Met some former co-workers for drinks for one of their birthdays tonight.
Had a blast with some booze, food and good conversation and of course bitching about work - but that's what friends are for.
So, Happy birthday to you again birthday girl and to everyone else - I had a pretty fucking good time.
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Drinking
I am not sure if this is something that should be admitted, but I love being drunk.
That feeling between buzzed and fucked up is one of the best feelings in the world and if you get to share it with others then more power to you.
However, once I get in that "zone" I do admit to some un-pure thoughts.
The first being Del Taco.
I know I have said this before (and I think VegasDWP commented) but when I'm drunk I sure do love me some Del Taco. I've got this huge craving for it right now but I don't feel that risking driving there and back is really worthwhile.
I want to order 4-8 taco's and some of their hot sauce and just chow down. Oh does that sound tantalizing right about now.
So, to all you sober people - I'm sorry.
To all my drunk peeps - someone stop by Del Taco for me and chow down a bit since I don't get to.
Now, to get some sleep and wake up way too bloody early.
I accidentally volunteered myself to wake up early and go help unload the truck and throw freight and I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to be capable of doing that but I'll try my damnedest.
And here is a link to the reason why I love the band Sweaty Nipples - Enjoy
http://www.fugly.com/audio/370/Sweaty_Nipples_Touch_My_Cum.html
That feeling between buzzed and fucked up is one of the best feelings in the world and if you get to share it with others then more power to you.
However, once I get in that "zone" I do admit to some un-pure thoughts.
The first being Del Taco.
I know I have said this before (and I think VegasDWP commented) but when I'm drunk I sure do love me some Del Taco. I've got this huge craving for it right now but I don't feel that risking driving there and back is really worthwhile.
I want to order 4-8 taco's and some of their hot sauce and just chow down. Oh does that sound tantalizing right about now.
So, to all you sober people - I'm sorry.
To all my drunk peeps - someone stop by Del Taco for me and chow down a bit since I don't get to.
Now, to get some sleep and wake up way too bloody early.
I accidentally volunteered myself to wake up early and go help unload the truck and throw freight and I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to be capable of doing that but I'll try my damnedest.
And here is a link to the reason why I love the band Sweaty Nipples - Enjoy
http://www.fugly.com/audio/370/Sweaty_Nipples_Touch_My_Cum.html
Friday, August 03, 2012
Overbooked
I appear to have overbooked myself for the next few days. For those of you who know me I never make plans. I hate making plans. I prefer to just kind of go with the flow and if something comes up then all is cool, and if nothing comes up it'll give me time to catch up with Torchwood or Boardwalk Empire or something.
The de-facto number one reason why I hate to make plans or agree to things is because of situations like this very weekend.
Tonight after work I'm heading out to First Friday for Funnel Cakes. I don't know what First Friday is but once I heard Funnel Cakes I was sold. I've been talking about Funnel Cakes (and they are so important that they DO get capitalized) for the entire week. I have made others excited to the point that they have called me after getting out of work and asking me where the Funnel Cakes are. Yes, the fat boy is going to feast.
After my Funnel Cake adventures (and hoping it consists of a litle bit of beer, oh please tell me there will be beer) and I've said my goodnights to these friends I'm probably heading out to meet Melissa and Alex again for another night of debauchery. The good news is that this will be late (if I can stay awake to go out that is) and as such the ladies will have already had a few hours of drinking on me. They are hitting up a couple of places that I really want to go but suspect that they'll just be at some random club by the time I'm available. Not going to give away names because I don't want y'all to be disappointed when I can't report about getting drunk somewhere cool.
Saturday I've evidentally got about eighteeen things that I'm supposed to be doing and I feel bad for blowing pretty much everyone off. I somehow managed to get invited to a home poker game and I hope that they don't hate me for backing out of the first game I am supposed to attend. I didn't realize that it also happened to fall on the same day as some other things.
I've got a drinking engagement that I might be attending (however, it's going to depend on how late other things run, how drunk I get tonight, how late I'm up tonight and how much of a constitution I have).
However, my main plans center around a birthday party and two of my favorit people. We will probably be hitting up a breakfast some place I have never eaten and I'm really looking forward to that. We've got plans to go out and have some fun as well before the whole "gift giving" experience. And who knows, maybe if things work out a dinner.
It's sort of a "lets just see what happens" type of plan but I'm sure a good time will be had by all.
Sunday currently appears to be a day of rest. Don't go out. Don't drink. Don't wake up early or stay out late. Just chill out and watch some movies or TV shows and relax because come Monday it's time to get back to the whole grind of the job.
I need to take my lunch but I don't want to eat anything so that I can save some room for the Funnel Cake. I hope they have a "drench it in strawberry and powdered sugar" option because this fat kid wants to pig out.
I hope all of your weekends are eventful and there is enough enjoyment to go around.
I hope that I get some fun stories to share next time I get to sit in front of a keyboard!
