I thought Doug's story about betting a man for his name deserved it's own thread.
For the newer members of the forum, if you want some laughs, search for any posts by the Master's screen name: !Smorgass Bored
!Smorgass Bored
3/28/02
(*<~ It was on my way home from New Orleans two weeks ago ......
<insert flashback music here>
I stopped at my brother's workplace and was talked into spending two
days at Spring Break assisting the young girls in their wet T-shirt
competitions and bikini contests. Man, I've still got it and so do they.
Anyway, it seems that brother lives ON THE BEACH (about 100' to the
surf) of the Gulf of Mexico in a beautiful 3 bedroom home will ALL the
amenities (I'd like to swap places with him- including significant
other). He lives just east of Panama City in a little beach community
called St. Joe Beach. There is a place there (within crawling distance
of the house) called "Regan's Pub & Oyster Bar" Est. Nov.14th 2000
157,920 Oyster's Shucked (when the t-shirt was printed).
After a hard day of rubbing up against nubile young things in Panama
City we ended up at Regan's depleting their oyster stock and keeping the
'shucker' employed.
The bar area had a 4x8 pool table and the proximity to the beach and the
breeze had it in the lower 50°. I had on my Planet 9-Ball jacket with
the BIG logo of a planet that looks like a 9-ball (duh). All the locals
wanted to challenge my brother and I to some partners 8-ball and we
obliged. We won every game for hours, no matter what rules they made up
along the way. We stopped to take a break and eat MORE oysters and one
of the players asked me what I 'did' in Tampa. I told him that I was a
professional pool player (my brother almost blew an oyster out of his
nose). This fellow named Jim-Bob wanted to play me heads up. I told him
that I'd play, but I wouldn't play cheap. He told me that he didn't care
WHAT we played for as he racked the balls and I prepared to break.
I'd told him that I was called Tampa Tubby and as I smashed the balls
I exclaimed that I was playing him for his 'Bob'. At first, he thought
that I was kidding, but as it dawned on him that I was serious he became
VERY nervous. All activity stopped in the building as EVERYONE came to
sweat this game. The most serious game to ever take place in St. Joe
Beach, FL. I got down to the eight ball and Jim-Bob said that I had to
'bank it' AND we were also playing last pocket 8-ball. I'd made my last
ball in the side pocket and was in trouble with the way his balls were
laying on the table. When I asked if I could play the eight off of one
of his balls and he said yes, I kicked the eight from near the end rail
and off his ball into 'my' side pocket. GAME OVER. I'd won 'the Bob'.
Everyone laughed and cheered while now calling me "Tampa Tubby-Bob".
At the same time, everyone now called Jim-Bob simply JIM. Jim was
devastated. It was sinking in that he had lost his 'Bob' and he didn't
like it one little bit. People were now calling him 'Bobless' and his
boss (who was present) threatened to fire him and make him 'Jobless
Bobless'. He's been 'Bobbited'. He wanted a re-match. I said NO. I told
him that I would return in exactly one year and play him ONE GAME and an
opportunity to win his 'Bob' back.
I've spoken to my brother a few times since I've left St. Joe Beach
and he assures me NOONE has called him Jim-Bob since he lost and that
the word has spread up & down the beach.
They're planning a big 'special day' for next year and my return. I'm
thinking about breaking out my sling, walker, eye-patch, etc. to make it
REALLY exciting.
I know that I dance to beat of a different drum (at least I didn't
insist that he throw in a moon pie), but everyone seems to like it (so
far). I didn't get a BOP on the nose. Life is good. Does it get any
better than this ?
Tampa Tubby-Bob
For the newer members of the forum, if you want some laughs, search for any posts by the Master's screen name: !Smorgass Bored
!Smorgass Bored
3/28/02
(*<~ It was on my way home from New Orleans two weeks ago ......
<insert flashback music here>
I stopped at my brother's workplace and was talked into spending two
days at Spring Break assisting the young girls in their wet T-shirt
competitions and bikini contests. Man, I've still got it and so do they.
Anyway, it seems that brother lives ON THE BEACH (about 100' to the
surf) of the Gulf of Mexico in a beautiful 3 bedroom home will ALL the
amenities (I'd like to swap places with him- including significant
other). He lives just east of Panama City in a little beach community
called St. Joe Beach. There is a place there (within crawling distance
of the house) called "Regan's Pub & Oyster Bar" Est. Nov.14th 2000
157,920 Oyster's Shucked (when the t-shirt was printed).
After a hard day of rubbing up against nubile young things in Panama
City we ended up at Regan's depleting their oyster stock and keeping the
'shucker' employed.
The bar area had a 4x8 pool table and the proximity to the beach and the
breeze had it in the lower 50°. I had on my Planet 9-Ball jacket with
the BIG logo of a planet that looks like a 9-ball (duh). All the locals
wanted to challenge my brother and I to some partners 8-ball and we
obliged. We won every game for hours, no matter what rules they made up
along the way. We stopped to take a break and eat MORE oysters and one
of the players asked me what I 'did' in Tampa. I told him that I was a
professional pool player (my brother almost blew an oyster out of his
nose). This fellow named Jim-Bob wanted to play me heads up. I told him
that I'd play, but I wouldn't play cheap. He told me that he didn't care
WHAT we played for as he racked the balls and I prepared to break.
I'd told him that I was called Tampa Tubby and as I smashed the balls
I exclaimed that I was playing him for his 'Bob'. At first, he thought
that I was kidding, but as it dawned on him that I was serious he became
VERY nervous. All activity stopped in the building as EVERYONE came to
sweat this game. The most serious game to ever take place in St. Joe
Beach, FL. I got down to the eight ball and Jim-Bob said that I had to
'bank it' AND we were also playing last pocket 8-ball. I'd made my last
ball in the side pocket and was in trouble with the way his balls were
laying on the table. When I asked if I could play the eight off of one
of his balls and he said yes, I kicked the eight from near the end rail
and off his ball into 'my' side pocket. GAME OVER. I'd won 'the Bob'.
Everyone laughed and cheered while now calling me "Tampa Tubby-Bob".
At the same time, everyone now called Jim-Bob simply JIM. Jim was
devastated. It was sinking in that he had lost his 'Bob' and he didn't
like it one little bit. People were now calling him 'Bobless' and his
boss (who was present) threatened to fire him and make him 'Jobless
Bobless'. He's been 'Bobbited'. He wanted a re-match. I said NO. I told
him that I would return in exactly one year and play him ONE GAME and an
opportunity to win his 'Bob' back.
I've spoken to my brother a few times since I've left St. Joe Beach
and he assures me NOONE has called him Jim-Bob since he lost and that
the word has spread up & down the beach.
They're planning a big 'special day' for next year and my return. I'm
thinking about breaking out my sling, walker, eye-patch, etc. to make it
REALLY exciting.
I know that I dance to beat of a different drum (at least I didn't
insist that he throw in a moon pie), but everyone seems to like it (so
far). I didn't get a BOP on the nose. Life is good. Does it get any
better than this ?
Tampa Tubby-Bob
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One time I was playing in a pool tournament and my opponent had some popcorn in a bag and every time I was at the table, my opponent would shake the bag of popcorn like it was one of those Latin Maracas shakers that make that noise. Doug/Smorgass Bored was sweating my match as he was known to and he could see that I was becoming more and more disturbed as the match went along, so he go up out of his seat without being seen by anyone and slipped in back of where my opponent kept the bag of popcorn. 
