So tonight I scanned some old pictures into the digital world, and some of them can be tangentially related to what goes on here, so what the hell?
First up is this file photo of Kanu & Solon in the hallway of the 9th floor of Creswell Hall at about 3 a.m., circa 1992. I'm a fairly skinny dude now, going about 6'2" 180, but this pic reminded me that as a college freshman I was 6'2" and didn't weigh more than 160 soaking wet. Fortunately copious beer drinking soon filled my ass out a bit. And for the record, yes, those are red Duck Head shorts. Laugh all you want, but you had them too, even if they weren't sagging that hard. My initial embarrassment that I am drinking a Miller High Life was tempered by the realization that Solon is drinking a Milwaukee's Best.
Don't fuck with Creswell Hall's penthouse floor, bitches.
Georgia-Florida. 1995. In Athens for one night only due to the renovation of the Gator Bowl. The game fell on October 31, so in our infinite drunken wisdom we thought it would be a good idea to make pumpkinheads and paint them up as UGA football helmets. At the tailgate we got two of them done before we got too drunk to want to do the others. It was really hot and having fresh pumpkin innards on your head in the hot afternoon sun was not exactly something that we had factored in when we originally conceived the plan. I think we used towels and/or aluminum foil pilfered from a nearby tailgate as protective slime buffers between our heads and the inside of the pumpkins. We made it to the stadium but our grand scheme of getting on TV didn't quite pan out since the mighty Gators absolutely annihilated us 51-14, meaning there was very little reason during the game for a camera man to show Georgia fans doing anything celebratory, fun, or festive. Spurrier calling timeout in the last 2 minutes to concoct a trick play touchdown to rub it in, knowing that it made him the first coach in history to hang 50 on UGA in Sanford Stadium cemented his status as the Evil Genius forever. The asskicking was a supreme buzzkill, but the Braves won the World Series that night, which together with massive amounts of alcohol, helped us forget about this game and be happy, if only for a brief while.
Shabba, Pangus, Kanu, and RJ. October 31, 1995
Me & Vince Dawg, the day in summer of 1996 that the Olympic torch ran through Athens while I was working for ACOG all summer. ACOG president and UGA alum Billy Payne ran the torch into Sanford Stadium, went to midfield, and passed it to Coach Dooley who then ran it out. How can you tell it's 1996? I'm rocking one of those woven belts that is too long and hangs out, that's how- at least I didn't have it 2 feet too long and tied it off in a knot. And yes, the Eggbert glasses are horrible I know. But as Solon & my sister told me years later, it was a testament to my game that I managed to get laid by pretty girls whilst rocking those awful specs for 4 years. It's probably closer to the truth that there is so much hott ass in Athens to go around that not even the dorks go thirsty.
Kanu & Vince Diesel, summer of 1996.
Proof, pre-Orson Swindle, the Dawgs and Gators could actually get along peacefully and amicably. That's me and the most legendary Gator I've ever known, let's call him ER, at Blount's wedding reception. The end of the reception, actually, when the sober people start leaving and the drunks drink more and start to get silly. At the time ER was perhaps the one person even remotely related to UF that our group did not despise, and although his boys beat our ass in football every year, we took great pride in his declaration: "I love Florida y'all, but when I want to party in the SEC, I go up to Athens."
2002: Dawg-Gator detente, which I guess makes me Nixon and ER China.
Two pics from the post game celebration in the Georgia Dome parking lot after Georgia beat the shit out of LSU to win the SEC Championship in 2005. It was like 38 degrees, but Tap broke out the bubbly and Cubans, and it was on.
SD in my circa 1994 Brice Hunter jersey, which has been
reborn all these years later as my Kenneth Harris jersey
Solon, Kanu, Tap: "Eh, cabron, saludad el campeon!"
And finally, having nothing to do with anything, is this, a celebratory photographical interpretation of my general goofiness and well known status as not just an ass man, but an ass aficionado.
You put a "butts" sign on a fence outside your restaurant,
and I'm going to show my support for your declaration of being pro-bunda