In Which the Pack Attack Faulters

P.J., sole proprietor of his garage, readies his bar for the Green Bay Packers vs. the New York Giants.







No Green Bay celebration could be complete without a crock pot or three. Chris made a really good venison Bar B Que. Kevin brought the timeless Polish Sausage with Sauerkraut, and Cindy made a potato spinach soup. It was all good. (Especially with a little Dave's Insanity added.)





My contribution to the feast was grilled corn dogs, and a case of Coors "The Original Banquet Beer" (whatever the hell that means). I added some Dave's Insanity to the mustard and ketchup. I also added the adobo sauce from a can of chipotle peppers to the ketchup to add a hint of smoky goodness to the heat. It seemed to work well.



The game got under way and the gambling began. Behind those Packers jerseys is a roulette wheel. 20 chips for $1. I managed to break even.






P.J. retired from the Smash up Derby circuit, but not before amassing some serious trophies.







Packer fan down!

Favre wasn't the only one having a rough go of it.






Chris pulled out the guitar to try to ease the Packer pain.

Even though it's been proven that Packer fans prefer Vicodin to music to sooth those aching muscles, Chris was able to get P.J. from pacing a hole in his garage floor after a few chords. Pebbles looks on.