The de-facto number one reason why I hate to make plans or agree to things is because of situations like this very weekend.
Tonight after work I'm heading out to First Friday for Funnel Cakes. I don't know what First Friday is but once I heard Funnel Cakes I was sold. I've been talking about Funnel Cakes (and they are so important that they DO get capitalized) for the entire week. I have made others excited to the point that they have called me after getting out of work and asking me where the Funnel Cakes are. Yes, the fat boy is going to feast.
After my Funnel Cake adventures (and hoping it consists of a litle bit of beer, oh please tell me there will be beer) and I've said my goodnights to these friends I'm probably heading out to meet Melissa and Alex again for another night of debauchery. The good news is that this will be late (if I can stay awake to go out that is) and as such the ladies will have already had a few hours of drinking on me. They are hitting up a couple of places that I really want to go but suspect that they'll just be at some random club by the time I'm available. Not going to give away names because I don't want y'all to be disappointed when I can't report about getting drunk somewhere cool.
Saturday I've evidentally got about eighteeen things that I'm supposed to be doing and I feel bad for blowing pretty much everyone off. I somehow managed to get invited to a home poker game and I hope that they don't hate me for backing out of the first game I am supposed to attend. I didn't realize that it also happened to fall on the same day as some other things.
I've got a drinking engagement that I might be attending (however, it's going to depend on how late other things run, how drunk I get tonight, how late I'm up tonight and how much of a constitution I have).
However, my main plans center around a birthday party and two of my favorit people. We will probably be hitting up a breakfast some place I have never eaten and I'm really looking forward to that. We've got plans to go out and have some fun as well before the whole "gift giving" experience. And who knows, maybe if things work out a dinner.
It's sort of a "lets just see what happens" type of plan but I'm sure a good time will be had by all.
Sunday currently appears to be a day of rest. Don't go out. Don't drink. Don't wake up early or stay out late. Just chill out and watch some movies or TV shows and relax because come Monday it's time to get back to the whole grind of the job.
I need to take my lunch but I don't want to eat anything so that I can save some room for the Funnel Cake. I hope they have a "drench it in strawberry and powdered sugar" option because this fat kid wants to pig out.
I hope all of your weekends are eventful and there is enough enjoyment to go around.
I hope that I get some fun stories to share next time I get to sit in front of a keyboard!
Thursday, August 02, 2012
The Dead Liver Diaries
So last night was the first night of drink drank drunking for Melissa's month long Vegas Vacation.
Let me start over.
1st things first and that is (probably an early) Happy Birthday to a new reader (hope you stick around) Alex who thought I sounded cool and promised that she would NOT shank me! So, Hap Hap Happy Bday Alex.
2nd item of business is - I've asked permission and was told I could use a real name so - I introduce to you my favoritest drinking buddy of the Las Vegas Years - Melissa (picture to follow).
Now where was I? Oh right - Melissa is on a month long vacation in Vegas - Alex just arrived into town yesterday and both girls wanted to dress up and party like rock stars, so we hit the town.
First fun part of the evening was checking into their hostel (sounds so much better than Hotel Room). The lady who does the checking in wrote down the wrong information, so when we got to the room there was already a "privacy" sign on the door and the keys magically didn't work.
A quick (20 minutes) phone call to the front desk later she was informed that they gave her the wrong info and transferred her to a black hole where the phone just rang endlessly with no help in sight.
Finally, by random happenstance, she looked at something else that had her room info written on it and we come to find out that the room was correct but the floor was wrong. So, a quick jaunt to a different level and the keys started magically working.
Now it's the fun time for the grrouch where he gets to watch hotties get undressed and into something a bit more revealing. However, all of that was done in the bathroom, out of sight and *pout.*
Time for Dinner - Batista's Hole in the Wall.
This place was swanky (I don't know what that word really means, I won't look it up as I'm wasting company time right now and honestly I just like the word so it's staying) and adorable. There was a small crypt keeper guy playing an according and singing (badly) table to table. Melissa thought he was adorable as hell and gave him a good tip (karma points probably).
After dinner was ordered the great garlic bread and salads were brought out along with the main course: the wine. One gallon of white and one gallong of red. We were to get a 3rd gallon but that was going to be physically impossible.
I'm not a wine drinker. Never have been and probably never will be. There was one wine that I've enjoyed over the course of my years that was introduced to me just a few years back and that is Lambruscia (or however you spell it). It's a bitter tasting red wine with a nice alcohol content that gets you messed up fairly well. That last part is probably the whole reason that I like the wine.
So, when our wines arrived I was hesitant and actually planning on not even drinking any of them, I was going to stick to my water. However a smile and some peer pressure later my glass was full and I was drinking some white wine.
I don't know exactly how to describe it, but I was not enamored with the white wine - the flavor was not horrible but it was missing something - almost like it was too dry.
However, when I found msyelf faced with a glass of the red wine I noticed it's likeness to the cheap Lambruscia that I've become fond of, it was missing a good deal of the bitterness that the Lambruscia has though.
