Woo! Now THAT was a Friday night. I s'pose ya'll are wondering what the hell happened. Well, frankly, I'm not really sure myself. The hot neighbor just clued me in to a couple of things that I was doing that I don't remember. Sweet!
Let's recap. The night began with a full blown rock concert, right here in front of my computer. I broke out my girlfriend ... um, ok, it's a guitar, but it is long and slender and has curves - same diff ... and had a full out jam session. The computer and I covered a lot of ground - Green Day, Elton John, Fuel, Puddle Of Mudd, friggin' Billy Idol ... did I say Billy Idol? Yes! I did! Learned how to play Sweet Sixteen last night. It's ridiculously easy. That's why Billy Idol rules the world. The entire world, people. Dig it.
Needless to say, in the midst of all this average guitar playing and poor sing-alonging (yup, just made that word up), there were beverages involved. Well, one beverage ... the fine Cap'n Morgan and his buddy diet coke. This begs the question - is it bad to drink alone if it's fun?
A quick aside ... one of the better things about having cats is there's always some weird noise happening somewhere in the house. There's nothing I like better than living on the edge, at all times. Either a raving psychopath is breaking into my house, or one of the furballs knocked something minor over. Figuring out which one is half the fun! Yahoo!
Where was I? Oh, yes, boozin'. I've got boozin' down to an exact science, people. I might even have to turn this into an entire study at the hospital. I can see it now ... my face in the papers for breaking new ground in the field of waffledness.
Sorry. The hot neighbor gave me a Migrane Excedrin for my headache, and I'm pretty sure I can see the future right now. Talk about hiiiiigh.
So, the science. First, the pre-game. Always pop a couple of pain killers before you start to imbibe. Yeah, it's bad for your stomach and all that, but the stomach is The Man. The stomach rules. Right now, the stomach is having a hamburger for breakfast, that's how friggin' tough the stomach is. High five, stomach!
Another aside .... don't take a Migrane Excedrin and try to type a blog. What the hell am I talking about?
Oh. So, step 2 in the ritual. Take your booze (my personal choice is Cap'n Morgan), your mixer (diet coke), and cut it with some water. Water, people, water. You bozos aren't drinking water, are ya? Ha! Two parts H, one part O, people. Know it. Learn it. Live it. That's right - I just quoted Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
Shoot. I forgot step -1 ... drink tons of water BEFORE boozing. You know, you should probably just tune me out for a couple of sentences until I start making sense again.
Ok, I've lost interest in that, so let's get on with the night. Headed to the square, stopped in to see my pal Lincoln at Claddaugh. Lincoln isn't really my pal, but we go to the same gym and nod hello to each other. In my world, with my lame-ass friends, that counts as pals. From there, I popped into a couple of places, then made my customary stop at Portside.
Highlight of the night ... there is this beeeeeeautiful young lass named Melissa that I've been admiring for years. Literally. We've been going to the same gym for a long time. Did I mention that she is beeeeeeautiful? Oh, I did already. Problem has always been that she's married.
Now, I don't wish divorce on anyone, but the lovely Miss Melissa is currently going through one. I often pride myself on not being a typical guy, but I could help but notice the neon lights flashing in my head when I was given this information. Soon to be single! Ding! 'Course, being the appropriate dumbass drunk that I am, I immediately informed her that when it's final, I'm interested. Let me tell you, peeps, I am smooth as gravel. Luckily, I caught her as she swooned.
After the joint closed, I got invited back to the cool people party at some cool person's house. I don't remember much from that situation ... there were some folks from the gym there, a dog, and possibly a couch. I don't think I broke anything, and I'm pretty sure I didn't pee in any closets. I figure I'm ahead of the game if I've got those two things covered. That's pretty much my mantra when I walk into a party. Inside my li'l head, two recurring thoughts ... don't break nuttin', pee in the appropriate receptacle. Is it any wonder I live alone?
From there, things get even fuzzier. According to the hot neighbor, when I got home I was shouting something outside in the street (probably something brilliant along the lines of "I can't stand it when people use quote marks in inappropriate ways"), tossing my cell phone around, and wandering around the back alley looking for stray cats. Heh. All of ya'll that are doing this "live vicariously through Jack" thing just got a lot happier that you aren't me, didn'tcha?
Oops, almost forgot the obligatory silly text messages from the night of yippee. Just a sampling for your perusal of the notes I sent to some lucky recipients last night:
I'm sompletely cober
Chaka Khan let me rock you ... I can't remember the rest of the lyrics
Looneys ... the bar of 5s
Help me ... I have a craving for a fried twinkee!
