Stay Classy A-Town

I saw a news story yesterday that a few of the members of this site, as well as many friends of the site, will appreciate.

A female bartender (Jamie Day) from the Pub Room in Alton was arrested for bartending nekkid:

Someone called police to complain about the woman, who "was observed totally nude while tending bar at the Pub Room," a brief Alton Police Department report says.

Day reportedly had been performing for male customers and had donned a shirt by the time police arrived.

This type of stuff happens all the time at BertFlex World Headquarters, but I'm shocked that this could happen in a high-brow town like Alton.

If you are having hot, sexy fantasies about this smoking hot bartender, think again:



Barf. Once again: stay classy Alton.

We still need to hang out across the river more often, one would assume the naked talent could only get better...

But that's probably a bad assumption.

Honorary Flexer: The Fat Toad

There's no true "quality" that an Honorary Flexer needs to possess, but the things we generally look out for is 1) cockiness and arrogance, 2) willingness to start fights at any given moment, and 3) an addiction to fatty foods and/or alcohol.

Let's talk about Hideki Irabu. He had a fun Wednesday night back home in Japan. I'll just copy and paste the article from mlb.com, so sit back and enjoy this tale:

TOKYO -- Former New York Yankees pitcher Hideki Irabu was arrested Wednesday for allegedly assaulting a bartender after drinking 20 mugs of beer, a police official said.

Irabu, 39, became angered after his credit card was rejected. He then allegedly pushed the bartender against the wall, pulled his hair, and smashed at least nine liquor bottles at a bar in Osaka, western Japan, a police official said on condition of anonymity, citing department policy.

So he downs 20 mugs of beer (#3 - check). His credit card is rejected and he is apparently insulted (#1). Then he roughs up the barkeep (#2) because it was obviously his fault for screwing everything up. Once again: 20 mugs of beer.

For a quick history lesson on Irabu, he's pretty much famous for being called a "fat pussy toad" by George Steinbrenner (I thought Big Stein called him a "fat Jap" too, but there is conflicting evidence on the internet. Our own Sir has called him, and countless other Asian people "Japs," but I don't think I'd get the two quotable gentlemen mixed up). I also remember Irabu's name being butchered by Harry Caray during his rookie year of '97.

Nerds like me would add that he's famous for being a part of the groundbreaking 1997 Bowman set, as a young HMW was shocked to see a hefty price tag ($15, maybe more?) on his card one day at the baseball card shop.

But back to the moral of the story. If you want to become an honorary flexer, knock out - literally knock out - the three traits listed above and you'll quickly catch our attention.

The unfortunate part of this story is that it gives Sir an idea the next time a waitress calls him "Sir." Hair pulling...slamming her against the wall...smashing beer bottles...

(And I hope I'm there to see it)

Making It Happen

This will be the title of my next, first, and only book about anything. Good morning to all of you Flexers, Big Sandwich with a rare post to paint a picture of my Saturday night that had to be perfectly executed in order to bring you this nugget of gold. Sir requested I tell the story as though I am the crocodile hunter, via a text from HMW, I will decline such request as it would take away from the storytelling experience. (side note: this story has absolutely nothing to do with anything about sports or bacon, just simply an anecdote my friends can get a good laugh at.)

Saturday evening starts out like clockwork; a text from Jacob calling me a fag and asking me if I will be boozing it up tonite. I call him a hooker and tell him I'm coming over. I pick up a 12 of Miller Lite bottles (side note: I'm boycotting In-Bud or An-Bev because fuck that Belgian monopoly. Later I'm told from Ben that Miller is owned by a South African Brewery, to which I tell him that I'm more African than Belgian; I did win the B-Flex Urban Dictionary Bee!) I show up to Jacob's just in time to watch my Cubs lose 4-1 to the Ass-tros , time to drink that one off I say, as Ben walks in the door from work.

Jacob notices that I haven't shaved tonite and says it looks good and that I should grow it out. Ben promptly calls Jacob and I homosexuals. We discuss important issues of the day such as: the patch of back hair on the lead singer of Lamb of God, how the "What What in my butt" song is an actual song and not made up by Butters of South Park, and how Jacob's friends with the "big knock knock's" are meeting up with us tonite. We leave the house around 10'ish, I am about 6 beers in and feeling ready to go.