Half a bottle later I stopped pretending to acutally "drink" the wine and my glass pretty much turned into a shot glass.
I 100% admit right now that while the food was good and plenty and not a single one of us could finish our course I will be going back because of the wine. I need a second opinion afterall :)
So, I'm taking sign up's - who wants to go?
The good thing about strip traffice at 8 pm is that it's a lot of stop and go, which is easier to navigate when you are drunk (in my HUMBLE opinion). Add the full blast of the AC in my face and I felt like a million bucks by the time we ended up at Caesar's Palace on our date with destiny to glance at Christian Bale and his stupid dorky face on the way to the bathroom.
That story is too short and boring so I'm not going to bother talking about it. However in the midst of all the drinking we did get a few photo ops.
These pics are all over all 3 of our Facebooks and as such I assume (stab me if I'm wrong) that the ladies won't mind if they are shared here.
If you want them removed, text me!
Favorite quote of the evening. As we were in the hotel room and the ladies were preparing for their night out on the town with pimp serge, Alex put on the shirt you see her wearing and asked if it looked too slutty, then decided that "I didn't fucking come to Vegas to NOT dress like a slut."
Ladies, it was a fucking fun evening!
Let me start over.
1st things first and that is (probably an early) Happy Birthday to a new reader (hope you stick around) Alex who thought I sounded cool and promised that she would NOT shank me! So, Hap Hap Happy Bday Alex.
2nd item of business is - I've asked permission and was told I could use a real name so - I introduce to you my favoritest drinking buddy of the Las Vegas Years - Melissa (picture to follow).
Now where was I? Oh right - Melissa is on a month long vacation in Vegas - Alex just arrived into town yesterday and both girls wanted to dress up and party like rock stars, so we hit the town.
First fun part of the evening was checking into their hostel (sounds so much better than Hotel Room). The lady who does the checking in wrote down the wrong information, so when we got to the room there was already a "privacy" sign on the door and the keys magically didn't work.
A quick (20 minutes) phone call to the front desk later she was informed that they gave her the wrong info and transferred her to a black hole where the phone just rang endlessly with no help in sight.
Finally, by random happenstance, she looked at something else that had her room info written on it and we come to find out that the room was correct but the floor was wrong. So, a quick jaunt to a different level and the keys started magically working.
Now it's the fun time for the grrouch where he gets to watch hotties get undressed and into something a bit more revealing. However, all of that was done in the bathroom, out of sight and *pout.*
Time for Dinner - Batista's Hole in the Wall.
This place was swanky (I don't know what that word really means, I won't look it up as I'm wasting company time right now and honestly I just like the word so it's staying) and adorable. There was a small crypt keeper guy playing an according and singing (badly) table to table. Melissa thought he was adorable as hell and gave him a good tip (karma points probably).
After dinner was ordered the great garlic bread and salads were brought out along with the main course: the wine. One gallon of white and one gallong of red. We were to get a 3rd gallon but that was going to be physically impossible.
I'm not a wine drinker. Never have been and probably never will be. There was one wine that I've enjoyed over the course of my years that was introduced to me just a few years back and that is Lambruscia (or however you spell it). It's a bitter tasting red wine with a nice alcohol content that gets you messed up fairly well. That last part is probably the whole reason that I like the wine.
So, when our wines arrived I was hesitant and actually planning on not even drinking any of them, I was going to stick to my water. However a smile and some peer pressure later my glass was full and I was drinking some white wine.
I don't know exactly how to describe it, but I was not enamored with the white wine - the flavor was not horrible but it was missing something - almost like it was too dry.
However, when I found msyelf faced with a glass of the red wine I noticed it's likeness to the cheap Lambruscia that I've become fond of, it was missing a good deal of the bitterness that the Lambruscia has though.
Half a bottle later I stopped pretending to acutally "drink" the wine and my glass pretty much turned into a shot glass.
I 100% admit right now that while the food was good and plenty and not a single one of us could finish our course I will be going back because of the wine. I need a second opinion afterall :)
So, I'm taking sign up's - who wants to go?
The good thing about strip traffice at 8 pm is that it's a lot of stop and go, which is easier to navigate when you are drunk (in my HUMBLE opinion). Add the full blast of the AC in my face and I felt like a million bucks by the time we ended up at Caesar's Palace on our date with destiny to glance at Christian Bale and his stupid dorky face on the way to the bathroom.
That story is too short and boring so I'm not going to bother talking about it. However in the midst of all the drinking we did get a few photo ops.
These pics are all over all 3 of our Facebooks and as such I assume (stab me if I'm wrong) that the ladies won't mind if they are shared here.
If you want them removed, text me!
Favorite quote of the evening. As we were in the hotel room and the ladies were preparing for their night out on the town with pimp serge, Alex put on the shirt you see her wearing and asked if it looked too slutty, then decided that "I didn't fucking come to Vegas to NOT dress like a slut."