I'm pretty sure that's it. Time to go curl up with my best friend ... Gatorade.
Let's recap. The night began with a full blown rock concert, right here in front of my computer. I broke out my girlfriend ... um, ok, it's a guitar, but it is long and slender and has curves - same diff ... and had a full out jam session. The computer and I covered a lot of ground - Green Day, Elton John, Fuel, Puddle Of Mudd, friggin' Billy Idol ... did I say Billy Idol? Yes! I did! Learned how to play Sweet Sixteen last night. It's ridiculously easy. That's why Billy Idol rules the world. The entire world, people. Dig it.
Needless to say, in the midst of all this average guitar playing and poor sing-alonging (yup, just made that word up), there were beverages involved. Well, one beverage ... the fine Cap'n Morgan and his buddy diet coke. This begs the question - is it bad to drink alone if it's fun?
A quick aside ... one of the better things about having cats is there's always some weird noise happening somewhere in the house. There's nothing I like better than living on the edge, at all times. Either a raving psychopath is breaking into my house, or one of the furballs knocked something minor over. Figuring out which one is half the fun! Yahoo!
Where was I? Oh, yes, boozin'. I've got boozin' down to an exact science, people. I might even have to turn this into an entire study at the hospital. I can see it now ... my face in the papers for breaking new ground in the field of waffledness.
Sorry. The hot neighbor gave me a Migrane Excedrin for my headache, and I'm pretty sure I can see the future right now. Talk about hiiiiigh.
So, the science. First, the pre-game. Always pop a couple of pain killers before you start to imbibe. Yeah, it's bad for your stomach and all that, but the stomach is The Man. The stomach rules. Right now, the stomach is having a hamburger for breakfast, that's how friggin' tough the stomach is. High five, stomach!
Another aside .... don't take a Migrane Excedrin and try to type a blog. What the hell am I talking about?
Oh. So, step 2 in the ritual. Take your booze (my personal choice is Cap'n Morgan), your mixer (diet coke), and cut it with some water. Water, people, water. You bozos aren't drinking water, are ya? Ha! Two parts H, one part O, people. Know it. Learn it. Live it. That's right - I just quoted Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
Shoot. I forgot step -1 ... drink tons of water BEFORE boozing. You know, you should probably just tune me out for a couple of sentences until I start making sense again.
Ok, I've lost interest in that, so let's get on with the night. Headed to the square, stopped in to see my pal Lincoln at Claddaugh. Lincoln isn't really my pal, but we go to the same gym and nod hello to each other. In my world, with my lame-ass friends, that counts as pals. From there, I popped into a couple of places, then made my customary stop at Portside.
Highlight of the night ... there is this beeeeeeautiful young lass named Melissa that I've been admiring for years. Literally. We've been going to the same gym for a long time. Did I mention that she is beeeeeeautiful? Oh, I did already. Problem has always been that she's married.
Now, I don't wish divorce on anyone, but the lovely Miss Melissa is currently going through one. I often pride myself on not being a typical guy, but I could help but notice the neon lights flashing in my head when I was given this information. Soon to be single! Ding! 'Course, being the appropriate dumbass drunk that I am, I immediately informed her that when it's final, I'm interested. Let me tell you, peeps, I am smooth as gravel. Luckily, I caught her as she swooned.
After the joint closed, I got invited back to the cool people party at some cool person's house. I don't remember much from that situation ... there were some folks from the gym there, a dog, and possibly a couch. I don't think I broke anything, and I'm pretty sure I didn't pee in any closets. I figure I'm ahead of the game if I've got those two things covered. That's pretty much my mantra when I walk into a party. Inside my li'l head, two recurring thoughts ... don't break nuttin', pee in the appropriate receptacle. Is it any wonder I live alone?
From there, things get even fuzzier. According to the hot neighbor, when I got home I was shouting something outside in the street (probably something brilliant along the lines of "I can't stand it when people use quote marks in inappropriate ways"), tossing my cell phone around, and wandering around the back alley looking for stray cats. Heh. All of ya'll that are doing this "live vicariously through Jack" thing just got a lot happier that you aren't me, didn'tcha?
Oops, almost forgot the obligatory silly text messages from the night of yippee. Just a sampling for your perusal of the notes I sent to some lucky recipients last night:
I'm sompletely cober
Chaka Khan let me rock you ... I can't remember the rest of the lyrics
Looneys ... the bar of 5s
Help me ... I have a craving for a fried twinkee!
I'm pretty sure that's it. Time to go curl up with my best friend ... Gatorade.
posted by AxnJxn at 10:17 AM
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