a refreshing break from reality.
NOTE: if you already read this, you could read it again. i made some changes after talking to The Jeffrey. he was less wasted and recalls more of the events.
ah yes, memories of past. the good 'ol days. nights of belligerence. i'll rekindle some of these fond memories on occasion. i save them for moments like these. i've had enough bitching and moaning.
ok kids, it's time for a drunken story.
it's almost superbowl sunday. the climax of the year for many men. this story recalls last year's glorious football day. me and The Jeffrey had a plan. we decided that this particular superbowl, we were going to start drinking as soon as we woke up.
i was the first to wake up. i think it was bout noon, maybe one. something like that. i grabbed 2 beers out of the fridge and proceeded to pound on his door. he woke up and answered the door groggy. i smiled at him and handed him a beer. this was the beginning.
we drank our beers and wondered what we should do. we debated various drinking games. nothing really tickled our fancy. they weren't special. superbowl sunday was an occasion where awesome things must happen. this is when God told us that we should create a new drinking game. i can assure you that in the past 5 years no one has ever done it.
the game:
it involves a sega genesis, two controllers, and if my memory is correct, the game is a 1995 version of sports jeopardy. how suiting for this superb day of athletic competition. i know you're wondering, how did you incorporate alcohol into this old ass game? well i'll tell you. my memory is hazy but i think it was: if you did not answer a question you drank 2 seconds, if you answered a question wrong you drank 5 seconds and if one of us answered correctly, the other person had to drink 10 seconds. i think.
THE GAME IS ANCIENT. the questions were like sports history. like who was the first fucker to ever hit a home run. shit kind of like that. needless to say, when we got one right we went ballistic. we erupted. there was one catch. in order to answer a question correctly, you had to spell it correctly. number one, i suck at spelling. number two, some last names are ridiculous. three, the pressure was on, time limit like real jeopardy. lastly, we'd be drunk soon, so spelling would become even more difficult.
it was rough. i think we played two games. each game lasts several hours. double jeopardy, final jeopardy, the works. i'm sorry i suck at recalling the events. you'll understand in a short while.
we killed plenty of beers as you might imagine. we did this sans breakfast or lunch. it was a liquid brunch. i will vouch for anyone who says drinking on an empty stomach is rough. because it is. well, i think it was about 5 when we finished our drinking game. we were sloshed.
Jeff is a better speller, he's smarter, and knows a bit more about sports of past than me. i was more intoxicated. i also bonged like 3 beers at the end of the game cuz i got a bit behind. he beat the computer in our last game. so we went nuts and i had to bong beers to celebrate.
well, we went to a superbowl party. apparently it was the new TKE house. their old house was shut down by the school because of "inhumane hazing". plus the first time i went there, carpet was pulled up in one of the rooms. i asked why, and they said cuz someone last night shat on it. well at the house i passed out. i was comatose. i was out before the pregame. my friend brad found me passed out on the sink in the upstairs bathroom. he dragged me to a near by couch for me to lay.
he set my head over the edge of the couch aimed at a trash can. this was because i was puking in my "sleep". what a nice guy. he ensured i would not go out the way Hendrix did. he grabbed The Jeffrey, and called a cab.
at this point in my life, i was a blimp. i was pushing 190lbs. hefty, tubby, husky, fat, chunky, lard ass, all of these names applied. my friends were pissed because they tried getting other people in the house to help bring me to the taxi when it came to pick us up. no one would help. the two of these guys carried me down some stairs (that turned twice) and dropped me on my head like 3 times. every time i'd hit a step with my head i'd cry out in agony.
brad was livid because no one would help. everyone in the house was a tool. so he decided that he would help himself to some of their things. he ganked a magazine, a computer game, and a pair of electric hair clippers (attachments and everything).
i think we also went to another party. i don't know. i recall someone saying we went to 2 parties that night but i could be making that up. chances are good i am. well, they get me outside once the cab arrives. they set me down on a sheet of ice. i was moaning and in discomfort. my body was shaking. they were like... what's wrong with him. when they picked me up i was ice cold. they realized that when they carried me slash dragged me outside my shirt had lifted and exposed my naked back. so my bare back was resting on a sheet of ice for longer than anyone should have to endure.
my friends lifted me up and started to put me in the taxi. the driver said "what the hell is this?" brad yelled "twenty dollar tip buddy!"
the doors of our apartment building are locked. so they set me down on more ice. they dragged me up the stairs and i think once i was in the place, they went downstairs for more superbowl action. i recall the morning after. i woke up and i was in the middle of the hallway. not in my room, not on a couch, nothing. i woke up faced down on the carpet. i get up and i talk to my friends. i ask them, "hey guys... do you know where my pants are?" they took a picture of me faced down in my cowboy shirt and boxers. apparently they came off during the journey up the stairs.
i also woke up with one less shoe than i started out with that night. i did not want to go back to the house and get my missing shoe. i was "that guy". so i saved my lone shoe and it provides me a great memory.
the story doesn't end here. a few weeks later i finally went to another party. it was at a friend's apartment. i was hesitant to go because i made a vow not to drink after superbowl sunday. i finally gave in and decided, what could it hurt. i might have fun. we were playing flippy cup outside and it was all good. after a few rounds some guys came and joined us. i talked to one of the guys and he seemed pretty cool. the guy was like, "dude, i know you from somewhere". i had no idea who he was. he asks his friends, "doesn't this guy look familiar?" they all agreed. i thought, wtf. i don't know these f-ers and it is kind of wierd. the guy i stood next to finally remembered where he met me. he told his friends "THIS IS THE GUY FROM THE SUPERBOWL PARTY!"
the end.
here is a special poem about my relationship with beer.
