I dont know...sounds like opening day to me....or my days in new Orleans.
 
It's several attachments down and long but you 'Horns boys will particularly enjoy
 
C.
 

----- Original Message -----
From: Mike Wilson
Sent: Wednesday, May 01, 2002 11:44 AM
To: Trent Schiek; Stormy Knipe; Stewart Geldersma; Scott Birdwell; Russell White; riche crowell; Reisor Pickett; Pete Bell; John Shanklin; Jeff Krone; Chad Weigman; Chad Knipe; Bill Carlson
Subject: Fw: Another day in the life...
 

-----Original Message-----
From: terry saenz <tsigns5@hotmail.com>
To: aguerra@bigwaha.com <aguerra@bigwaha.com>; s_basedow@hotmail.com
<s_basedow@hotmail.com>; brad.a.easterling@accenture.com
<brad.a.easterling@accenture.com>; jsines555@hotmail.com
<jsines555@hotmail.com>; mpreng81@yahoo.com <mpreng81@yahoo.com>;
mot@pentasafe.com <mot@pentasafe.com>; richecrowell2@hotmail.com
<richecrowell2@hotmail.com>; spreng55@hotmail.com <spreng55@hotmail.com>;
mikew@cottonrestorationinc.com <mikew@cottonrestorationinc.com>
Date: Tuesday, April 30, 2002 1:56 PM
Subject: Fwd: Another day in the life...


>this is long, but very much worth the time.  very funny
>
>
>>From: Michael Collier <mbcollier34@yahoo.com>
>>To: tsigns5@hotmail.com
>>Subject: Fwd: Another day in the life...
>>Date: Tue, 30 Apr 2002 11:14:16 -0700 (PDT)
>>
>>
>>
>>   Note: forwarded message attached.
>>
>>
>>
>>---------------------------------
>>Do You Yahoo!?
>>Yahoo! Health - your guide to health and wellness
>
>
>_________________________________________________________________
>Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger: http://messenger.msn.com
>



--------- Inline attachment follows ---------

From:  <stridernoone@yahoo.com>
To: mbcollier34@yahoo.com, jason.tindall@whitakermedical.com, kkirk33@cs.com
Date: Tuesday, April 30, 2002 1:29:15 GMT
Subject: 


Note: forwarded message attached.


__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Health - your guide to health and wellness
http://health.yahoo.com

--------- Inline attachment follows ---------

From:  <jayson.w.russ@lmco.com>
To: Noone Strider (E-mail) (E-mail) <stridernoone@yahoo.com>, Chad Shaw (E-mail) <Chad.Shaw@gecapital.com>
Date: Tuesday, April 30, 2002 11:47:11 GMT
Subject: 



