9/30/2005
Last Night - Blind Drunk
I was going to take it easy last night.
My head hurt, I had just watched a horrendous episode of "The O.C." where they introduced a new character named "Chilly" (in case anyone was wondering, "The O.C." officially jumped shark last night), and I just wanted to lie in the dark and watch a movie. Unfortunately, Roomate Matt wanted to get blind drunk. And I am somewhat easily convinceable. So blind drunk we got.
The evening started off tamely enough, with Matt, myself, and My Lady Friend meeting up with my Roomate Andy, Buddy Matt, and the rest of their home mortgage fraternity, team Wells Fargo. And, yes, they were Happy Hour Heroes to say the least -- A bunch of 20-something sales men out drinking bottled beers? Let's just say the over/under for most Vince Vaughn references in an hour (15) was completely and totally shattered -- but we had a pretty decent time with them.
Unfortunately, it was about 2 fucking degrees outside last night, so after sitting out in a beer garden for an hour and a half, Buddy Matt, TLF, and I took off for our local Irish Pub (read: warm and cozy.)
Things there were great until Matt and I both got IV's of New Castle. The next thing we knew it was 1 am and some china-man wanted to fight us because we told him to stop throwing lit cigarettes at people (real mature, buddy.) Once that gentlemen was escorted out of the bar (by my favorite bartender in all of Saint Louis, Justin from McGurk's...seriously, if this guy doesn't get voted for best bartender in Saint Louis, I have officially lost my faith in democracy) things turned back to normal. We drank a few dozen more pints (or so it felt like) and chatted with the band from Dublin for a little while.
Right around closing time, I decided I needed a breath of fresh air (drinking 3 Jack and cokes, a bloody mary, a dozen-or-so pints of New Castle and eating a pack of Camel Lights will have that affect on me.) Once outside, I stood against the building pondering how I was going to keep from vomiting. As an aside, I feel obligated to tell you that Anheuser Busch was baking a fresh batch of beer last night. Whenever they cook up a new batch, my neighborhood reeks like yeast and onion rolls. It's really hard not to throw up when you're sober and smell it, let alone when your completely fucking cocked.
So, I'm outside and I clearly have the classic Al Fritz Vomit Face going, just hoping things will get better. But, right on schedule, an opportunistic crack head walked by and waved his 16 OZ of Camo under my nose, offering me a drink. Even under the best of circumstances, just the thought of Camo makes me want to vomit, so taking a whiff of it when I'm already housed and looking to spew...yeah...that kind of pushed me over the edge...and I puked all over the place.
So I had that going for me...which was nice.
After a lengthy and hearty puking session, I went back inside of the bar, drank a beer to help clean my mouth out, and got the fuck out of there. A successful evening of getting blind drunk, I decided.
Unfortunately, when I returned home, I found out that my Roomate Andy had gotten blind drunk as well. And in his case, I mean by "getting blind drunk" that he had been drunk when he got jumped in the bathroom of a bar by a group of alpha male douche bags. And basically, he couldn't see out of his right eye. So that's as close to being "blind drunk" as one can ever really hope to get.
Once we sorted out the things which had happened leading up to Andy being viciously assaulted (I'm pretty sure we concluded the leader of the group was none other than the former professional wrestler known as Crush) we cleaned up some of the blood in Andy's room and called it a night.
It was then that I realized I had drank so much booze my penis wouldn't work correctly. So I couldn't even have sex. Then, after overcoming an urge to eat a shoe which for some reason I had covered in Velveeta cheese and microwaved, I passed the eff out.
So I sit here now, listening to "Sister Golden Hair" by America, and just wishing I was dead. Oh well. At least I'm not Italian, too. That would really suck.
(Have a good weekend.)
[UPDATE - 11:15 am. I just threw up. A lot. Again. Sweet.]
My head hurt, I had just watched a horrendous episode of "The O.C." where they introduced a new character named "Chilly" (in case anyone was wondering, "The O.C." officially jumped shark last night), and I just wanted to lie in the dark and watch a movie. Unfortunately, Roomate Matt wanted to get blind drunk. And I am somewhat easily convinceable. So blind drunk we got.
The evening started off tamely enough, with Matt, myself, and My Lady Friend meeting up with my Roomate Andy, Buddy Matt, and the rest of their home mortgage fraternity, team Wells Fargo. And, yes, they were Happy Hour Heroes to say the least -- A bunch of 20-something sales men out drinking bottled beers? Let's just say the over/under for most Vince Vaughn references in an hour (15) was completely and totally shattered -- but we had a pretty decent time with them.
Unfortunately, it was about 2 fucking degrees outside last night, so after sitting out in a beer garden for an hour and a half, Buddy Matt, TLF, and I took off for our local Irish Pub (read: warm and cozy.)
Things there were great until Matt and I both got IV's of New Castle. The next thing we knew it was 1 am and some china-man wanted to fight us because we told him to stop throwing lit cigarettes at people (real mature, buddy.) Once that gentlemen was escorted out of the bar (by my favorite bartender in all of Saint Louis, Justin from McGurk's...seriously, if this guy doesn't get voted for best bartender in Saint Louis, I have officially lost my faith in democracy) things turned back to normal. We drank a few dozen more pints (or so it felt like) and chatted with the band from Dublin for a little while.
Right around closing time, I decided I needed a breath of fresh air (drinking 3 Jack and cokes, a bloody mary, a dozen-or-so pints of New Castle and eating a pack of Camel Lights will have that affect on me.) Once outside, I stood against the building pondering how I was going to keep from vomiting. As an aside, I feel obligated to tell you that Anheuser Busch was baking a fresh batch of beer last night. Whenever they cook up a new batch, my neighborhood reeks like yeast and onion rolls. It's really hard not to throw up when you're sober and smell it, let alone when your completely fucking cocked.
So, I'm outside and I clearly have the classic Al Fritz Vomit Face going, just hoping things will get better. But, right on schedule, an opportunistic crack head walked by and waved his 16 OZ of Camo under my nose, offering me a drink. Even under the best of circumstances, just the thought of Camo makes me want to vomit, so taking a whiff of it when I'm already housed and looking to spew...yeah...that kind of pushed me over the edge...and I puked all over the place.
So I had that going for me...which was nice.
After a lengthy and hearty puking session, I went back inside of the bar, drank a beer to help clean my mouth out, and got the fuck out of there. A successful evening of getting blind drunk, I decided.
Unfortunately, when I returned home, I found out that my Roomate Andy had gotten blind drunk as well. And in his case, I mean by "getting blind drunk" that he had been drunk when he got jumped in the bathroom of a bar by a group of alpha male douche bags. And basically, he couldn't see out of his right eye. So that's as close to being "blind drunk" as one can ever really hope to get.
Once we sorted out the things which had happened leading up to Andy being viciously assaulted (I'm pretty sure we concluded the leader of the group was none other than the former professional wrestler known as Crush) we cleaned up some of the blood in Andy's room and called it a night.
It was then that I realized I had drank so much booze my penis wouldn't work correctly. So I couldn't even have sex. Then, after overcoming an urge to eat a shoe which for some reason I had covered in Velveeta cheese and microwaved, I passed the eff out.
So I sit here now, listening to "Sister Golden Hair" by America, and just wishing I was dead. Oh well. At least I'm not Italian, too. That would really suck.
(Have a good weekend.)
[UPDATE - 11:15 am. I just threw up. A lot. Again. Sweet.]
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oh I remember The O.C. TV show, it was awesome, i liked it a lot and there was always, alcohol, girls and bad decisions haha my friend who is a used to watch it too and price per head agent, he watched it only for that
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