We show up at our regular watering hole, The Regal Beagle, and plant ourselves in the last 3 stools left at the outside bar. An hour goes by with us making fun of EVERYONE at the bar, watching bad MMA on Spike, drinking very fast and smoking mentholated cigarettes. I leave to go to the bathroom and come back to find Ben chatting it up with an older woman who is now in my seat. Without hesitation I tell her to get off my stool; she says I can sit on her lap, to which I reply you can sit on my lap. Jacob ends up giving up his stool and now begins my evening with a cougar.

After musical chairs, I realize that Ben might have been laying some groundwork with our cougar friend and now I was sitting in-between them. I turn to him and whispered "I'm sorry dude, did I fuck that up?" [And Pause. This where it gets hazy, I probably was almost a 12 pack in at that point, and being that today is Thursday and this happened Saturday night some stuff fades in and out which will make the story even better. Un-Pause.] Ben say's it's cool; I normally wouldn't give it a second thought but Ben has already bagged a cougar and she proceeded to steal this Illini sweatshirt from him.

She grabs my leg and says "I'm a cougar" followed by "I'm old enough to be your mother". She's drinking a Mike's Hard Lemonade which immediately let's me know she's harmless, has bad taste, and wow they still make that stuff?! She proceeds to tell me she's 40 something, has two kids, one who is 26, and she is an ER nurse. Blurry, blurry, blurry, I live in Shipman, blurry, I have a boyfriend. We were not engaged in conversation the entire evening, when I would be talking to friends or waiting for a beer I would notice her being approached by many of Alton/Godfrey's finest male suitors who on more than one occasion would try to swoon our cougar with the always money "You wanna fuck?" I tell her she is a bad cougar and that she should be hitting these assholes up for free drinks.

I throw in some radio stories, she tells me I'm sweet, blurry, blurry, we're making-out. "You are a VERY good kisser" she tells me, followed by the whole old-enough to be your mother line, which is weirding her out, but not me because I'm drunk. (side note: I swear the entire time we were there, which was a good four hours, I only counted maybe 4 drinks total for her.) I give her the whole "age is nothing but a number" line and the "it's the weekend, let's just have fun". Blurry, blurry, making-out, making-out, making-out, blurry, blurry. Let me just say, for a woman her age she was not bad looking or out of shape, which brings us to LAST CALL!

I look around to find all of my friends gone, and me telling her I'd walk her to her car. Next thing we're in the parking lot giving each other a tongue bath, looking back, I bet we we disgusted every single person at the bar. I ask her if she wants to come to my place and she says yes. No sooner we get in the door and clothes start coming off and.......... that is all you pervs are gonna get. She mentioned earlier in the night that she works out, and I believe her. I don't remember, or know, when she left but it was perfect: no last names, no phone number exchange or morning-after awkwardness.

Thus concludes my evening with a cougar, I hope you've enjoyed. I honestly didn't even want to go out that night so I guess I owe a little bit to Jacob and Ben for getting me out of the house. Here is my equation for success: alcoholic friends + don't shave + Miller Lite + mentholated cigarettes + don't be a massive tool + be me = cougar hook-up. Got that? Thanks to Pink Ass Ben for snapping some pics from that night, this is the only one I've seen and now you've seen it too.

My friends are jerks.

AB Takeover Plan B

One upon a time, your intrepid Bertflex.com legal correspondent found himself living in Washington, D.C. for the summer, serving as an intern. When he wasn't in the halls of Congress, or touring the Smithsonian, he was in a local pub, Lindy's Red Lion, near the campus of George Washington University, where he lived for the summer.

While there, he discovered a lot of local beer. Some of it, like Foggy Bottom, was okay. There was one that he still loves after all of these years. Best of yet, it's American-owned, and America's Oldest Brewery. Yuengling (Pronounced Ying-ling) is a wonderful beer. Hack even had Sir's parents bring back two cases that Sir purchased in Pennsylvania back over Thanksgiving. (There is still some left, ready for the next Bertflex.com poker night).

It turns out that Yuengling is now available in Tennessee! Hack is visiting Tennessee in a few weeks, and is he looking forward to loading up the trunk with two cases of the stuff. It's going to be a Smoky and the Bandit-style death race back to St. Louis, even if only in my mind!

If AB gets bought out by those fancy-pants Europeans, maybe it's time to bring America's oldest brewery to St. Louis. They even have an Eagle on their label.