Ladies, it was a fucking fun evening!
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| The visiting Alex |
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| I'm Wasted but in good company |
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| Melissa |
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| Will you Marry Me? |
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| In the men's room at Batista's |
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| Drunk and Hungry but I said no |
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Testing the Ole Liver Out
I had started to drunkenly type up a post about drinking after inventory. I started typing it on my phone while drinking and eventually I'll go back and finish it as I thought I was making a good point about the difference between big city life and small city life.
However, that's not what I came here to talk to you all about today. Friday I went out drinking (it's fucking tradition - leave me alone) and then yesterday I ended up having a couple with a friend as well. Now here is where things start to break down and my body will go into rejection.
My current favoritest drinking buddy in the whole wide world is in town and she brought a crazy friend (her words, not mine. Crazy friend - if by some off chance you happen to ever read this - Stab your friend for saying it, not the cool fat white guy you'll be drinking with. I'm totally innocent! I swear). Tomorrow night is night number 1 of what will end up being heavy drinking. Thursday I don't go to work until 11:30 or noon so this is a built in excuse to stay out late and drink to excess.
However, where it's really going to get me is that I'll be drinking with two much younger and very attractive ladies which means that I'm going to be doing my best to keep up and not look like an old fuck who can't handle his liquor. I accept the challenge.
Saturday evening might also be a night of drinking depending on how the rest of the day goes. A certain hair stylist is trying to get her girls to go out drinking with her and when that doesn't work according to plan I'm totally going to be a stand in for one of the girls. I'm not quite as pretty, don't have as much hair but dammit I've still got the tits..... er, this paragraph took a turn for the worst. Let me regroup.
So, Saturday I might end up meeting her and some of her other friends out for cheep booze and cheaper entertainment.
I skipped Friday. From what I understand there is something called First Friday that I'm being invited out to. I've been told there is booze and funnel cakes and if anyone knows me I'm all over funnel cakes like a fat kid is all over.... um.... funnel cakes. Yes. I haven't had one in a damned long time and this makes me miss the fairs back home just a little tiny bit. Not too much, I think of the other crap back there and I stop missing the place but dammit I miss hot, fresh made, powder sugar covered blow's all the fuck over you with a small breeze funnel cakes.
Hellz To The Yeahz.
Holla atcha boy!
However, that's not what I came here to talk to you all about today. Friday I went out drinking (it's fucking tradition - leave me alone) and then yesterday I ended up having a couple with a friend as well. Now here is where things start to break down and my body will go into rejection.
My current favoritest drinking buddy in the whole wide world is in town and she brought a crazy friend (her words, not mine. Crazy friend - if by some off chance you happen to ever read this - Stab your friend for saying it, not the cool fat white guy you'll be drinking with. I'm totally innocent! I swear). Tomorrow night is night number 1 of what will end up being heavy drinking. Thursday I don't go to work until 11:30 or noon so this is a built in excuse to stay out late and drink to excess.
However, where it's really going to get me is that I'll be drinking with two much younger and very attractive ladies which means that I'm going to be doing my best to keep up and not look like an old fuck who can't handle his liquor. I accept the challenge.
Saturday evening might also be a night of drinking depending on how the rest of the day goes. A certain hair stylist is trying to get her girls to go out drinking with her and when that doesn't work according to plan I'm totally going to be a stand in for one of the girls. I'm not quite as pretty, don't have as much hair but dammit I've still got the tits..... er, this paragraph took a turn for the worst. Let me regroup.
So, Saturday I might end up meeting her and some of her other friends out for cheep booze and cheaper entertainment.
I skipped Friday. From what I understand there is something called First Friday that I'm being invited out to. I've been told there is booze and funnel cakes and if anyone knows me I'm all over funnel cakes like a fat kid is all over.... um.... funnel cakes. Yes. I haven't had one in a damned long time and this makes me miss the fairs back home just a little tiny bit. Not too much, I think of the other crap back there and I stop missing the place but dammit I miss hot, fresh made, powder sugar covered blow's all the fuck over you with a small breeze funnel cakes.
Hellz To The Yeahz.
Holla atcha boy!
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| Ladies, say your prayers! |
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Booze blondes and boobs
A friend in town this week and tonight is her last night, so instead of blowing her off for her whole trip to Vegas I'll be hanging out and reliving the good times (you know, like two months ago).
I've also got another buddy coming along so it's going to be a threesome of disaster. Or a Dastardly meanage-o-jaeger.
I'm quite looking forward to it because I don't believe that I have punished my liver enough over my lifetime - shit, I didn't start drinking until I was almost 22 after all.
The only minor draw back is that this whole 6 am shift at work tomorrow morning is not looking very appealing. I'm 97% positive that by the time I get home from work tomorrow I'll be taking a nap before starting my weekend.
