These are not the official numbers for The Great White Excursion to the Great White North; these numbers have to be verified by our official accountant, Softball's Tony Gwynn:
Number of stadiums (stadia?) visited: two. I thought Comerica was pretty cool, except for the string a questions about why we were all wearing Brewers gear. (I mean, is it that hard to piece it together? Ten guys...all wearing Brewers shirts...save for the guy in the pink Joe Mauer tee...what the shit did you think we were doing there?) I also enjoyed that almost every Detroiter asked us what our ultimate destination was. Everybody in Detroit seemed to know that we were just passing through on our way somewhere else. There's like an unspoken understanding that their city is dead. Your trip begins at michigan.org, indeed.
The Toronto Mausoleum was a different story. It wasn't as dated as I thought it would be, but Jesus Christ, would it kill you to play the "CHARGE" riff every once in a while? The only time anybody got out of their seats was during the seventh inning stretch, when they played that fucked up "Let's Go Jays!" song. And let me say this: if it is your life's ambition to see 15,000 Canadians rise in unison, sing about the joys of baseball, and make disturbingly-coordinated arm movements ("let's play ball!" raise right arm "go Jays go!" raise both arms "what a great day!" scissor kick), well, friend, Toronto is the city for you. Devil's Threesome and I stood there for a good five minutes, jaws agape, burrows frowed, just trying to figure out what the fuck had happened. Seriously -- is there a training video before the season starts? Do they broadcast this shit on public television? It was like watching wildebeest mate.
Number of strip clubs visited: again, two, and I had impressions of each that were eerily similar to the impressions of the ballparks. The Brass Rail was pretty cool; I liked that they had a giant billboard over the entrance to the club that had half-naked ladies on it. I'm in favor of putting your cards on the table -- just announce "HERE BE SIN" to the world and get on with it. The talent wasn't bad, and the beers were only $10.
The Fillmore, conversely -- I can't say much more than what has already been said below. I'm not involved in marketing or advertising, so I don't know if this is some new trend in the business, but if you're going to market yourself as a strip club, you should probably have, um, strippers. Because if you don't, and it's just guys inside drinking overpriced drinks and not having women flash their pooters, you're basically a gay bar.
Number of times Sheets' Va Jay Jay mentioned Matt Damon in his sleep: one, that we know of. And it might not have been the right time to bring it up, but his point was valid: if you're looking for a girl scout, Matt Damon is your best bet.
Number of toilets plugged: 1 -- and on the first attempt, too! I think that's a record (probably an often-tied record, but a record nonetheless).
Number of prostitutes solicited: ERROR. This data is not contained in this file. Please enter your query again and push enter.
Number of girlfriends/wives dismayed: at least three, that I'm aware of. (To quote Mrs. Rubie Q last night: "I don't care if you get a lap dance. But don't get one from the ugliest fucking stripper in the place! That's just disgusting!" My attempts to explain that: (1) getting a lap dance from the ugliest stripper in the place was not my idea and (2) I took an extended shower after the encounter (there really is no other word for what happened back there) were not well-received.)
Feel free to add any numbers I've missed.