Jayson Russ
F-16 Estimating
X54279
MZ: 8712

>  -----Original Message-----
> From: 	Holt, Benjamin J
> Sent:	Monday, April 29, 2002 4:43 PM
> To:	Russ, Jayson W
> Subject:	FW:
>
>
>
> I think this may have been some of my friends? Sound familiar?
>
>
>
> If you've ever been
> > drunk
> > > > at a sporting event, or been with someone who has, you can relate...
>
> > > > This is an e-mail from some guy named J.D. Horne, who, according to
> the
> > > > messages that were attached to this, is not a 21 year old frat punk,
>
> but
> > > > an attorney of indeterminate age. He sent it to his friend and it
> got
> > > > forwarded around the country. You have to give the guy some props
> for
> > > > being self-deprecating...but I hope I ever meet him on game day -
> heck,
> > > > I'm hung over just from reading it. A chronology of events for
> Saturday,
> > > > December 4, 1999, and the early morning hours of Sunday, December 5,
>
> > 1999:
> > > >
> > > > 6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at full-freaking
> > blast
> > > >
> > > > 6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels
> > > >
> > > > 7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time of the morning)
>
> > > >
> > > > 8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)
> > > >
> > > > 8:53 Crack open second beer
> > > >
> > > > 8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)
> > > >
> > > > 10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for
> smoooooth
> > 95
> > > >
> > > > 10:35 Headed for San Antonio (Alamodome - Nebraska vs Texas)
> > > >
> > > > 10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game festivities
> > > >
> > > > 11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we double-back to a
> > liquor
> > > > store and buy the good ol' 750 plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam
> > > >
> > > > 11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single cloud
> in
> > the
> > > > sky. About 70 degrees.
> > > >
> > > > 11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the shit out of Nebraska.
> > > >
> > > > 11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go fuck himself.
> > > >
> > > > 12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. We're on the
>
> > > > second floor of a two-story parking garage on the corner (a couple
> > hundred
> > > > of us). We're hooting and hollering like wildmen. Theband doubles
> back
> > > > to the street right below us and serenades us with Texas Fight and
> The
> > > > Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT.
> > > >
> > > > 12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown men are bumping
>
> > > > chests with one another, each and very one of them now secure and
> > certain
> > > > of the fact that we are going to kick the shit out of Nebraska.
> > > >
> > > > 1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. Again,
> we
> > > > hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the band doubles back and stops
>
> > right
> > > > below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska fight
>
> > > > songs. Although somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we
> remain
> > > > convinced that we are going to kick the shit out of Nebraska.
> > > >
> > > > 1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to stuff
> the
> > > > "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer into my pants.
> > > >
> > > > 1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans.They are taunting me.
> I
> am
> > > > taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the shit out
> of
> > > > Nebraska. I decide to challenge
> > > > a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play what
> > > > I nowcall and will forever be remembered as "Cell-Phone Flop Out."
> > > > Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this
> > > > Nebraska jackass that if he's so confident
> > > > in his team, he should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make
> > plane
> > > > reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these
> > > > memorable words: "And not
> > > > those damn refundable tickets, either! You request those
> non-refundable,
> > > > non-transferrable sons-of-bitches!" He backs down. He is unworthy. I
>
> > call
> > > > Southwest Airlines and
> > > > buy two tickets to Phoenix,> non-refundable and non-transferrable.
> > Price:
> > > > $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell
> phone
> > in
> > > > triumph to the cheers
> > > > of hundreds of Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects.
> > > > I distribute the 11 beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE
>
> > the
> > > > pre-game kingdom.
> > > >
> > > > 2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and pour
>
> my
> > > > first stiffy.
> > > >
> > > > 2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is
> fast.
> > > > Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas.
> > > >
> > > > 3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for
> Texas.
> > > > Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still
> > > > talking shit. I pour another stiffy from the Traveler.
> > > >
> > > > 3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: The Traveler is a dead
> > soldier.
> > > > I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am
> standing
> > > > in line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and
> > > > rolls out of the end zone. Safety.
> > > >
> > > > 3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another
> > Traveler.
> > > >
> > > > 4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at
> halftime,
> > > > I attempt to revive the classic Brice-ism from the South Bend
> bathroom:
> > > > "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice cock." He is unamused.
> > > >
> > > > 4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from theAlamodome merchants. I
> share
> > my
> > > > beer with two high school girls sitting behind me. Surprisingly,
> they
> > are
> > > > equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to purchase
> > Sprites,
> > > > so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska
> is
> a
> > > > bunch of pussies.
> > > >
> > > > 4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their
> > > > lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from
> > > > the Alamodome merchants.
> > > >
> > > > 5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith.
> This
> > > > normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football
> field.
> > > >
> > > > 5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have
> > been
> > > > confirmed and are non-refundable and
> > > > non-transferrable."
> > > >
> > > > 5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession
> > > > counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer
> can
> be
> > > > sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am
> enraged
> > by
> > > > this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the fuck didn't you announce last
> call
> > > > over the fucking PA system??!!"
> > > >
> > > > 5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a
> > > > sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter,
> > > > awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the
> answer
> is
> > > > no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far)
> > cheerof
> > > > the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were
> walking
> > > > back to the tunnel and Bevo (the Texas mascot) stopped to take a
> > > > gargantuan shit all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the
> "Nebraska"
> > > > spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty
> > > > Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty.
> > > >
> > > > 6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I
> > would
> > > > taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage, but I
> am
> > too
> > > > drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of
> the
> > > > evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in
>
> > > > October, they would be playing Florida State for the national
> > > > championship.
> > > >
> > > > 6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the 8:00
> > > > Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the
> > > > day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care.
> > > >
> > > > 7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store.I
> walk
> > > > past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder
>
> if
> > > > it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist the top off and
> > drink
> > > > the Zima in swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the
> > frig.
> > > >
> > > > 7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the>
> > > > ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no
>
> one
> > > > there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black
> > > > olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the
> counter