Shocking! Unbelievable! News!: Hrabosky Loves Anheuser-Busch!!

Al Hrabosky wants you to help save AB from dem farriners' takin' over Busch Beer! (Video here)

First they take 'ar beer. Den they take our women. Den...dey take 'AR JOBS!!!

rabble rabble rabble rabble rabble rabble rabble rabble rabble rabble rabble


If Hungo says to save Anheuser-Busch, you better do it.

Dooo it: saveab.com

Yeah, This is My Dad

"The Rod", as he is fondly known as to several of my friends, rose to a new all-time high last night. Granted, he is known as "The Rod" because he likes to head out and hang with his son's friends; be it at a ballgame or driving around in his own pub crawl. I owe him a Cardinals game for his b'day, and since I'm heading into the Lou next weekend, I figured I'd throw down a little cash and take the old man out. Bleacher seats? Not good for a guy in his mid-fiddies. Remarkably, I found a pair of decent seats for a total of $86 for the Sunday night game against the Chubs.

Conversation commences.

Big Head: Dad, I found a pair of seats for the game Sunday. You in?
The Rod: How much?
BH: 86 bones...total
TR: Where at?
BH: Section 267. Second row.
TR: (Silence)
BH: You in?
TR: Well, you think we could drink $100 in beer?
BH: What?
TR: 100 DOLLARS IN BEER (Screaming like I hadn't heard him the first time. Very Chris Tucker-ish to Jackie Chan "Do you understand the words coming outta my mouf?")
BH: Uh...maybe
TR: We should go with the Party Room. All you can drink and eat. The eats are ok, and you can't taste how bad the beer is after the 2nd inning. You can get plowed for $190 for the pair. I can sober up on the MetroLink.

Damn, this is my future.

Your New Hero

I know that many of our supporters enjoy a cold brew every now and again (and again). In fact, it may shock you to learn that a few of our contributors have been known to get really drunk at wedding receptions, but I'm not in the business of naming names, Josh. To the left, I present, your newest hero. Undetered by the small glasses of beer provided to him, this dude takes beer drinking to its logical conclusion. While I applaud him for that, I can neither confirm nor deny if he is related to Tony Siragusa.

I now issue a challenge to any BertFlex drinkers out there. I think that the "Waterfall" method employed by our friend here has a chance to revolutionize the drinking industry as we know it. I'm willing to offer a reward of $10 to the first of our contributors or friends of the site who can successfully Waterfall 4 beers to completion. In fact, if you decide to take the challenge while we're doing one of our remotes, I'll even pay for the 4 beers provided that you succeed in your mission. And if you're real crazy and think you can do 5, there may be a BertFlex.com jersey in it for you.

My weekend in the 'Nati

Cincinnati is known as the "Queen City", I really don't know why, but I know that I sure got the "royal" treatment this past weekend. While making a return visit to see my sister and her fiance I took in the sights and celebrity that Cincy has to offer. Here is a short photographic highlight reel for those who couldn't attend.

Hofbrauhaus Beer Garden- Thomas and I each got a sampler of the homemade beers. They have a house polka band and they serve Bavarian cuisine (fried bolgna sandwich on the menu!) Waitress' wear short ass black skirts and we are lucky enough to get the "heavy" girl. Thomas orders a suspect looking bbq sandwich and proceeds to get food poisoning. I skip eating and go with a liter of beer for my main course.


Trader's World- BIG ASS FLEA Market. The white trash side of me was in heaven, as you could find anything under the sun here including : Barry Larkin baseball cards for days, car stereos, deep fried oreos, whitesnake cassette tapes, and the outdoor game of choice in Ohio CORNHOLE! Which is like washers but with beanbags, the sign immediately reminds me of the Upright Citizens Brigade sketch about "ass pennies"!





More Trader's World- this picture speaks for itself.





The random sports memorabilia shop at the Cincy Mills- Thomas pumped me up for this place and I wasn't disappointed. Look at the disbelief on my face as I hold up a Travis Lee lunchbox! What you probably can't make out is the price tag on this gem. There is an original price of $9.99, but surprisingly, no one was biting on it so they marked it down to $3.99. What horrible parent would send their child to school with this?


