Manly Cards

Ryan, Adam, Fong? Your Ladies Are Pissed at You.

By: Adam Vagley

 

This past weekend, the Manly Cards partners gathered in Virginia Beach for the nuptials of Big Ween, the younger (and much larger) brother of Jerry. As I’ve previously huddled, when we’re all together we have a penchant for hitting each other which grows more pronounced as we consume alcohol. You would think that at a wedding we would behave ourselves but sadly this is not the case. For this reason, I spent much of the reception protecting my crotch.

 

The evening started off tame enough. We arrived at the reception on the top floor of a hotel with our wives/fiancés/girlfriends and stood around with drinks and hors d’ouvres, telling stories and maintaining the peace. But once dinner was over and everyone made their way from the dinner tables to the dance floor and open bar, it was a given that things would head downhill. The fifth round of Bourbon shots was probably the tipping point for us.

Ryan made it a point to hit Fong in the solar plexus and Stew started smacking people in the nuts. This started a domino effect and we all started hitting each other in the nuts, or the stomach, or the kidneys, or the arm, or the leg – pretty much whatever was left exposed. At a certain point, everyone was standing around talking in a circle with one hand over his crotch and another protecting his stomach.

 

Meanwhile, our significant others, who just wanted to dance and have a good time, decided we were Neanderthals and wanted nothing to do with us. “You guys are retarded,” was a frequently heard refrain.

 

At 10:30 the reception officially ended. As the lights came on and people began to leave, we made our way to a table full of cookies to grab a couple for the road. But then Ryan pounded a cookie into Jerry’s hand, which just restarted everything. With the venue mostly cleared out we now had space to maneuver. Ryan and John faced off trying to kick each other, circling each other like boxers, and Ryan started keeping people away by lashing out with face height roundhouse kicks.

 

Jerry stumbled into the bride’s mom after dodging an attack. His wife, who was standing nearby, saw it and immediately yelled at him to go apologize. By the time Jerry weaved over to where the mom was standing, she was engaged in a conversation. Jerry waved in her face until he got her attention, then slurred he “was sorry for running into her” and added, pointing at us, that “those assholes made me do it.” Somehow Jerry then ended up on the floor in a fetal position, with us kicking him.

 

The girls, who couldn’t believe our behavior, told us it was time to leave. When we got to the hotel lobby we ended up going through the hotel bar to the pool deck to say goodbye to Big Ween, who was enjoying a cigar. This accomplished, we started fighting yet again. The girls, finally fed up, left the pool deck without us. Ryan snuck behind Jerry and delivered a full-force punch to the back of his leg. Jerry punched Ryan in the jaw and we finally decided to call it quits. 

 

After bemoaning the fact that we were leaving simply because our significant others wanted us to, Ryan, Fong, and I walked through the bar towards the entrance of the hotel. Some guy stopped us and asked, “Are you Ryan, Adam, and Fong?” We said yes. “Your ladies wanted me to tell you that they’re really pissed at you.”  

 

As I write this, I’m recovering from several bruises on my forearms due to the unfortunate reality that blocking a punch with your arm is the same thing as getting punched in the arm. I also have several bruises on my leg and shin from "blocking" various punches and kicks. Ryan has a sore jaw. Fong’s nursing a sore leg from a Charlie Horse. Jerry spent Sunday limping around. We decided to immediately plan a Manly Conference so we could assault each other without getting yelled at by the women.

The Art of Slacking

By: Kristoff Von Stewartsen (KSV)

 

Work Sucks! If I didn’t slack at work, then there would be one less sweet dude in this world. So instead of committing suicide, I’ve perfected the art of slacking. If you are reading this huddle, then you are probably a sweet dude/chick so I would recommend that you listen closely to the words I have to say, because committing suicide is for losers and for Japanese kids that don’t get into good high schools.

 

Cruisin:

I would like to extend thanks to our favorite Vice President, Al Gore. Because of his invention of the Internet, we are capable of getting all of our crappy administrative tasks done on the company dime. Online banking, bill-pay, catching up on that missed episode of 30 Rock (thank you Hulu), and of course online shopping are all great ways to get some of those mundane every day tasks out of the way while at work, so when you get home you can focus all of your energy into important things like building miller light body armor for a tailgate or writing divine jams for your band.

