City Stories

My last blog said I had a great entry for you. Well, I lied. It seemed good at the time...but it's actually kinda lame. It was just a typical night of drinking (that Len paid for), except it ended with me walking a loooong ways home cuz I had no money and cuz my friends ditched me a broad's house. And not being able to get in my house cuz my dad locked the wrong lock. Eventually he woke me up and let me in...but it was a loooong wait. And I left my hat there. Dammit.

Anyways, I've been sitting here tonight thinking about our best drunken retarded moments. Mine, and my friends. I thought I'd share a few of them with you. Some of you will already know some of these stories...for those that don't, enjoy.

EDIT - All of these are 100% true, and I have ample witnesses that can testify to this.

1. This one's not a real drunken retard story, people just still talk about it:

I owned a 98 degrees CD. Yes, not my finest moment, I know. Anyways, I had a bunch of people over one day in the winter, so we had a fire going. Danny threw that CD into the fireplace and said "Now it's 1500 degrees". Funny guy.



2. My friends (Jay, Lisa, Mikey, Sara, Ottawa Mike I think, others?) and I rented a condo in Whistler for the weekend. I lost the coinflip for beds, so I ended up with the pull out couch. I had already consumed a few beers, but I didn't think pulling a bed out of a couch would be rocket surgery. Turns out I was wrong.

I pulled, and pulled...nothing. I kicked, I dropped an elbow. Nothing. After 10 minutes, I figure out there's a lever on the side. Okay, cool. I flip the lever, pull with all my might, and it finally springs free....and I fly across the room, underneath the dining room table.


I decide that a beer will make me feel better about this. This f'n bed is blocking my way to the kitchen now though, so I get up, step onto the bed, and...the ceiling fan (set on helicopter, of course) just destroys me. Clocks me right in the forehead. I fall back, and end up right back under the dining room table. But now I'm bleeding and defeated.

I decide to wrap a towel around my head, turban style (don't ask me why), to stop the bleeding. Right after I do this...everyone comes home...and I have to explain what just happened.

This trip actually has about 10 different stories. The famous "I'm Mike, from Brazil" story I told at Mikey n Shannon's wedding, the hole in the wall, riding baggage carts in the hallways (causing much damage), throwing broken plastic chairs off the 3rd story patio onto the walkway below, Jay bagging me so bad I cried in the middle of the village, etc. I should actually just write the whole story of this weekend one day. Ask for it if you want it.



3. I was at the OT with Len one night, and some "festively plump" lady tried to chat him up. After 2 minutes or so of her talking, and him not saying anything, he responds with this gem:

"Do I look like I want to fuck the hamburglar? Go away!"

She was obviously offended, and threw her drink at him...and he tried to catch it in his mouth! I tried not to laugh, cuz it was pretty mean...but I couldn't. I laughed so hard I think I farted. I'm smooth like that.



4. Mikey and I borrowed my dad's car to go to the beer store, right after dad got his veterans plates. I showed them to Mikey, and he said "THAT'S what those are? I just thought there were a shitload of people from Vermont up here lately".



5. Len, Lisa and I were drinking here. Lisa put a case of beer into the fridge, and Len went in to grab one not long after. We could hear him fumbling around with the fridge for a bit. I asked him what the fuck he was doing, and he said :

"Don't put the beer so close to the fridge light. It won't stay cold". Yeah...okay.



6. Mikey n Shannon came out last wednesday, and met us at brooklyns. Shannon couldn't bring the kiddo inside (since it's a bar), so I went outside to meet them. They were parked across the street. In the middle of the street is a little barrier thing, no more than 6 inches in height. As I was jogging (yes, I can jog, assholes), I just BAILED in the middle of the road over this stupid thing. Shannon saw the whooole thing, as did the car that had stopped for me. As did half of fucking New West. At that point, I had consumed exactly 1 beer. Dammit.

These are "city stories". I'll save "camping stories" for next time.