More from the random sports store - Your eyes do not deceive you, that is the real thing baby! I've only heard stories of the mythological creature that is the Eddie Taubensee autographed bat, but now I am a believer. I can only imagine he signed this after his "career" year back in '99 with the Reds where he put up 21 bombs, 87 rib's, and a very respectable .311 avg. That price is maybe the most absurd thing I have ever seen.




Cracker Barrel - "The" Tom Jackson apprently lives in the Cincy area and I swear I did a triple take as we were walking into the Cracker Barrel, there he was sitting on a bench outside reading a newspaper. He had sunglasses on, so I wasn't completely sure it was him. But my suspicions were quickly lifted as the hostess announced Jackson party of 3, and who comes hobbling inside but the Bronco's 3 time Pro-Bowl linebacker. I didn't approach him for fear that his "supreme football know-how" might rub off and make me even less successful in my upcoming fantasy football draft.

Who wants to be gross.......again!

The big sandwich receives a monthly online newsletter from St. Louis' "other beer maker" Schlafly, mostly because I want to know what seasonal beers they have on tap and to see if there are any cool boozing events. I feel it is my duty to inform those not in-the-loop about Bertflex's next official outting. August 4th and 5th the Schlafly Tap Room is hosting Schlaffenfest! I know it's going to be damn hot, but this is well worth the trip! Those in attendence will be treated to: a hoosier fashion show (stay with me here) , an insult/kissing booth hosted by the Arch Rival Rollergirls, German-style food and beer, an air guitar contest, and the coup de grace ...... a gooey butter cake eating contest! See you there.





"Hello, I am gooey butter cake, a.k.a GBC, a.k.a the inevitable downfall of all man"






Lets take a quick look at Bertflex's St. Louis Staff and see how they stack up against the GBC.






Jah Slowness- a.k.a Maltliquorman- "wmmf, I , cmmmn haff fhhhhg rofffff...GULP...... AAAAAAAHHHH MORE FOOOOOOD!"






Shaun- a.k.a hazelwood's most wanted- "Slow and steady is the key. With 3 helpings of GBC a day, my mother has conditioned me all my life for this very moment. I cannot fail."







T.P.- a.k.a Sir- "Can we put the GBC in-between two Krispy Kreme donuts? GBC is overrated, I had him on my fantasy team last year and he was HOR-I-BUL!"





Justin- a.k.a big sandwich- "With all the beer I'm going to be taking down, somebody make sure I don't end up near the Roller Girls kissing booth!"

Summer Kickoff

Since I had to work monday afternoon, and was denied my God-given right to get "crookedy" and "grilltastic", I am getting super crunk saturday. There will be BBQ, beer, Cubs/Cards baseball, probably some wiffleball, loud music, and me cursing at the TV. All are welcome to attend this funky good time at the sandwich apartment.

Leon traded, for Beer?

The Fullerton Flyers, an independent minor league baseball team that begins play next month, recently traded for a pitcher from a team in Schaumburg, Ill., whose season is already underway.The Flyers acquired the pitcher by sending the Schaumburg team, also known as the Flyers, 60 cases of Budweiser. That's because the pitcher is Nigel Thatch, who is 0-3 in seven starts but is also the actor who played cocky athlete Leon in Budweiser commercials.


"This trade was a bargain for us," Fullerton General Manager Ed Hart said. "We were prepared to throw in a Clydesdale."Rich Ehrenrich, owner of the Schaumburg team, told the Chicago Tribune, "Nigel really gave us a unique presence in the sports marketplace. In the true spirit of 'Leon Time,' we'll have a cold one courtesy of Fullerton and thank Nigel for his time here.

24 with justin rohour

the following quote was said by justin between the hour of 7pm and 8pm:

"I've got a good buzz going...let's go get some food, &$#@*!!!"


the following drink was guzzled multiple times by justin between the hours of 8pm and 11pm (conservative estimates):

BEER


the following picture was taken between the hour of 9pm and 10pm:


justin (the one holding the beer) pointing out tony's college bowl pick'em failure







the following picture was taken between 10pm and 11pm:



"Santa? Santa's my dogg."







the following phrase was blurted out by justin on the way to the parking lot between 11pm and 11:05pm:

"SHUT UP BITCH!" (directed to anyone who was listening)


the following picture was taken between 11:05pm and 11:15pm:



(exhibit A shows a plastic parrot that justin stole off the trunk of someone's car. don't ask.)







MORE PICTURES TO COME...