Message-ID: <4881431.1075841359637.JavaMail.evans@thyme> Date: Wed, 1 May 2002 17:12:10 -0700 (PDT) From: knipe3@msn.com To: fenner.chet@enron.com, corrier.brad@enron.com, joe.parks@enron.com, mccomb.keith@enron.com, mullally.andy@enron.com, constantine.brian@enron.com, wollam.erik@enron.com, mccomb.chris@enron.com Subject: Fw: Another day in the life... Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-From: chad knipe X-To: Chet Fenner , Brad Corrier , Parks, Joe , Keith McComb , Andy Mullally , Brian Constantine , EriK Wollam , Chris McComb X-cc: X-bcc: X-Folder: \ExMerge - Parks, Joe\Deleted Items X-Origin: PARKS-J X-FileName: joe parks 6-26-02.pst 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 To: aguerra@bigwaha.com ; s_basedow@hotmail.com ; brad.a.easterling@accenture.com ; jsines555@hotmail.com ; mpreng81@yahoo.com ; mot@pentasafe.com ; richecrowell2@hotmail.com ; spreng55@hotmail.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 >>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: 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: To: Noone Strider (E-mail) (E-mail) , Chad Shaw (E-mail) 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- >