B elligerence
E xcessive
E l awesome-o
R etarded
"you were fucking wasted." - The Jeffrey
ah yes, memories of past. the good 'ol days. nights of belligerence. i'll rekindle some of these fond memories on occasion. i save them for moments like these. i've had enough bitching and moaning.
ok kids, it's time for a drunken story.
it's almost superbowl sunday. the climax of the year for many men. this story recalls last year's glorious football day. me and The Jeffrey had a plan. we decided that this particular superbowl, we were going to start drinking as soon as we woke up.
i was the first to wake up. i think it was bout noon, maybe one. something like that. i grabbed 2 beers out of the fridge and proceeded to pound on his door. he woke up and answered the door groggy. i smiled at him and handed him a beer. this was the beginning.
we drank our beers and wondered what we should do. we debated various drinking games. nothing really tickled our fancy. they weren't special. superbowl sunday was an occasion where awesome things must happen. this is when God told us that we should create a new drinking game. i can assure you that in the past 5 years no one has ever done it.
the game:
it involves a sega genesis, two controllers, and if my memory is correct, the game is a 1995 version of sports jeopardy. how suiting for this superb day of athletic competition. i know you're wondering, how did you incorporate alcohol into this old ass game? well i'll tell you. my memory is hazy but i think it was: if you did not answer a question you drank 2 seconds, if you answered a question wrong you drank 5 seconds and if one of us answered correctly, the other person had to drink 10 seconds. i think.
THE GAME IS ANCIENT. the questions were like sports history. like who was the first fucker to ever hit a home run. shit kind of like that. needless to say, when we got one right we went ballistic. we erupted. there was one catch. in order to answer a question correctly, you had to spell it correctly. number one, i suck at spelling. number two, some last names are ridiculous. three, the pressure was on, time limit like real jeopardy. lastly, we'd be drunk soon, so spelling would become even more difficult.
it was rough. i think we played two games. each game lasts several hours. double jeopardy, final jeopardy, the works. i'm sorry i suck at recalling the events. you'll understand in a short while.
we killed plenty of beers as you might imagine. we did this sans breakfast or lunch. it was a liquid brunch. i will vouch for anyone who says drinking on an empty stomach is rough. because it is. well, i think it was about 5 when we finished our drinking game. we were sloshed.
Jeff is a better speller, he's smarter, and knows a bit more about sports of past than me. i was more intoxicated. i also bonged like 3 beers at the end of the game cuz i got a bit behind. he beat the computer in our last game. so we went nuts and i had to bong beers to celebrate.
well, we went to a superbowl party. apparently it was the new TKE house. their old house was shut down by the school because of "inhumane hazing". plus the first time i went there, carpet was pulled up in one of the rooms. i asked why, and they said cuz someone last night shat on it. well at the house i passed out. i was comatose. i was out before the pregame. my friend brad found me passed out on the sink in the upstairs bathroom. he dragged me to a near by couch for me to lay.
he set my head over the edge of the couch aimed at a trash can. this was because i was puking in my "sleep". what a nice guy. he ensured i would not go out the way Hendrix did. he grabbed The Jeffrey, and called a cab.
at this point in my life, i was a blimp. i was pushing 190lbs. hefty, tubby, husky, fat, chunky, lard ass, all of these names applied. my friends were pissed because they tried getting other people in the house to help bring me to the taxi when it came to pick us up. no one would help. the two of these guys carried me down some stairs (that turned twice) and dropped me on my head like 3 times. every time i'd hit a step with my head i'd cry out in agony.
brad was livid because no one would help. everyone in the house was a tool. so he decided that he would help himself to some of their things. he ganked a magazine, a computer game, and a pair of electric hair clippers (attachments and everything).
i think we also went to another party. i don't know. i recall someone saying we went to 2 parties that night but i could be making that up. chances are good i am. well, they get me outside once the cab arrives. they set me down on a sheet of ice. i was moaning and in discomfort. my body was shaking. they were like... what's wrong with him. when they picked me up i was ice cold. they realized that when they carried me slash dragged me outside my shirt had lifted and exposed my naked back. so my bare back was resting on a sheet of ice for longer than anyone should have to endure.
my friends lifted me up and started to put me in the taxi. the driver said "what the hell is this?" brad yelled "twenty dollar tip buddy!"
the doors of our apartment building are locked. so they set me down on more ice. they dragged me up the stairs and i think once i was in the place, they went downstairs for more superbowl action. i recall the morning after. i woke up and i was in the middle of the hallway. not in my room, not on a couch, nothing. i woke up faced down on the carpet. i get up and i talk to my friends. i ask them, "hey guys... do you know where my pants are?" they took a picture of me faced down in my cowboy shirt and boxers. apparently they came off during the journey up the stairs.
i also woke up with one less shoe than i started out with that night. i did not want to go back to the house and get my missing shoe. i was "that guy". so i saved my lone shoe and it provides me a great memory.
the story doesn't end here. a few weeks later i finally went to another party. it was at a friend's apartment. i was hesitant to go because i made a vow not to drink after superbowl sunday. i finally gave in and decided, what could it hurt. i might have fun. we were playing flippy cup outside and it was all good. after a few rounds some guys came and joined us. i talked to one of the guys and he seemed pretty cool. the guy was like, "dude, i know you from somewhere". i had no idea who he was. he asks his friends, "doesn't this guy look familiar?" they all agreed. i thought, wtf. i don't know these f-ers and it is kind of wierd. the guy i stood next to finally remembered where he met me. he told his friends "THIS IS THE GUY FROM THE SUPERBOWL PARTY!"
the end.
here is a special poem about my relationship with beer.
B elligerence
E xcessive
E l awesome-o
R etarded
"you were fucking wasted." - The Jeffrey
posted by icon at 11:19 AM
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