 

Microsoft Paint:

As many of you are aware, I am level 10 Microsoft paint wizard. I didn’t end up with this high ranking without logging multiple hours of hard work. Do you know how many deadlines were missed to gain the skills necessary to draw a perfect rendition of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man? Me neither but it was probably a lot. There is no better way to impress your friends and stick it to the “Man” at the same time than by putting together tasty treats like these. PS, chicks love them.

Thinking about Lunch:

I don’t know about you guys, but I spend at least 45 minutes before lunch just thinking about lunch. 

 

Talking about Sports:

Generally if you are having personal conversations all day long with coworkers, it is frowned upon. The one exception to this rule is talking about sports. Sports are so awesome that they break all rules. Nobody is going to give you much crap about talking about last night’s game or how amazing it is that the Steelers and the Penguins both won championships in the same year (City of Champions), because if anyone tries to squelch sports conversations, they come off as weak and not manly. I abuse this to no end, and don’t have a single regret lingering in that sweet, sweet melon of mine.

 

Well there you have it. Some sure fire ways to keep your sanity while at work. I appreciate all forms of Microsoft Paint Art, so if you need someone to critique your early work and give you some pointers, shoot them my way, I am always open for a distraction.

A Lesson in Humility

By: John Fitchwell, who apparently did a bump of coke and drank 6 Red Bulls before writing this Huddle.

 

As a prototypical frat boy type A male you can correctly assume that I don’t take losing of any kind very well. Yes I was the guy in grade school who would challenge you to a fight for hitting me in Dodgeball and that may have just graduated to removing my jersey and chasing players off of the field in high school soccer. College introduced me to Play Station and NCAA Football which to say led to a few thrown remotes across the room after losing is an understatement. So I hope your getting the picture that I have a fraction of a short mans complex complimented by fierce competition and a little too much testosterone from too many days in the gym.

 

What does this mean to me your probably asking yourself, so what if Fong is a meat head who throws tantrums when he loses and wears tight t-shirts to prove that he’s stronger and far superior to the rest of the human race? Ah be patient young grasshopper for there is a valuable lesson at hand that only a far superior man than yourself with the wisdom of Steven Seagal and the intensity of a small yet fierce hurricane can proclaim.

 

Enter modern day, Fong has traded fights on the playground and broken remotes for a quiet life in the gym, evenings of muay thai and the simple life of a medical sales person. If you’re looking for retired frat guys look no further than the sales profession, particularly medical sales. You will find grown men whom haven’t moved much further from college than your great aunt Bertha from the cookie table. A profession where sales trips turn into competitions of whom can impress the most single 30 something or even better 20 something ladies combined with who can be the drunkest the latest and still make it into the morning meeting or tradeshow. Oh yes and having some form of fraternity tattoo on your ankle is a sure sign of that you are truly one of the boys. Yes, sales numbers and performance are important, but being one of the boys is equally important for your career in this hallowed profession. Thus you now know my world. On with the show.

 

Well, I had grown hungry for my next challenge and as a successful medical sales person and retired though still breathing frat guy the world is my drunken sorostitute still wondering the house at 4 am and I am ready to feast on the conquest. Thus I set my sites on the role of Product Manager within my company and no sooner than I had made this decision than the perfect role appeared, I mean why not things just go my way and I’m stronger than you are so it just makes sense. I prepared rigorously for the interview which was to take place on a Wednesday, I love Wednesdays, and I was prepared to wow them with why I was the only choice and that by hiring me they were surely destined for success of the prodigal kind. I handled the interviews or so I felt at least like maestro conducting the New York Philharmonic and was the perfect combination of professional, witty and humble. The day and the job were mine and I flew home plotting my move and my next move towards intercompany domination. HAHAHAHA they never knew what hit them and I could only contemplate how much money they would offer to woo me from my current role.

 

Well, I knew I would here from them soon by the use of my fine tuned sales knowledge having obtained the time of their decision. The day arrived and the phone rang. I could hear the words ringing in my ears the next conquest had been made, and then the came the Storm. “I have some bad news, everyone really like you, but we have chosen another candidate”. Initially I thought I may have drank too much starbucks and was just hearing them wrong, but alas I had not and my success was not to be that day. Had I been a little too cocky in the interview, was there actually a better candidate, all things I’ve pondered. The conclusion I’ve made is that I must not be lifting enough lately, haha that’s funny.

