friday night was pretty sweet... jonny got back into town after a 14 day consulting binge and was raring to go out. we did the traditional highlands run, getting drunk at spentkins and playing darts with uconns finest dart apprentice hustler ever. my shoulders were heavy from carrying a 6'2 gorilla on my back, having to hit a majority of 20-15's and even starting the round with a double bulls. to no avail. record stands at 1-1. then the degaytur kids left and we rocked bores, dark horse, and my first ever appearance at blind willies.
apparently saturday starts at 7 am during tumultuous downpour of rain and thunder. after re curling until 1ish, it was decided that the day would be best spent at Regal 24 checking out the new flick Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy. The british dude from the office (tim), mos def, and the chick who was the sister in almost famous were featured. i guess some people say its different from the book... i feel like thats captain obvious talking there. i was thoroughly amused and green green probably had everything to do with it. check it out if you like stories that have horrible flow but look amazing whilst being told.
saturday night brought with it a true ixxperience. i decided to consume a meal around 2 and have a hot pocket with my 2nd jack and coke at around 10pm. so shoobie has no food in his system. combine that with some bubble hash sprinkles on a big phat biz and i was, for all intents and purposes, really really really fucked up. then i went to a little private party full of blurry and out of focus people. i mean they may have had details and facial features but i wouldnt remember. here is what i do recollect:
- i definitely did the moonwalker michael jackson dance outside on the balcony. this was due to the puddles of water that were just dying to be spun in. i also grabbed crotch and screamed hoooooo.
- i double fisted at a 20something party. jack and coke, jack and coke.
- my eyes were more slanted than fox news
- i yacked not once, but twice. outside my house. bushes. not in my own bed like my cd throwing away friend.
- i ordered $25 worth of wings for 5 guys and didnt eat more than 2 fries.
- i didnt drunk dial, not so much because i didnt want to, but because my fingers werent cooperating with my brain synapses at all.
- brain synapses stopped working at 5:01 on friday and resumed sometime around 4ish today, monday.
party was fun. but clearly i was in rare form. (can anyone else fill in some details?)
somehow the message was communicated to me before i passed out into bound-to-have-hangover-comatose-state that i had agreed to go to a braves game at 1 pm sunday, be ready by noonish. so at 11:30 when fucks got up and my door was wide open, i was awakened to a blistering headache. luckily for me i got to shower for an hour and then go to qdoba for a hot-salsaless burrito bound to satisfy my hunger that lasted 24 hours.
the braves game was sick. the weather yesterday in a-town was like a perfect 71 degrees. after the misbehavior of shoobie doo, i was thinking more about no beer at turner field and less about sun protection. thanks to my mothers gene pool i dont sunburn that easily, but 4 hours in the sun at turner field + twains corned beef sunday made me a little 'red' to put it lightly.
check out our seat hookup. behind home plate, row 6. i dont know what i was more burnt from, the sun or the damage my body absorbed saturday night
after family guy (sooo fucking funny. i am happy its back. check out this blasphemy) and fox cartoon marathon, i decided to go to bed. i was still hungover, thirsty, worn out, exhausted, never drinking again!, and in general pretty burnt out from the ridiculous amounts of sin and vice i put into my body. some of you kelloggs cereal enthusiasts might know exactly what i am talking about.
i felt like a crisp ix. sunburnt on one side, burnout on the other