Speaking of which - my weekend plans are not 100% set yet either. I've got some feelers floating out there (unfortunately none of them involve me doing any of the feeling) and I'm sure it's going to be a fun time no matter what. I want to at least meet up with Rob while he is in town at the very least for burgers somewhere. That will be discussed more after payday though. I need to look at my finances and see where I stand heading into the beginning of June.
If things go the way I'd like them to go then I'll hopefully be hitting up a poker session with him at his favorite locals joint and, only if the gods smile down upon us, maybe playing with his favorite female poker player Prudence as well.
Oh - I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener
so everyone could eat me.
I've also got another buddy coming along so it's going to be a threesome of disaster. Or a Dastardly meanage-o-jaeger.
I'm quite looking forward to it because I don't believe that I have punished my liver enough over my lifetime - shit, I didn't start drinking until I was almost 22 after all.
The only minor draw back is that this whole 6 am shift at work tomorrow morning is not looking very appealing. I'm 97% positive that by the time I get home from work tomorrow I'll be taking a nap before starting my weekend.
Speaking of which - my weekend plans are not 100% set yet either. I've got some feelers floating out there (unfortunately none of them involve me doing any of the feeling) and I'm sure it's going to be a fun time no matter what. I want to at least meet up with Rob while he is in town at the very least for burgers somewhere. That will be discussed more after payday though. I need to look at my finances and see where I stand heading into the beginning of June.
If things go the way I'd like them to go then I'll hopefully be hitting up a poker session with him at his favorite locals joint and, only if the gods smile down upon us, maybe playing with his favorite female poker player Prudence as well.
Oh - I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener
so everyone could eat me.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Social Butterfly this week
I'm just going to come out and say that I love my real estate agent.
After work I also hit up a Blockbuster that is closing but I was pretty much a day or two late on that adventure. When I got there there were probably only about 10 video games left and the only one I wanted was Space Marine but I just didn't feel like shelling out the $10 bucks for it. Instead I picked through a bunch of movies and walked away with.
Weeds Season 2 and 3 on Blue Ray for $4.99 each.
When I was looking at buying the house she was so patient and showed house after house after house and always kept a great personality about her. After getting the first rejection (from a bank who wouldn't sell to me at $7k more than the listed price) I took some time off and she kept sending me reminder emails that whenever I was ready, etc.
So, here we are over a year after the house was bought and she still keeps in touch and says hi once in a while and whenever I ask her some questions she is always quick with an answer. The other day I got a hold of her about getting some paperwork that I currently need and yesterday after a couple of phone calls she worked the paperwork up for me and emailed it to save me from having to go running around town and getting what I needed that way.
So, Boo-Ya for my agent. I hope I get friends looking for places to live so that I can recommend her!
Last night I watched:
Even though this is not my type of movie (blah, emotions, argh) it still wasn't too bad. The best part of this movie is obviously that Whitney used to have a voice of gold before she got involved with Bobby Brown and they decided to drug away both of their futures (Remember, was a prominent recording artist at one point as well. Ghostbusters 2 theme anyone? heh).
Even though I thought I had seen it before I didn't remember any of it, so I guess I'm now resorting to watching chick flicks from the 90's that I have never seen. Oh, I sure hope Waiting to Exhale is next!!!!!
After work I also hit up a Blockbuster that is closing but I was pretty much a day or two late on that adventure. When I got there there were probably only about 10 video games left and the only one I wanted was Space Marine but I just didn't feel like shelling out the $10 bucks for it. Instead I picked through a bunch of movies and walked away with.
Weeds Season 2 and 3 on Blue Ray for $4.99 each.
Some Watchman cartoon, Nine and Wall Street (all on Blue Ray).
I went through a lot of the "no case" DVD's where were 50 cents each and ended up not getting any of them because 1) - they are DVD's and I'm becoming a Blue Ray snob 2)scratches and 3) pretty much every TV Season that I had found was missing one of the discs.
Case in Point - Soprano's Season 2 I could not find Disc 1. Same with Rome, Carnivale and Deadwood. I really wanted Deadwood but it was missing a disc and conversely I found like 4 Disc 2's but that didn't help me.
They had a lot of other Season's boxed up for about $5 each but I didn't want the DVD versions or I just told myself that the ones I was going to buy are available on Netflix and I could just start that service up (Or Amazon Prime) again instead of buying this old junky DVD format.
As I was checking out there was a Mexican family in front dominating one of the registers. I feel bad for the guy who had to check them out as they probably brought close to 400-500 videos up to the register and had him open every one so that they could inspect the disc and see if they wanted to buy or not. Good for them I guess but I felt it was a bit assholiness on their part because they were rejecting about 1/3rd of them and they also were grabbing like 5 of one movie and bringing them up just to find the best disc which meant that no one else in the store could even look at those discs until the family was done because they grabbed every copy. Whatever, it was DVD and not much concern for me.
Tonight I've got a friend in town visiting and I think her and I will be getting a bit of booze in us and then on Friday I do believe that I'm taking Jennifer Gay out for some cocktails.
