12/9/2016

In Attendance: Cash, Chess, Pastor, Scribe, Silent Bob, Stephen, Tango

Nicknames are evolving at T-14 at such a pace to draw suspicion from Fort Lauderdale PD. Once all T-14 members secure new handles, we will circumcise our watches and roll over a Dairy Queen. For you home-gamers, the latest movement in this regard is Gary becoming Tango and Wolff being called Cash.

December 9^th was an intimate and gut-busting affair to the point Pastor became puddly in his pants, and Scribe forgot to take some notes. Luckily, Pastor held confession last night at Yolo over several goblets of reindeer juice, and Scribe was absolved of his sins with a sign of the cross and penance of 3 Miller Lights and 2 Yuenglings.

Being the T-14 elder, Cash dispensed invaluable wisdom and observations deserving immortalization in the blog. The first is that “working out is a waste of time”. Scribe finds this advice highly pertinent to his circumstance, realizing that despite working out almost every day, 1) Cash would trounce him in an arm wrestling match in light of a rotator cuff tear and 2) would likewise thrash him in a foot race as his orthotics—worn to address drifting plantar bone fragments and minor hip dysplasia—are splitting and in need or replacement. Were he a horse, Scribe would have been put down some time during the Clinton administration.

Cash’s second immortal prudential nugget is to “just trade shit”. With a face that screamed, “I’m getting puddly in my pants just thinking about it,” Cash is outwardly modest about the small war chest he is amassing, “Just trading shit and knowing that I will make money 70% of the time.” His personal tagline, “I don’t know half the crap I own,” can be found in his upcoming business success book, “Fuck It!”

Meanwhile, Silent Bob spent ten minutes describing a listing to a billionaire who hung up 30 seconds into their conversation.

With that, the Table 14 mantra for the week is: It’s OK to break wind as long as you don’t put on airs.

12/2/2016

Attending: Ant-ny, Don, Dreadlock Fetus, Newcomer Ray (momentarily), Silent Bob, Solomon (momentarily, absque consientia), Tango, Wolff

Scribe is having pathological difficulty accepting that a group of such long standing does not have a comprehensive set of nicknames and is taking liberties with them himself where they are lacking. Of course, these monikers are completely open for future changes/improvement.

Pastor's absence was conspicuous and met with uniform concern by T-14 assuming he could only have neglected his voluntary obligatory appearance for a pivotal life circumstance like open bar.

Having arrived cryogenically frozen and categorically unable to participate, Solomon was forced to depart after 10 minutes.

The character of focus on December 2nd was Jim "bossy face" Wolff by way of 1) Ant-ny's giddy obsession with his upcoming 80th birthday blowout and 2) a festering Yuengling allergy. Regarding item 1, the discussion comprised several simultaneous tugs-of-war. The first was Ant-ny's planning grandiosity, which included destination parties, a birthday flotilla, a legion of scantily or non-clad strippers--1:1 guest:skank ratio. The more Ant-ny's creative juices flowed, the hotter Wolff's mental cash register ran. On the verge of meltdown, Wolff placed a firm kibosh on the conversation, reaffirming his original plan of a sports bar bash, of which the table generally approved as if it were their choice. Wolff declared the only remaining gap in his plan was lack of theme. The gentlemen of T-14 separated into breakout groups, employing consensus-building techniques such as multi-voting. scatter diagrams, and brainstorming to return with the fresh, revolutionary, completely innovative proposition of ... strippers.

Wolff shifted his focus to the borderline historic "Yuengling Controversy". It's genesis was Don and Scribe's innocent request for a brew upgrade. Wolff entered thunderous objections, turning fifty shades of dismay. He pounded the table in the name of T-14 tradition and superior taste. Others at the table asserted, "After thirty years drinking piss, how would you know the difference." Beginning to feel outnumbered, Wolff turned his argument toward those younger, naive victims at the table, categorizing Yuengling a "gateway beer", presumably to sophistication--something strictly forbidden at T-14. At whits end from enduring soiree consultations under duress and standing his ground in protest of Yuengling, Wolff spent three minutes downing a pint of Yuengling.

In other news:
- T-14 discovered a previously unseen lattice of veins in Antman's forehead as he regaled them with the general n'eer-do-well culture of the South Florida alarm installation community, so exasperated he was forced to fetch his own glass.

- Dreadlock Fetus constructed a new menu item SPRB could now call the Winn Dixie Burger.

- Scribe brought his vulnerability to the table, admitting that the follicularly vacant state of his scalp is casualty of a DIY dreadlock twisting accident.

In closing, the T-14 mantra for the week is: 22 + 12 = 40