july 4th weekend, episode one: the invention of pitcher patrol volleyball
July 09, 2003, 5:35 pm

Because the fantastic wack-craziness cannot be contained in a single, sordid entry, I will be writing a series of three or four short entries about my Fourth of July Weekend that resulted in many bug bites, injuries, torrid drunken affairs, and some of the best partying ever witnessed on God's green Earth. This is the first entry in this series, so look for the rest to follow soon (as well as a pictorial update, where all this text may be erased; I haven't decided).

Friday, July 4, 2003: afternoon

I arrived at Ryan the Funeral Director's parents' house on the Eastern Shore shortly after 1:30pm.

Upon my entrance, I was greeted much like Norm as everyone playing volleyball shouted, "SALLY!" Immediately I threw on my suit, put a beer in my hand, and embarked on a wide world of intoxication like I have never seen. Luckily for us, Maryland's Eastern Shore avoided any precipitation for the weekend, and Friday was GORGEOUS with its soft bay breezes and bright sunshine. I lathered up my pasty white skin and just LOUNGED, gulping my beer and taking it all in.

Preparations for the next day's INEBRIATION OLYMPIAD 2003 had begun, with discussion over the guest list. Apparently, a pseudo-friend named Rob was on the invite list, and Rob had just purchased a 33-foot racing boat called a DONZI. ("Penis extension, that's all it is, Sally.") Hilarious exchange:

Ryan the Funeral Director: "So, what's up?"

Kevin (Rob's lackey and equally arrogant sidekick): "Man, Rob bought a 33-foot DONZI."

Ryan the Funeral Director: "Wow."

Kevin: "Oh yeah. It's so bling."

Needless to say, we made constant references to everyone's "bling" all weekend. The "Bling" however, was not our only source of quote amusement, for Old School triumphed in nearly every oft-repeated quote category, our favorites being:

1. "Birddog 'em, FRANK!"

2. "Just one vagina for the rest of your life, Frank. Smart move. Way to work it through."

3. "Crazy Boy Band Ass..."

4. "Bring your green hat, come on!"

5. "Apologize to the baby..."

(We also favored the term "Basedow!" followed by a quarter-turn pose in honor of FITNESS CELEBRITY JOHN BASEDOW...does anyone else have to suffer through the "Fitness Made Simple" commercials? Does anyone else know about Basedow and his 43-year old looking face even though he's only 28? Oh yeah, stancovet and fiestada, you feel me on this one.)

We played volleyball in the pool for a while, then decided to have some volleyfun on dry land. As I was walking to one side of the net, Ryan the Funeral Director called, "Sally, get your ass over here." (Far be it for me to argue with the host.) "We're inventing a game," he said, "This is the side of the net for people who want to drink more!" I needn't tell you that I'm ALWAYS on the side of people who want to drink more.

Five minutes of brainstorming later, we invented PITCHER PATROL VOLLEYBALL. BEHOLD! THE RULES!

1. Teams are divided evenly on either side of a volleyball net.

2. Out of bounds on each side of net is placed a FULL pitcher of beer closest to the person serving the ball.

3. Play volleyball (normal rules).

4. When either team scores a point, that team meets in the center of the court. Team members chant "PITCHER PATROL! PITCHER PATROL! PITCHER PATROL!" as the server brings the pitcher over. The team MUST, in the order they are standing on the court, take a LARGE drink (think HUGE GULP) from the pitcher. The pitcher need not be finished on every turn, but for a game of six people on a side, you should be refilling the pitcher every three to four points.

5. When the pitcher is finished, that team plays a man down until the pitcher is returned.

6. When one team scores 15 points, they win. The losing team has to pass their pitcher around the team and finish it before anyone leaves the circle. The winning team either drinks their pitcher or dumps it on each other's heads in celebration.

6. This game works better when only one team is drinking, as they play far better than the other team.

So we played the PITCHER PATROL VOLLEYBALL, best 2 out of 3, and my team (the only one actually adhering to the rules of PPVB) won two. By the third game, most of us couldn't see the ball, let alone the pitcher, but it was good times nonetheless.

The next entry details the proliferation of Boy Band Ass that infiltrated our quiet beach party.