The Ballad of Joey Freshwater
Last April, I had a lady friend who was located in Tuscaloosa. I went to see her one weekend. Lady Friend has a best friend that I now know pretty well, and she wants to go out on the town with us and catch up. (Now r/cfb, I am not exaggerating when I say that this girl is a hard 10 on her worst day. 100% model quality and she knows how to work it.) Model Broad is fresh out of a pretty horrible relationship, and when she meets up with us, she and Lady Friend are obviously hiding something. I frankly don’t care, I just want to get drunk enough to forget I’m in Tuscaloosa. So Lady Friend, Model Broad, and I venture downtown to Innisfree, one of the largest actual bars in Tuscaloosa for college age people. The place is wall to wall people, and the drinks are difficult to obtain. This is preventing me from getting to the level of intoxication required to continue existing in Satan’s Toilet, and I am getting frustrated. Lady Friend notices, tells me to be patient because we’ll probably change bars in a minute, and bought drinks. Model Broad is AWOL. Lady Friend tell Model Broad we’re going to dip, Model Broad freaks out and says she can get us free drinks and out of the crowd. I adamantly pursue this angle. Model Broad disappears for 5 seconds, and then comes back to us and says “Ok, we’re going in the back, whatever you see, just be cool and keep your mouth shut (SPOILER: I don’t.) I think to myself: Ok, cocaine. I don’t partake, but I can definitely play it cool around it, no big deal. We go behind the bar, and I think we’re going over where I see Greg McElroy and his family-- sort of behind the bar but visible from the main area—but we hang a hard turn and end up in the kitchen (which is not currently open) where a guy about my height (6’0-6’2), dressed from shoes to hat in swooshes, is leaned up against the walkway wall sort of like a gatekeeper. The guy just holds his hand out like I needed to meet him. I guess this is the guy that let us back here “Hey, Im Ross.” “Hey Ross.” What a dipshit, he forced an introduction and didn’t even return a first name…Ok, he may be the coke guy. He turns to Lady Friend and asks her name. ”Hey Lady Friend, so your Model Broad’s friend.” I get frustrated because this guy is oozing arrogance and I haven’t gotten one free drink yet. I follow Model Broad further into the bowels of the restaurant and end up in some storage room and Model Broad is looking at me really weird. Ok what am I missing, where’s the coke, where’s Lady Friend? “Hey Model Broad, where’s Lady Friend and that walking Nike commercial? And what about those drinks?” Model Broad hits me for my bluntness but I give no fucks and restate my inquiries. About that time, Lady Friend comes around the corner with the dipshit, and for the first time I see him in some type of light. I swear to you internet, my immediate thought was: Who is this Daniel Tosh looking motherfucker who keeps being so damn sketchy. When he and Lady Friend reach us, I just can’t take it anymore. “Hey I didn’t catch your name earlier guy” “Joey” he replied, while looking at me as if to say, “seriously dude?” and everybody got super weird. I notice Joey has a wedding ring on. “So about those free drinks.” Joey runs off and comes back with Vegas bombs, and while he was gone, Lady Friend and Model Broad are shooting eye bullets at me and I just don’t understand. It was April, football was the last thing I was thinking about, and the absurdity of the situation I had found myself in caused it to not even register. When he returns, he is 2 drinks short, and Model Broad and I end up not getting one. “Model Broad what the fuck” “Hey…Joey I didn’t get a drink.” “Yeah Joey me either.” Side eyes all around yet again. ”Here you go Model Broad, take mine.” Oh hell no. “Thanks buddy” I intercept the drink and pound it. “Is that all?” Lady Friend takes this as a cue to get me the hell out of there, so Lady Friend, Model Broad and I go back to the main area. As soon as we were out of earshot: “Ok what the hell did I miss” “Ross you dumb bastard that was Lane Kiffin.” I haven’t shit my pants in 17 years, but I came close in that moment. “HOLY SHIT I KNEW HE LOOKED LIKE TOSH” then I was hit by a wave of simultaneous disappointment and relief. Disappointment that I didn’t recognize him on the spot, and relief that I didn’t because I definitely would’ve said something dickish. I ask for further explanation of the Joey alias, to which Lady Friend and Model Broad say “He peruses the bar searching for easy chicks, and introduces himself as Joey Freshwater, and says he’s a kinesiology GTA if anyone asks.” “Ok, how the hell did we get back there?” “He spotted Model Broad and has been trying to get with her for a week”. I look at Model Broad, half impressed half not surprised. “He still wears his ring, so I’m not going anywhere near that” she says, “He’s a persistent bastard though, says his marriage is a total sham and that she’s threatening to take the kids if he divorces her.” We later met the owner, who said “Dude (points towards back where Joey Fresh was chillin like a villain) is a complete PR nightmare waiting to happen. I keep trying to get him to a townie bar, but he just won’t leave these kids alone.” I have been sitting on this story for months, just waiting for the dumpster fire that is Lane Kiffin to catch a spark in Tuscaloosa. I know this isn’t the greatest outlet to generate a credible story, but a little gasoline on the impending dumpster fire can only make this more enjoyable for everyone.