> > > > and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the
> store
> > > > grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I
> don't
> > > > care.
> > > >
> > > > 8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and
> singing
> > > > Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my
>
> > > > singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other
>
> > good
> > > > songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon
> Moon"
> > and
> > > > that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a
> bit
> > > > excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play on its
>
> > own.
> > > > I tell him to fuck off and restart "Neon Moon."
> > > >
> > > > 8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud
> and
> > > > profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking
> > garage.
> > > > I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out.I tell
> him
> we
> > > > may as well pitch a fucking tent here. He ignores me. I think he's
> still
> > > > pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon"
> loudly.
> > > >
> > > > 8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're
> going
> > > > to kick the shit out of Arizona.
> > > >
> > > > 9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the
>
> > > > bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because
> of
> > the
> > > > new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There are no Arizona
> fans
> in
> > > > the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I
> have
> a
> > > > "Niiiiiice cock." No one is amused but me.
> > > >
> > > > 9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can.
> > > > Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center,much less
>
> Bud
> > > > Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: "Where did you get
> that,
> > > > sir?"
> > > > I tell him (no shit): "Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up
> with
> > > > those little plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away
> for
> > > > me?" I take> the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I
> pretend
> > > > I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck
> into
> > > > some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak
> into
> a
> > > > large group of people and sit down. > The usher walks by harmlessly.
> I
> > am
> > > > giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light.
> > > >
> > > > 9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my
> bearings.
> > > > I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing.
> > > >
> > > > 10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I have
> cleared
> > out
> > > > the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the
> > > > surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I'm OK and
> perhaps
> I
> > > > shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to fuck off.
> > > >
> > > > 10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst fucking call I have EVER
> > seen,"
> > > > I attempt to remove my hat again to
> > > > begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I
> > miscalculate
> > > > and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch
>
> > gash
> > > > over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my
> shirt.
> > > > Perhaps," I think to myself, "I'm taking this a bit too seriously."
> > > >
> > > > 10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I am
> swaying
> > > > and grunting. I have a bloody napkin
> > > > pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly)
> white
> > > > shirt wrapped around my waist. I look> like I should be in an
> episode
> of
> > > > Cops.
> > > >
> > > > 10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on my body
> and
> > make
> > > > my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20 seconds by a good
> > > > samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered in blood,
> but
> I
> > > > merely grunt incoherently and keep moving.
> > > >
> > > > 10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the parking garage. I
> walk
> > up
> > > > six flights of stairs, promise that when I see my friend I will
> punch
> > him
> > > > in the face for making me walk up six flights of stairs, find the
> truck,
> > > > and
> > > > collapse in a heap in the bed of the truck. I look around and notice
>
> > that
> > > > traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole
> flights,
> > and
> > > > no one is moving. I take a nap.
> > > >
> > > > 11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver's seat. I
> lift
> > my
> > > > head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is
> lined
> > up
> > > > all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is
> moving.
> > I
> > > > am too tired to punch my friend. I call my friend a "Stupid
> cocksucker."
> > > >
> > > > 11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice
> that
> > > > traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole
> flights,
> > and
> > > > no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid cocksucker."
> > > >
> > > > 11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice
> that
> > > > traffic is lined up all the way around the
> > > > garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a
> > > > "Stupid cocksucker."
> > > >
> > > > 11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice
> that
> > > > traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole
> flights,
> > and
> > > > no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid cocksucker."
> > > >
> > > > 11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to look out
> the
> > > > bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on the
>
> > > > second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the
> parking
> > > > facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the> street below. My
> friend
> > > > looks at me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn
> around
> > > > pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to "Neon
> Moon."
> > > >
> > > > 12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the truck and
> go
> > from
> > > > vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two beers. I am happy. I
> > return
> > > > to my vehicle.
> > > >
> > > > 12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We make our way to
> my
> > > > apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch with a freshly opened
> bottle
> > of
> > > > Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of him. We are all going to
> die
> > > > tonight.
> > > >
> > > > 12:59 We have finished three-quarters of the bottle of Glenlivet. We
>
> > > > decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at PollyEsther's.
> Ed
> > has
> > > > to pee. He walks down the hall to our apartment and directly into
> the
> > full
> > > > length mirror at the end of the hall, smashing it into hundreds of
> > pieces.
> > > > We giggle uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther's.
> > > >
> > > > 1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably at our efforts
> > > > toenter his club. "Fellas," he says in between his fits of spastic
> > > > laughter, "I've been working this door for almosta year. I've been
> > working
> > > > doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can honestly say that I
>
> > > > ain't> never seen three drunker mother fuckers than you three.
> Sorry,
> > > > can't let you in." We attempt to reason with him. He laughs harder.
> > > >
> > > > 1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in the door
> and
> > > > hear "Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group and mutter: "See,
> dat
> > > > wasn't that fuckin' hard. Day don't fuckin' do that at the
> Awamo...the
> > > > awaom...the alab...fuck it, that stadium we was at today..." We
> order
> 6
> > > > shots of tequila and three beers.
> > > >
> > > > 2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail a cab to take us the
> two
> > > > and one half blocks to Katz's. The cab fare is $1.60. We give him
> $10
> > and
> > > > tell him to keep it.
> > > >
> > > > 2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We are
> seated
> > > > immediately.
> > > >
> > > > 2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a bowl of
> soup,
> > > > two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Reuben sandwiches, a
> hamburger,
> > two
> > > > cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an order of onion
> rings.
> > > >
> > > > 2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads on the
> table.
> > > > The waiter wakes us up. We eat every
> > > > fucking bit of our food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us
> are
> > > > disgusted. We don't give a fuck. The tab is $112 with tip.
> > > >
> > > > 2:46 I'm sleepy.
> > > >
> > > > 12:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is the bartender at
> Katz's.
> > > > She is not pretty.
> > > >
> > > > HOOK 'EM HORNS, BABY!!! Out-
>