Jennifer - if you read this how about a local comedy show as well? It's cheap ($5) and enjoyable and the waitress asks for drinks fairly often.
If you don't read this how about I just suggest it via text?
That be all because it's time to have someone beam me to work for another day of playing catch-up!
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
A River Runs Through It
I've got a lot of random things to share from my past but the problem is that I forget most of it. Usually it's a friend who reminds me of something that happened to bring back the memories. This story is one such story that has a tragic ending and I want to thank Carmel for bringing it to my attention.
During the course of the day there was much begging by Trish to take the spank-mobile out for a ride. This was the first time he had brought into town his brand spanking new (pun or no pun, you decide?) Ford Mustang which was a thing of beauty compared to what we were used to riding around in - Trish's favorite car of all time - the Chevy Cavalier! In fact, to this day she tells me she's a big fan of Cleveland Basketball 100% because of this car (there may not be a whole lot of truth in that last statement).
I don't recall if it ever happened or not but I do remember that she was teased with the possibility for the entire weekend. The thought of driving a car with such power was definitely a high point for her after having to deal with such manliness as belching and farting competitions all weekend long and the impending "I'm going to try to out drink you" that would occur later in the evening as the show approached.
Evening approaches and the 40 pack dwindles to nothing and in a rare display of manliness I decide that I'm going to get 100% wasted during the show. I am going to attempt to out drink the out drinkable. Even though he had a head start and should be feeling it, he was acting completely sober and could pack down more alcohol than any man I have ever seen before (or since for that matter).
Taking our seats at the show in a room where everyone is packed in tight and the waitresses are doing their best to try and keep everyone happy. The first time a waitress approaches us Spank shoots her a $20 and tells her to keep them coming back plentiful and often - I look back now and realize he was a smart man.
Over the course of the evening she hit our table up more than any other table and if she couldn't figure out where a drink went we got all of her extras.
It's impossible to recall how many we drank and of what varieties, I just know that every time I had an empty glass I had at least two more waiting for me on the table. Booze Heaven.
Top of the hour approaches and the room is getting into a fevered impatience. People are taking sides, Literally.
One side of the packed room starts a chant "The other side sucks, the other side sucks, the other side sucks."
It's met with "The other side swallows..." as if it were pre-planned.
A few minutes to show time the audience stops razzing itself and turns its attention to the main attraction. Most of the chatter dies down but in an uprising the entire room is shouting "Sing fucker sing, Sing fucker sing."
Glasses are raised and beer is spilled, and the place breaks out in a huge ovation and cheer as the curtain is drawn back and none other than the amazing, the filthy, Dr Dirty makes his presence on stage and walks up to the Piano center stage.
A short summary is that the show went on and I packed an amount of alcohol into me that I never have before. I started (and probably ended) with at least two round of liquid cocaine and a mixture of drinks in between that I can't even begin to describe. By the time we left after the 2 and a half hour show I could barely even walk. And now I get to the important part of this story.
I'm f'd up, wobbling and almost in need of assistance to walk, talk or think.
Before heading into the outside, the cold harsh Erie Pennsylvania outside I make my last trip to the rest room. In fact we pretty much all do. No only are the restrooms in the Kings Rook club a great place to relieve one's self but they also have some awesome eye candy.
You see, the men's rooms in the Rook are wall papered with pictures of hot chicks out of Playboy's and Penthouses - wall to wall titties and ass. It's great. Focus on a great pair of tits and relieve yourself (urinate sir, don't get the wrong idea).
I stumble down the steps and pretend I'm doing a dance number that I just made up and wasn't actually trying to figure out how walk again and our group meets up to head to our ride.
We get to the car that will usher us back home and Vinnie decides that now is the proper time to relieve himself - you see the lines were too long inside and he really didn't have to go until that cold air hit him. Now he must go or there will be a flood inside the car on the ride home and nobody wanted that.
He went and went and went. Maybe he had been holding it in all day long for this one moment or maybe it's that it was probably 13 degrees outside but it felt like he took a day and a half and by the time he was finished there was a large stream of piss running in front of the car.
We were parked on a bit of a slope and in order for me to get to the car I had to navigate over the river of urine. This is the part where alcohol takes over my brain. All normal lines of logic are gone - I'm enthralled by the size of the stream that had been created and my brain absolutely cannot figure out what to do. So stop a foot in front of the stream and try to wrap my head around how I am possible going to take a large enough step without losing my balance and falling. After all, small steps are giving me issues right now and I've got that drunk boy swagger going on. I'm a fucking weeble - I'm just not falling down.
So this is when Trish says something that to this day I'm sure she regrets (not realizing that my mind is working in 100% literal translations). "Babe, just jump over it"
Jump?
grrouch: "brain, did she just say jump"
brain :"yes grrouch, she sure as shit did, you remember how to jump right?"
grrouch: "fuck yes I do, bend at the knees and propel with force"
brain (looking away): "rut roh shaggy"
Jump - it's a simple act that I found out we take for granted.
