein of The Philadelphia Story where a divorced/soon to be divorced couple who still love each other try to screw with each others post divorce love life.  The always awesome Cary Grant, playing basically the same character he did in a million of these movies (His Girl Friday comes immediately to mind) does the whole “brutally insult the dull new boyfriend” thing with great success, although the film lacks the great chemistry between Grant and his female lead (in this case Irene Dunne) that really makes Philadelphia Story and His Girl Friday (one of my all time favorites) classics.  Overall, however, it’s a pretty good, if minor, screwball comedy.  Anyway, if you’re into the genre it’s worth a rental, if not, I’d avoid it.

Maybe another movie post soon (possibly as soon as tonight)