Wednesday, May 20, 2009 -- It is the Wednesday before Memorial Day Weekend and I have no beach plans. So, I say fuck beaches. I call O-Dog* and ask him if he wants to get drunk and make bad decisions or sit around and group masturbate with his gay friends and the large women that he hangs out with. I used to think O-Dog was cool until he grew out his beard and started spending his time on craigslist meeting strange people and then giving them ass-to-mouth (ATM) until they let him move in with them.
I am not just throwing around terms here, well sort of. His current roommate actually is gay and I don’t know if the woman he lives with is fat or not. For our purposes she is huge. Baleen blow-hole huge. My real reason for going to Washington D.C. is to make sure he hasn’t gone completely over the edge. I can tell by his desperate phone calls that he is in need of some real drunken fun. Besides, I like D.C. a lot. Every time I have been there, I have thrown up, fallen in my own throw up, gotten laid, broken ankles falling in my own throw up, and escaped out of foreign embassies that I have publicly thrown up in. Never gotten laid in my own throw up yet. My goal for the weekend.
O-Dog then informs me that his roommates are out of town. Done. I am driving to D.C. on Friday night.
Friday, 4:30PM -- I bail from work early and pick up Tall Boy* outside NYC. We head down I-84 West from New England and decide to stop in at my parents’ house outside of Philadelphia for dinner. Dinner turns into heavy doses of unadulterated scotch chugging. We are not making it to Washington D.C. tonight. We stay in Philadelphia.
Saturday, 10:00AM -- O-Dog informs me that he has to pick up some shitty furniture in Villanova for his sweatbox apartment. Sweet… This means I am no longer driving. We get in his crunchy little VW station wagon and putter South to the nation’s capital.
Depart - Philadelphia, PA 12:30 PM
Arrive - Washington, D.C. 3:30 PM
We get into D.C. -- after a brutal drive with no road sodas of any kind. What is the first thing we do? Go to a bar naturally. We wander around O-Dog’s neighborhood without much success, so we decide on Lucky Bar. Tried-and-true, this is going to get ugly. All three of us decide to start off with double bourbon and cokes while casually watching the Yankees vs. Phillies game. I don’t know why Yankees fans penetrate every drinking establishment in America, but of course, there is a middle-aged drunk ass clown salivating with every snapshot of Derek Jeter. He keeps yelling, “Derek! Yeah Derek!” I am a Phillies fan and this fucking guy is getting annoying.
5:30PM -- I just keep drinking and try to ignore drunk guy. Unfortunately, I can’t move because I have front row seats to the drunk show and this bartender keeps ‘em coming. Time passes. Yankees win. Mr. Yeah Derek is going nuts. Fuck this shit, I need a cigarette anyway. I walk to the outdoor seating and sure enough the asshole follows me out and asks for a light. Being mildly sober and still non-confrontational I give him one. He makes small talk that I don’t want to deal with and tells me his life story. This guy is in every bar in America. You know the one. I drink fast to the point of blissful deafness.
7:00PM -- I am now drunk-as-shit. The Meghangolian* shows up with roommate. We’ll call her Karla*. I have no recollection of anything that happens at this bar. I have a $173 bar bill. Fuck. This is going to get worse before it gets better.
7:45PM -- I remember taking a cool shower in the heat of the swampassy D.C. night. I remember breakdancing in O-Dog’s apartment. I remember changing my shirt 15 minutes later because I had already sweat through the first one. This was the height of my stupor. It’s always in the middle of the night for me.
9:00PM -- We go to some shitty Mediterranean restaurant where I got soupy noodles instead of rich creamy pasta. Karla, virgin to my brash and childish antics is thoroughly unimpressed not to mention creeped out. I refrain from trying to make out with her. The Grinch*, a buddy from my summer abroad in Australia met us at the restaurant. Grinch is one of the funniest bastards I have ever known. He is one of the few people who have seen me sober less than 2% of the total time he’s known me and still hangs out with me.