How many times can we perform this act without thinking about it and not mess up a simple jump landing 3-5 inches in front of where we started?
With more alcohol than blood in my system I attempted to do what I have done a million times over the course of my life.
I started with bending at my knees.
However, instead of a slight bend I had a full bend - putting my ass near the pavement as if I had been crouching on the floor.
I exerted as much energy as drunkenly possible by propelling myself up from this now-crouched position to throw myself over this epic river of piss that stood between me and my destination, shifting all of my excess weight as I went.
In the air, practically flying, I'm a fucking Gymnast, I'm Kerri Strug or whatever that skinny bitches name was.
Landing.
I stick it.
I'm amazing.
I am a God among men. I landed past my target, both feet touching the ground.
However, when I landed my legs were straight and my knees were locked.
When I hit, my knee buckles and my balances loses it's fight - Gravity takes over.
I twirl my arms in the air and start to fall backwards and end with a crash landing, my ass sitting square in the middle of the epic obstacle that I just tried to avoid.
To this day I still blame the whole instance on Trish telling me to jump. If she changes her word "Jump" to "step" the day is saved and we don't have to figure out how to take a 250 pound, ass soaked in piss, drunk guy home - but alas the (now) Trish, the editor, choose her words poorly and suffered because of it.
Looking back on the story now, I'm going to take credit for her future business of being an editor (not the writer portion) because of all the mental scaring that this one incident gave her. She vowed to never let one poorly chosen word ruin a perfectly good evening again.
And I end with one of Dr. Dirty's Poems.
Twinkle Twinkle
Steam of Piss
All My Beers
Have come to This
The day didn't even start very normal because I had visitors in town. This was during my college years, living on campus and my good friend Spank was visiting and brought his cousin along for the trip.
You see, there was a bi-annual tradition that I forced all my friends to partake in and that's why I had the visitors. Every show that came along I made a habit of bringing at least one new person along who had not seen the show before, Vinny was the man this time.
The biggest abnormality to the day was that Spank's cousin was a professional alcoholic which I had not interacted with in quite a few years. We started the day with a trip to the Beer Distributor so that he could start his daily routine; we bought a 40 pack.
Before lunch hit he had already downed about 6.
So, lets meet our players shall we.
grrouchie: protagonist and all around swell guy
Spank: best friend from high school, in town visiting and showing off his new 'Stang to my chick.
Trish: My chick at the time- though nothing offensive is in this story she opened her self up for future references :)
Vinnie: Spanks cousin (some temptations cannot be resisted).
During the course of the day there was much begging by Trish to take the spank-mobile out for a ride. This was the first time he had brought into town his brand spanking new (pun or no pun, you decide?) Ford Mustang which was a thing of beauty compared to what we were used to riding around in - Trish's favorite car of all time - the Chevy Cavalier! In fact, to this day she tells me she's a big fan of Cleveland Basketball 100% because of this car (there may not be a whole lot of truth in that last statement).
I don't recall if it ever happened or not but I do remember that she was teased with the possibility for the entire weekend. The thought of driving a car with such power was definitely a high point for her after having to deal with such manliness as belching and farting competitions all weekend long and the impending "I'm going to try to out drink you" that would occur later in the evening as the show approached.
Evening approaches and the 40 pack dwindles to nothing and in a rare display of manliness I decide that I'm going to get 100% wasted during the show. I am going to attempt to out drink the out drinkable. Even though he had a head start and should be feeling it, he was acting completely sober and could pack down more alcohol than any man I have ever seen before (or since for that matter).
Taking our seats at the show in a room where everyone is packed in tight and the waitresses are doing their best to try and keep everyone happy. The first time a waitress approaches us Spank shoots her a $20 and tells her to keep them coming back plentiful and often - I look back now and realize he was a smart man.
Over the course of the evening she hit our table up more than any other table and if she couldn't figure out where a drink went we got all of her extras.
It's impossible to recall how many we drank and of what varieties, I just know that every time I had an empty glass I had at least two more waiting for me on the table. Booze Heaven.
Top of the hour approaches and the room is getting into a fevered impatience. People are taking sides, Literally.
One side of the packed room starts a chant "The other side sucks, the other side sucks, the other side sucks."
It's met with "The other side swallows..." as if it were pre-planned.
A few minutes to show time the audience stops razzing itself and turns its attention to the main attraction. Most of the chatter dies down but in an uprising the entire room is shouting "Sing fucker sing, Sing fucker sing."
Glasses are raised and beer is spilled, and the place breaks out in a huge ovation and cheer as the curtain is drawn back and none other than the amazing, the filthy, Dr Dirty makes his presence on stage and walks up to the Piano center stage.
The white suit, hat and bow-tie are all part of the routine. He comes out looking like a million dollars and sings dirty songs to a crowd of all denominations. His routine is brash and offensive, there is no sexual preference, race, creed or anything else that he leaves out - he makes fun of everything under the sun including himself.
