STILL doing non-journalism piddling while working

I will now light myself on fire.

 

Share the story here.

 

He has discussed the situation before in these hallowed pages. I doubt he'll want to do this again.

I was there to see M_W and said girl together in a pre-cockblock setting. He was made. It took an incredibly awful performance to get M_W unlaid. But the cockblocker was up to the task on this night.

 

It was no doubt the worst case of cockblocking I've ever heard of.

 

Because several people have PMed me wanting the story, and because I want everyone to have a holiday reminder of the evils of cockblocking, here it is. This is adapted from an e-mail I sent some friends shortly thereafter and includes a lot of phrases from my original SportsJournalists.com post on the subject:

***

I'm in a medium-sized Southern city covering a college bowl game, and decide to go out and ring in the New Year with some friends.

Well, one of my paper's photographers is also around, and he wants to come along. And let me set the stage here: This guy is a Grade-A weirdo. When he shoots high school stuff, he's got a camera full of cheerleader photos and maybe three shots of the game. He walks around the office snapping pics of people working -- an entirely annoying habit, believe me. He even took his camera with us to the bar.

So anyway, when we get to the bar, I meet this girl. And for the record I definitely don't have "bar game." I'm a shy son of a gun.

But we're totally clicking, she's cute, funny, smart, and clearly interested in having a wild time on New Year's Eve. In other words, God, for reasons of his own, has decided that ol' Winger gets to welcome in '06 in style.

So a little after midnight, the lovely lady in question invites me to head back to her place. When I'd recovered from my shock, I accepted, gratefully. I say goodbye to my friends and we're ready to roll.

So we tell the photog that we're leaving, and he asks if she can drive him back to our nearby hotel. (He and I took a cab over, and there are no cabs to be found or called at 12:30 a.m. on New Year's in this town.)

So we get to the hotel, and the photog says something like, "I'm having so much fun, I'm really not ready to go home."

I almost shit.

I mean, honestly...I'm still just flabbergasted writing it.

Well, I give him a look that could have stunned a rhino, but he's blissfully unaware of the whole thing, just chillin' back there in the backseat. We get to her place -- she's from out of town, and she's staying with her cousin and her cousin's boyfriend. She goes straight to her room and changes into her pajamas, and I tell the photographer in the strongest way possible that he needs to get the fuck out, right the fuck now.

"OK, OK," he says.

HOURS pass. The five of us -- my girl, me, the cousin, the cousin's boyfriend, and the photographer. The photog is chatting, laughing, telling jokes, mixing everyone drinks, chatting one-on-one with my girl -- just generally acting like he's auditioning for the lead role in Cockblock: The Movie.

And eventually, as 2 a.m. melts into 3 a.m., the cousin and her boyfriend vanish into their bedroom. The window of opportunity closes with a snap, and the girl asks if she can take me and the photog home.

It's only because I spent all of 2005 mastering my temper that I didn't kill the guy in the car ride over, or in the elevator ride in the hotel. Making matters worse? My paper's so cheap, we're sharing a hotel room.

He actually woke me up around 4 a.m. with his snoring. I woke up and honest to God pondered killing him. I just didn't think I could zero out my bank account and get to Mexico before the body was discovered.

****

And there it is. Awful. Somebody on the board -- I forget who -- called the guy "The Tony Boselli of cockblocking." It's true.

 

Wow, that was the all-time biggest cockblocker. Sorry, M_W.

 

Holy fucking shit. Not a jury in the world would have convicted you.

 

I'll say it again: This girl was the real thing.

Impossibly bad turn of events. The good news is that it can't get worse, M_W.

 

Go tell your friends. We wouldn't want people to NOT see this just because it's on the journalism thread. Oh, and back to the original theme of THIS thread...as I posted in the original: Whether you get up to go on a bathroom break, lean over and talk to a colleague, start a stupid-ass thread on SJ or play solitaire between plays....who cares? Same difference.

 

I can only hope you're right, bro. Since I find myself single again as December looms, I'm looking forward to taking another shot at "bar game."

Good times.

 

Count me in on the bar times. As I was telling M_W....I know this bar......