Weekend Betting Lines: Results

Here are the results from this weekend.  If you don't know how betting works, I'm not going to teach you.

Winners are boldly underlined.

Spreads:
Half the team's combined pursuit (-30) vs. Charlie's Triumph with S.U.F.G. (Huge upset, not sure whether to commend C-Mac for pulling this one off, or to be disappointed in others' failure to utilize teamwork.)
Post-Willamette debauchery (-10 now after RC's talk.  Otherwise, -45) vs. Tame Saturday evening (No details needed on this one.  This outcome was based solely on RC's demeanor Sunday morning.  Yikes.)
Team G.C. (-18) vs. Combined team of all other individuals at Willamette (sure G.C. beat the combined team, but only by 6.  Would have needed a lot of displacement to get 18.)
Restless nights staring at the ceiling (-25) vs. Xmas sleeping soundly (Although I only got 5 hours of sleep Friday night, my window is currently broken/cannot be closed.  With an influx of cold temperatures, I'm beginning to finally get timely rest.)

Over/Under:
Grape Crushers under 25 minutes:  15 - EVEN.  Exactly 15 (including Frosh) GCers finished under 25 minutes with 3 more unbelievably close.
People that forget Sunday practice is at 8:30: 1.5 - OVER.  JgaMan (...) and St. Thomas missed the boat on that one.
Domino's Orders (extremely relevant, but straight from The Blerg): 2.5 - UNDER.  I speculate there were more, but I only know of one placed by Cwhan in time of need.

Banqueting - 2nd Guest Post

 

 DJ's heartfelt message (best post yet) predictably inspired others to speak their minds.  Here, T-Bar breaks down this evening's supper.

"As we all sat well-groomed amongst the other sports teams during the athletic banquet I found myself entranced in my comrades styles and swagger. Here are some of my observations that I jotted down in my mental notebook when I wasn’t bullshitting with RC.

English Gentlemen- Although AScott seems unassuming while sporting some combination consisting off cross country shirt, grey hipster beanie, and camouflage shorts, he cleans up well. Walking over to the Chiles I thought I was amongst the company of James Bond. I’m not really sure about the hair straightening though.

Zombieland- A.I. took particular pleasure in his evening to shine. While racking up the hardware you couldn’t tell if he was really pissed off or just “fucking goddamn tired”. Perhaps he was plotting a way to torture Charlie into following him on the next Sunday long run. Or maybe he had some erectile difficulties with a certain lady friend. Who knows?

Bethany McCinturff- Or should I say lack there of. As we all enjoyed our crusty enchiladas she was busy with her nose in her books, no doubt angered by Marit’s academic prevail. Let’s all hope she’s mentally alright after that stunning upset.

Sinatra looked like a hobo- JBass made sure to put us all to shame with his snappy tuxedo (or whatever the hell that was) and his fashionably late entrance. The golden boy was looking sharp!

Squilliam C.- As his guilty looks sent a lot of questions through the air, there was surely only one thing on his mind. “She better have swallowed that fucking pill.”

RC - In traditional brown western button up and semi-spandex khaki-like pants, RC was his normal witty self. Questioning among a variety of things, if Sean Thomas banged that one Soccer chick.

Back to the Basics- Garse: Greasy hair, boating shoes, cross country sweatshirt…basketball shorts? The usual.

I would enjoy writing more but I think it’s time for a library sesh. I hope Charlie and S.R.F.G.  (Significantly Remarkable Freshman Girl) are not around.

Yours truly,

T-Bar"

Xmas note: Chopkins devoured 8 "biscuits" and 2 brownies.  Welcome to America.  You'll be eating cheese soon enough.

Pilot-Palming-Plaform (PPP) - Guest Post

As I have mentioned before - Guest posts are more than welcome.  It saves me time from my busy life with 9 hours of class/week and it's good to see some new perspectives.  This one comes from a great published author, DJ DongLash:

"Sitting here in my living room, I find myself surveying Portsmouth’s clusterfuck of women’s soccer fans walking aimlessly about and I can’t help but ask, what the fuck is wrong with all of these people? Again and again a roar raises up from the stadium and penetrates my tired eardrums to rattle me awake from my post-longrun nap, rest I need to forget how shitty being wet, cold, and tired for two hours at a time can be. It’s Sunday, godamnit. Calm the fuck down, you crazy bastards.  Today is meant for slumber and masturbating, not for yelling and standing.

What right do you have to break such a reasonable social norm? Don’t you have any common sense? Don’t you know about the internet? Those purple seat cushions would make good palming platforms, anyways (make sure to use lotion or ask me later).