 

Seriously though, defeat though slightly bitter has been a good experience humbling and only bringing me closer to perfection and I plan to come back like Rocky 2 with a “burning desire” and will leave no rock unturned for the next opportunity. Really boys, defeat is humbling and lessons are learned and real men will buck up and move on to the next chance or the next opportunity that comes their way and though we must admit defeat, defeat is all in the eye of the beholder. In my situation I see it only as a chance to get the next opportunity that will come along and further prove my domination of humans under 5”8”.

Why I Love New York

By: Adam Vagley

 

As I’ve mentioned in previous Huddles, I moved to my own place in New York back in September. Unfortunately, I had very little furniture of my own, aside from a table and bed I built. The stuffed marlin wasn’t properly taxidermied so that didn’t make the move. Nor did my wallaby due to pet restrictions.  

 

For someone with my budget and my requirements for a lot of furniture, there was only one option: IKEA. I hate IKEA on a good day. It’s always a madhouse and the place is such a maze it takes you at least 2 hours to get through even if you run the entire way. Still, there was no other option other than getting plastic deck furniture. I’ve gone that route before and thought I should try something a little more upscale.

 

My first mistake of the evening was renting an SUV from Budget instead of a van or truck from U-Haul. When we got to Budget, their rental system was down, so they wouldn’t let me actually pick up the SUV. By the time the system was back up and my girlfriend and I were able to take off with the car, it was close to 8:30. IKEA closed at 10:00 and it would take 30 minutes to get there. We no longer had time to get dinner.

 

We hustled through IKEA and got about $500 worth of stuff, including a mirror that broke right after I bought it, which made me ecstatic. We began loading the SUV. Not thinking, I left the keys in the back at the point where the hatch closes to rearrange some things up front. My girlfriend, not knowing I put the keys there, closed the hatch. I opened the hatch to find the key bent. In terms of pleasant experiences, IKEA descended to the 4^th level of hell. I went back into IKEA, which was by now closing for the night, and found pliers to bend the key back. Instead, the key snapped in half. I cursed like a sailor, headed back to the car and called Budget’s roadside assistance. They only had one key, which I had just broken. The soonest they could send someone was an hour.

 

The tow truck driver showed up around 11:30 and pulled up in front of our SUV. He discovered that the wheels were locked, so he couldn’t tow it out. He called his buddy to come with a flatbed truck. That guy arrived 20 minutes later, but said he wouldn’t be able to get out because we were in IKEA’s garage and the exit was too low. I briefly considered setting the SUV on fire.

 

The new driver decided to put us on the flatbed anyways, but still had to drag the SUV up onto the bed. He achieved this by spraying the tires of the SUV down with Windex, Big Fat Greek Wedding style. As the winch pulled the SUV up the ramp, locked tires squealing and grinding, I stood tense, waiting for an axle to snap. But he pulled it off.

 

We were able to get out from under the garage only by gingerly jumping a curb, another dubious situation given the fact that a 2,000 pound SUV was bouncing from side to side every time the driver tried to coax his truck over the curb.

 

We were told we had to accompany the driver back to the wreck shop, deep in Brooklyn. By now it was about 1:00 AM and pouring outside. We got to the shop only to be told by the manager that we, in fact, did not need to come down. The driver dropped us off at the subway station. We got soaked running to the station, and were only able to buy some junk food for dinner. I said I hated the city, and anywhere else in the country I would have my own car and wouldn’t even be in the mess.

 

The subway was quiet and mostly empty. It was 2:00 in the morning. We were exhausted. At the far end from us was a nerdy-looking white guy holding a plastic light saber. Sweet dude, I thought. We began to doze. A short time later, a black guy who looked like he stepped out of a New Orleans blues quartet got on, and started playing his harmonica. My mood picked up. It was 2:30 AM, and a dude was playing the harmonica. At least we have some live music, I thought.

 

Then Light Saber Guy started tapping his shoe with his light saber to the rhythm of the music. Blues Man stopped for a second and asked him to tap out a beat, and then he resumed his music-making to the beat. After about 5 minutes of this, Light Saber Guy got up and walked down to Blues Man, and asked if he could try his harmonica. Blue Man acquiesced. We thought it was gross that he was sharing a harmonica, and expected Light Saber suffer through a few notes before handing the harmonica back. But he didn't -- instead, he starts jamming on the harmonica even better than Blues Man. Blues Man starts clapping out the beat, and everyone on the train joined in. What are the odds of this scenario playing out anywhere else? Man, I love this city.

 

It did cost me $500 to get a new key made for the SUV and pay for the days it was in the shop. Some things are still a bitch.