When he shows up I stand up in my patio chair and jump over the railing for a bromantic embrace. The last time I saw him was almost exactly a year ago during a party in D.C. We decide to walk around through the entrance to get back to the table. The group in back of us is scolding me with their eyes and laughing. I take this personally and start muttering, “Fuck you” under my breath. I tell everyone I will fight them if they laught at me again. In retrospect, I am pretty sure they were just having a good time, but me being drunk, I figure they are making fun of me and laughing at my expense. At this point of the night, everything is about me.
11:00PM -- We leave this Moroccan terrorist camp and head to Adam’s Morgan. At this point, Tallboy is straining even to stay awake at dinner. He is just as wrecked as I am. I walk slower than everyone and keep losing the pack. Luckily, I intermittently see tallboy rip down a towering tree limb or shake the top of a stop sign. This is literally how I got to the bar. Following Tall Boy’s path of fiery destruction. This is the point where the night could get dangerous. Karla heads for the hills, well Maryland technically but I’m sure it has hills.
11:20PM -- We decide on a place called Reef Bar. It has a bunch of fish tanks and some shitty underwater scenes on the wall. There are plenty of chicks and the music is good, so fuck it. I love this bar! I start ordering shot after shot. I look over and sure enough I see a good college buddy who we’ll name Dr. Greenethumb*. He is with a bunch of chicks and well on his way to a fantastic ending. This is great. I am hammered, but not so much that I can’t talk and don’t have to puke yet. O-Dog is laying it on thick with a girl who went to school with us. We’ll name her Cumteeth (don’t even try to figure it out).
I walk over to a bunch of chicks wearing slutty outfits. I think they are all so hot. They are from Pittsburgh. Their slutty outfits are for a bachelorette party. At this I scream, “Tequila Shots!” They say no. I say, “Redheaded Sluts!” They relent. I do shots with bridezilla’s sister and some other girl. She asks me all kinds of questions that I probably answered all wrong. I remember nothing but wanting to have sex with her mouth. Then the Bartender comes over and says, “Someone bought you a drink. Here.” She instantly walks away. I am pissed. Fuck her, she’s from Pittsburgh. Upon first sip I notice that it is an appletini. I was too drunk to realize by the green tint and feminine glass. I say, “What the fuck is this shit.” He replies, “Like I said someone bought you a drink… on your own tab.” Well I’ll be a monkey’s ass. I yell back, “I’m gonna drink this whole fucking thing! Because I paid for it. Fuck it, buy them one too and make them drink it. We’ll see who’s laughing now!” I am really drunk now.
Grinch has a pretty girl meet up with him at the bar. I introduce myself and ask her all the regular questions. Only at this point I am blackout once again and cannot form simple memories. I am aware of this fact, but I can't do anything about it. I keep asking her where she's from and where she went to school. It turns out she is from my hometown in FL. She went to a slutty little catholic school that I used to poach chicks from for proms and such. Grinch doesn't know he's in for a treat. A slutty little catholic treat. I then ask her if she knows a girl I grew up with and took to Junior Homecoming. She says yes, very well. I then explain how whorish and slutty she was and how I would love to have dirty relations with her again. She then says... "Oh I doubt that." This is a test of my fucking manhood. "Why the fuck not?" I ask. Does she have a disease, fuck, do I have a disease now... no that was a long time ago. Wait. Is this bitch saying she wouldn't hook up with me again? She then explains that the girl is married. Annoying, but not a shocker... I think I can still hit it. She then drives the nail completely in and tells me that she is pregnant and expecting her first baby. I am completely confused. Then depressed. I go to the bar and ask for another appletini.
Several Hours Later -- We decide to leave the bar. Tallboy and I have ripped off tree-limbs and have begun beating each other with them in the street. We are all hungry and stop at a pizza place. As Tallboy searches for some cash in his pockets he stumbles upon some prescription treats. He says, “Hey Smasher… want a xanax?” Why not. Only, I have nothing to wash it down with. The last thing I remember from the night is swallowing a xany bar with a slice of pepperoni pizza.
To Be Continued...
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment