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22 December 2023
THIS DATE WITH DEBBIE WAS QUITE A SURPRISE...
Throughout the years, Mother Russia has blessed our Western World with a plethora of luscious traditions. Vodka and The Cold War, for instance, are two of the more well-known gifts from our tundra-roaming, hammer and sickle-loving brothers to the east. But another import from the former U.S.S.R. has remained hidden from the public eye for years. That is, until now. That’s right. Date With Debbie (which I’ve lovingly participated in for the past three years) is actually based on the age-old tradition of Russian Bear Fighting. Sick as it may sound, this whole DWD thing was never initiated to get me “paid and laid.” Rather, it’s a twisted plot by the rest of the tastes like chicken staff to get me “maimed and slain.” If you think I’m making this up, just check out my previous articles about DWD-1 (Last Stand In Attica) and DWD-2 (debbie Goes To Rwanda). Well, praise be to Leshii, the Russian spirit master of the forest and wild animals, for this year’s DWD proved to be a diamond in the proverbial rough. This year’s lucky winner, Jennifer Bell, definitely proved to be the most interesting and outright fun contestant to ever enter the competition. For one, she didn’t have a beard like most of the other women I seem to attract lately. That, and she didn’t look like my mother, which is always a plus! Jennifer and I, along with her friends Sven and Heather, set out on a double date of binge eating at the Thurman Cafe. After surviving the seven mile drive of me making the late Dale Earnhardt look like Mary Poppins on Ritalin, we sipped Milwaukee’s ambrosia of Miller High Life, devoured enough meat to make the whole of PETA’s ranks cry, and laughed at the most ridiculous shit imaginable. I nearly choked after putting half a Coney Dog in my mouth. Then I was force-fed a jalapeno popper, like some sad extra in the background of that Sylvester Stallone/Kurt Russell prison sex movie. And yes, we even managed to talk about Passions. We had to cut the night short due to busy schedules the next day. But in the end, I honestly have to say this year’s DWD was the best yet. Mainly because the people involved were totally on the level with the paper and our sense of humor. Plus, at no point was I forced to sit naked in a kiddie pool full of Jell-O and sing “The National Anthem” in Hebrew. Oops! I wasn’t supposed to mention that. Sorry, Mom.
Throughout the years, Mother Russia has blessed our Western World with a plethora of luscious traditions. Vodka and The Cold War, for instance, are two of the more well-known gifts from our tundra-roaming, hammer and sickle-loving brothers to the east. But another import from the former U.S.S.R. has remained hidden from the public eye for years. That is, until now. That’s right. Date With Debbie (which I’ve lovingly participated in for the past three years) is actually based on the age-old tradition of Russian Bear Fighting. Sick as it may sound, this whole DWD thing was never initiated to get me “paid and laid.” Rather, it’s a twisted plot by the rest of the tastes like chicken staff to get me “maimed and slain.” If you think I’m making this up, just check out my previous articles about DWD-1 (Last Stand In Attica) and DWD-2 (debbie Goes To Rwanda). Well, praise be to Leshii, the Russian spirit master of the forest and wild animals, for this year’s DWD proved to be a diamond in the proverbial rough. This year’s lucky winner, Jennifer Bell, definitely proved to be the most interesting and outright fun contestant to ever enter the competition. For one, she didn’t have a beard like most of the other women I seem to attract lately. That, and she didn’t look like my mother, which is always a plus! Jennifer and I, along with her friends Sven and Heather, set out on a double date of binge eating at the Thurman Cafe. After surviving the seven mile drive of me making the late Dale Earnhardt look like Mary Poppins on Ritalin, we sipped Milwaukee’s ambrosia of Miller High Life, devoured enough meat to make the whole of PETA’s ranks cry, and laughed at the most ridiculous shit imaginable. I nearly choked after putting half a Coney Dog in my mouth. Then I was force-fed a jalapeno popper, like some sad extra in the background of that Sylvester Stallone/Kurt Russell prison sex movie. And yes, we even managed to talk about Passions. We had to cut the night short due to busy schedules the next day. But in the end, I honestly have to say this year’s DWD was the best yet. Mainly because the people involved were totally on the level with the paper and our sense of humor. Plus, at no point was I forced to sit naked in a kiddie pool full of Jell-O and sing “The National Anthem” in Hebrew. Oops! I wasn’t supposed to mention that. Sorry, Mom.
artid
52
Old Image
4_7_dwd.swf
issue
vol 4 - issue 07 (mar 2002)
section
stories