The loveliest Waffle House bathroom these eyes have ever seen:

Debbie Allen prepares her N.Y. Performing Arts School modern dance class for the big Thriller number:

FIRE!

Shirtless Tim Johnson is presenting.

And he's rewarded for his presentation.

Cleary playing Weird Science.

Katie showing off her OmmeBling.

Flav's classy drinking of the brew (pinky UP!).

Random group of people who decided to molest STJ while he was passed out. They started with the drumstick.

Tim getting a faceful of man-ass.

More Tim fun.

Peace out.

Worst 3-way ever.

VIDEO: Clayton dances a jig with (and humps on) an unsuspecting chair.

VIDEO: That sh1t was tight. I won't listen to anyone who speaks badly of it.

Guys,

Another year, another Ommegang weekend of campfires and jackassery.

First, thanks to Ercan (pronounced "AirJohn"), Katie, Jessie, & Anne who
picked up with us and made the weekend go great on and off the field. The
first 3 names listed are from Albany and run a pretty cool-sounding
tournament the weekend before Wildwood called "Ow My Knee!
(http://www.albanyultimate.org/OwMyKnee.html). I know some of us were
talking about heading up there.

Second, thanks to the folks who got up there early and set up the tents and
got everything ready for the late arrivers. The fact that my tunnel wasn't
in effect will not be mentioned.

Friday night, people arrived in shifts, and those that came later had a lot
of catching up to do on their drinking. I had a base of Waffle House
goodness that would sustain me and insulate my colon for much of the
weekend. Life was good. Most of us went to bed pretty late, but luckily
my tent was on a slope and Goose was the base camp in this sordid metaphor.

Saturday morning we awoke to a steady rain. Nothing improves camping like
rain, right? So some of us wandered thru the mud to the main tent to get
some grub and see what the deal was. Well, luckily our old friend Big Rick
was running things. So we of course knew nothing. The weather was supposed
to improve, but there was no captain's meeting (that I was aware of), no
announcement that the games were on/off (that I was aware of), and no Big
Rick to be seen (that I was certainly aware of).

So we got our crap together and headed out to the fields. We won our first
2 games, the first one easily and the second one harder than we should have.
Sandwiched between those games was some wiffleball. Our next bye we spent
at the lovely Elm Inn, where Flav argued with rednecks that the USA is
everyone's hometown and we finally watched the first half of the USA/Italy
game.

Shockingly, we came out flat in the next 2 games and lost both to a couple
of pretty good teams. The second team, especially had a very effective ho
stack and a "woman" who was fast as hell. One of the highlights was my
sliding one-handed catch of an Ercan hammer. Some on the sidelines alleged
that my left hand was behind my head in an allegedly gay pose. I wouldn't
know what my left hand was doing since it was of no use to me at the time.
We rallied to tie it a 6-6, but they pulled away in the second half.

After some much-needed showers (some of us came straight from Edgely Friday
night and slept in the clothes we played in), we returned to camp looking
for some grub. Annoyed that for a $350 team fee, we weren't getting any
free food or beer, some of us headed back to the lovely Elm Inn, their
lovely dining room and their especially lovely $1.25 Genesee Cream Ales.
Pat ordered anything that wasn't tied-down to be batter-dipped, fried, and
placed in a basket. And of course Cleary got a prime rib the size of my
head. And that was the Queen Cut.

We returned to the campsite and started drinking anything but Ommegang beer.
PBR, Sparks, lots of Sparks. Right, ladies? All this energy led to some
interesting experiences:

• Numerous fecal stories.
• Me discovering my staff.
• Another telling of the Laser story.
• My staff macking a disc, and then me yelling "My name's Brian Cleary,
  and you annoy me."
• Flav telling some guy who claimed to have made out with Rachel that she
  (Rachel) had "mouth AIDS".
• Some random guy came up and started talking to Jo Jang, followed by
  cries of "Pete, Danger!" & "Marco Polo!"
• A (naturally) Shirtless Tim Johnson passed out by the fire getting
  face-humped by strange men and women from another team.
• Jimmy plying his trade as fire builder by throwing countless pallets
  onto the fire and then walking away in disgust. At one point, he was
  literally standing in the fire, adjusting the pallets to his liking.
• Bridget drinking 3 Sparks and descending into an as-yet-undiscovered
  level of messdom. Asking for Mikey for a behind-the-dumpster carnal
  rendezvous, and then later descending into a puddle of tears proves that she
  is the Worst Wife ever.
• Clayton giving us a preview of his Vegas-style show entitled "The Many
  Drunken & Dancing Faces of Clayton Coltman".
• And more than anything, the incredible Thriller-style dance # that Flav
  & Marie worked on for abut 30 minutes with 5 frat guys who were probably
  more interested in fingerdancing than anything else. That shit was tight.
  See the video for proof.

Sunday started way too early, and since we didn't win one of our last 2
games on Saturday, we had no 1st-round bye. In a great bit of planning, 5
of the 7 main fields were being taken over by a soccer tourney at 1. So, of
course, schedules suddenly became tight, and our 1st game was capped at 7.
We won, and as our reward, we got to schlep it over to the Milford fields
(where we played on Saturday). We get there by 11:20 and there's no
opponent. We wait, and wait, and finally at noon we de-cleated and cracked
open some bottles of Ultimate juice. Of course 5 minutes later, our
opponent shows up. They ask if we want to play. We start the negotiating
with "How about a game to 7? We've already de-cleated and our drinking ice
cold bottles of Ultimate juice." They counter with "Less than 15 is OK, but
7's too short." Showing our incredible bartering skills, we reply with
"Fine, then no game."

Another highlight of the weekend took place while loading up our cars with
tents and a lot of beer from the Brewery gift shop. We're walking past some
young folks and they yell "TOOTHY BL0WJ0B?!?", which of course was our Vegas
team name. We're fricking famous.

So we didn't win any beer, but at least the abundance of port-o-potties made
up for it. What? You mean there was only one for the whole weekend and by
Sunday morning the pile of waste was just about poking up through the seat?
Oh yeah, that's right.