Actually, if I had any balls at all, I’d open my door right now and ask the next perfect Portland Pride nuclear family who walks by who the hell they think they are. And while I don’t have many hopes and dreams, I do wish that, when they turned to face me, I’d at least have the nerve to let my middle-bird out of its cage and say, 'Hey, fuck you.'

Cheers,

Deej"

Other news:  Currently being away from home, I think I just witnessed domestic violence from a house across the street from my location.  Children crying, lots of cuss words, other neighbors standing outside their houses looking around not knowing what to do... NoPo for life!

The State of 5629

Comical. 

• The trash can sat in the front yard filled with soapy water
• The bathroom smells like the entire area was used as the toilet
• Scotty Coors lost his appetite outside the front door
• Dishes piled so as logistically impossible to turn on faucet
• When dishwasher started, it failed and water flooded the kitchen (unforeseen side effect: 30% of kitchen floor now clean)

All this was happening as the Stanford v. Oregon game became more and more infuriating for the Soulberding.

Other news: Big Bob Mosby is now on first name basis at Thai Ginger, seeking the elusive best budday status draws nearer.  Also, some fool keeps posting on LetsRun.  Stop.  The more people forget about the NoPo Crush, the less stressed RC gets.  Give the guy a break, we'll show it when we need to.

Brolling Deep

Grape Crush has a no-bro-left-behind agenda.  I think this morning demonstrated that, but tonight it's especially important to bear in mind.  Not only has homecoming sold out all of its tickets, but now people are talking about sneaking in.  When you guys go to homecoming, remember the step-by-step agenda:

1 - Ditch female dates as soon as possible (why did you take a female date?).
2 - Congregate/Concentrate all Grape Crushers in single, consolidated area.
3 - Belligerently bum rush the dance floor, effectively making it extremely awkward/unexciting for all 1100 people in attendance.
4 - Stick around long past your welcome.
5 - Take the show (20+ dudes) to someone's small house-party, all but 1 person not invited.  Enter discreetly through window.
6 - When asked by douchey person living in house who the hell you are, take extreme offense, snatch what resources you can, and speedily broll out.

I'm sure everyone can have a good time tonight if they remember - we're not celebrating anything.  Just... Business as usual.

Weekend Betting Lines

Giving credit where it's already overdue:  This Grape Crush is modeled very closely after a shmuck's project at the prestigious Columbia U.  The Weekend Odds feature of "The Blerg" is one of my favorites, and I'm bringing it over.  If you're interested in not having any idea what the hell is going on with the Columbia team, click on The Blerg. 

Now, the Weekend Betting Lines:

Spreads:
Half the team's combined pursuit (-30) vs. Charlie's Triumph with S.U.F.G.
Post-Willamette debauchery (-10 now after RC's talk.  Otherwise, -45) vs. Tame Saturday evening
Team G.C. (-18) vs. Combined team of all other individuals at Willamette
Restless nights staring at the ceiling (-25) vs. Xmas sleeping soundly

Over/Under:
Grape Crushers under 25 minutes:  15
People that forget Sunday practice is at 8:30: 1.5
Domino's Orders (extremely relevant, but straight from The Blerg): 2.5

Competition

We're talking Willamette here.  But it's bigger than you know.  Ascott has boldly proclaimed that the "international team is destined for victory!"  The team looks strong with the likes of Scott himself and Chopkins representing the Red Coats, Le Malde the Scandinavian Reich, and Kip City the hopes and dreams of an entire continent.

The Natives team consists of T-Bar, Big Bob, Granddaddy, and Yours Truly.  While some may be perplexed by Granddaddy's involvement, he has vehemently pledged his allegiance and displayed his dogmatic patriotism quite enough.  No, seriously, that's enough now.

Anyway - here's an unbiased projection of how each individual will fare:

Scott - taken out by guerilla warfare tactics no later than the woods in mile 3.  Ever heard of the Revolutionary War?
Chopkins - finally defeats MRSA infection only to contract bubonic plague (Black Death).  With the race result now vastly insignificant given life circumstances, he drops out.
Le Malde - decides the course is preposterously inefficient and that it would be much smarter to run directly to the finish line.  Disqualified.
Kip City - See below

Big Bob/T-Bar/Xmas/Granddaddy - Cross finish line victoriously tied for first place as a bald eagle soars overhead, fireworks explode, and after Kip City stops 5 meters before the line in an attempt to girlfriend-snatch.

Damn it feels good to be American.