He has been performing for somewhere around 30 years at this point and his audience is the most eclectic mix I have ever seen. From college students to grandmothers, everyone is packed in and having a 100% over the top fucking good time. And NO ONE is safe from the ribbing. If you stand out to him in any way you'll probably end up as an extra in one of his songs for the evening. During "half time" you can even do a meet and greet and request to get your friends made fun of. It's the ultimate in family entertainment.
There is too much to share that I absolutely love so I'm just going to throw out a few of my favorites.
He has been performing for somewhere around 30 years at this point and his audience is the most eclectic mix I have ever seen. From college students to grandmothers, everyone is packed in and having a 100% over the top fucking good time. And NO ONE is safe from the ribbing. If you stand out to him in any way you'll probably end up as an extra in one of his songs for the evening. During "half time" you can even do a meet and greet and request to get your friends made fun of. It's the ultimate in family entertainment.
There is too much to share that I absolutely love so I'm just going to throw out a few of my favorites.
A short summary is that the show went on and I packed an amount of alcohol into me that I never have before. I started (and probably ended) with at least two round of liquid cocaine and a mixture of drinks in between that I can't even begin to describe. By the time we left after the 2 and a half hour show I could barely even walk. And now I get to the important part of this story.
I'm f'd up, wobbling and almost in need of assistance to walk, talk or think.
Before heading into the outside, the cold harsh Erie Pennsylvania outside I make my last trip to the rest room. In fact we pretty much all do. No only are the restrooms in the Kings Rook club a great place to relieve one's self but they also have some awesome eye candy.
You see, the men's rooms in the Rook are wall papered with pictures of hot chicks out of Playboy's and Penthouses - wall to wall titties and ass. It's great. Focus on a great pair of tits and relieve yourself (urinate sir, don't get the wrong idea).
I stumble down the steps and pretend I'm doing a dance number that I just made up and wasn't actually trying to figure out how walk again and our group meets up to head to our ride.
We get to the car that will usher us back home and Vinnie decides that now is the proper time to relieve himself - you see the lines were too long inside and he really didn't have to go until that cold air hit him. Now he must go or there will be a flood inside the car on the ride home and nobody wanted that.
He went and went and went. Maybe he had been holding it in all day long for this one moment or maybe it's that it was probably 13 degrees outside but it felt like he took a day and a half and by the time he was finished there was a large stream of piss running in front of the car.
We were parked on a bit of a slope and in order for me to get to the car I had to navigate over the river of urine. This is the part where alcohol takes over my brain. All normal lines of logic are gone - I'm enthralled by the size of the stream that had been created and my brain absolutely cannot figure out what to do. So stop a foot in front of the stream and try to wrap my head around how I am possible going to take a large enough step without losing my balance and falling. After all, small steps are giving me issues right now and I've got that drunk boy swagger going on. I'm a fucking weeble - I'm just not falling down.
So this is when Trish says something that to this day I'm sure she regrets (not realizing that my mind is working in 100% literal translations). "Babe, just jump over it"
Jump?
grrouch: "brain, did she just say jump"
brain :"yes grrouch, she sure as shit did, you remember how to jump right?"
grrouch: "fuck yes I do, bend at the knees and propel with force"
brain (looking away): "rut roh shaggy"
Jump - it's a simple act that I found out we take for granted.
How many times can we perform this act without thinking about it and not mess up a simple jump landing 3-5 inches in front of where we started?
With more alcohol than blood in my system I attempted to do what I have done a million times over the course of my life.
I started with bending at my knees.
However, instead of a slight bend I had a full bend - putting my ass near the pavement as if I had been crouching on the floor.
I exerted as much energy as drunkenly possible by propelling myself up from this now-crouched position to throw myself over this epic river of piss that stood between me and my destination, shifting all of my excess weight as I went.
In the air, practically flying, I'm a fucking Gymnast, I'm Kerri Strug or whatever that skinny bitches name was.
Landing.
I stick it.
I'm amazing.
I am a God among men. I landed past my target, both feet touching the ground.
However, when I landed my legs were straight and my knees were locked.
When I hit, my knee buckles and my balances loses it's fight - Gravity takes over.
I twirl my arms in the air and start to fall backwards and end with a crash landing, my ass sitting square in the middle of the epic obstacle that I just tried to avoid.
To this day I still blame the whole instance on Trish telling me to jump. If she changes her word "Jump" to "step" the day is saved and we don't have to figure out how to take a 250 pound, ass soaked in piss, drunk guy home - but alas the (now) Trish, the editor, choose her words poorly and suffered because of it.
Looking back on the story now, I'm going to take credit for her future business of being an editor (not the writer portion) because of all the mental scaring that this one incident gave her. She vowed to never let one poorly chosen word ruin a perfectly good evening again.
And I end with one of Dr. Dirty's Poems.
Twinkle Twinkle
Steam of Piss
All My Beers
Have come to This
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