Okay...so I am feeling a bit sheepish posting here. I'm like that guy who played Urkel. I was only popular when I could hike my pants up real high and pull off multi-colored suspenders. But now that I'm older and I lost my puberty voice I have reclused myself to only doing terrible movies (Watch: Crococaurus Vs. Mega Shark).
So I apologize to my many readers out there. I have become involved in my extreme effort to become a deadbeat for the summer. In fact, I think I succeeded this weekend when I spent all weekend at the beach, eating bar-be-que and drinking heavily. But I have come to you bearing a gift about my life and some helpful advice to those of you who are feeling the need to drink heavily this summer and how to avoid some serious mistakes.
Now this story does involve some of my friends whose names I will not reveal here due to the secretive nature of this blog and the fact that I may or may not be speaking to one of the parties involved. In fact I think we arn't even friends on Facebook anymore. Well I know that certainly means we are officially not friends.
When I was younger and stupider...AKA last summer...I had made a decision to stop drinking, trust me when I say...WORST DECISION EVER, because of a certain relationship I was in. This meant I had gone quite a few months without any liquor in my system. I had completely detoxed myself from my previous lifestyle of heavy partying and binge drinking. Okay maybe I'm being a bit dramatic, more like I stopped going out every other month for a friends birthday. But that didn't sound quite as fucking awesome did it?
Anywho, this fateful summer I was showing my horse at Spruce Meadows. Now it may look like a place of good clean family fun, but I kid you not Spruce Meadows is an enforcer of debauchery for the riders. In our gift basket things they willingly bestowed upon us a card that would get you into the skeeziest bar in the city for FREE. It was pretty much like giving an ADHD Kid 8000 pounds of sugar then setting him loose in an antique shop. Only bad things could come of it.
Anyways, my friend and I kept putting off using the free coupon. I mean we could have just not used it but realistically you can't just pass up free liquor. Now I had one problem. My boyfriend at the time was not a fan of drinking nor was he a fan of me drinking. I, however, in this one instance of physcotic decision making, decided that both my friend and I would head out to the bar. Now, not to be rude or anything I invited him along, and offered to him that he should bring a friend.
This is where things get messy.
As per usual everyone had serious problems getting their shit together so we didn't end up leaving till late. Once we reached the bar, after a series of trains and walks, the line was insane. I'm not talking you have to wait five minutes kind of line, I'm talking like you ain't getting in tonight kind of line. But we soldiered on.
3 hours, 8 frozen toes and 4 huge hot dogs later we finally reached the front door. By this time we had gathered a new posse. One, a huge douche, you know the type, dressed in a suit jacket to hit up a club? Spiked hair and possibly just laid down some cash to get freshly frosted tips. Yeah, that kind of huge douche. The other, a more interesting man who wouldn't reveal to us where he lived or for that matter anything about him. I'm pretty sure within the hour he told his lived in 2 different cities.
Ahh the people you meet in lines at clubs. You know the kind.
After pestering the bouncer enough, we at last entered the club at 1. We instantly realized we needed to be far drunker to even rationalize the thick of smell of desperation in the air. Without wasting time on coat check or even speaking to each other we got up to the closet bar and ordered about 20 drinks.
My Ex was less than impressed at me by this point. My friend and I started pounding shots of about every kind of alcohol. I'm not even kidding. It was perhaps in this moment that I may have told myself to slow down, but the frat boy in me was convinced that we were gonna make it out alive. Did I mention that most clubs close at 2? Yeaaaaahh.
Even after all those shots my friend and I were sure we hadn't had enough to drink. It was at this point in the night that things started to take a turn for the worst. We started stealing drinks. I should be ashamed, I should hang my head in complete embarrassment. But the longest part of the night hadn't even started and my friend and I were already complete messes. It wasn't until the club closed that the true moral of this story reveals itself.
As we headed out of the club, my friend and I started to truly feel the effects of the liters of alcohol we had just consumed. We were stumbling around like grandma at Christmas after to much wine and the world became like a game to us. As we made our way back to public transit, distractions were abound. I remember the two of us sitting cross-legged under sprinklers and dancing around in the water. My Ex's friend attempted to jump a median (keep in mind he had also tried to keep up with us) and let's just say his ass paid for it.
My Ex, being the only sober one, tried to wrangle us into heading towards the station. We were like a group of 2 year-olds with severe ADHD. When he finally did get us into the station, my friend and I fumbled for change for tickets exclaiming "I CAN'T READ THIS SCREEN!!! IT'S BROOOOKEEEENNN!!!!!!" Then breaking into hysterics. Meanwhile, my ex's friend was already boarding the bus without another thought for the rest of us. It took a while but we finally managed to purchase tickets and get safely onto the train.
Now public transit at 2:30 in the morning is a scary and interesting place, kind of like an insane asylum at night. As we rode in silence, each contemplating the previous events, our night took it's final turn. As we neared our final stop, I looked directly into my ex's eyes and in a dead serious tone I said "I don't feel so good". The look of horror on his face told me one thing, our relationship would never recover from this night. He simply said "Throw up in my sweater". I shook my head like a pouty 5 year old and prepared to heave my dinner all over the train. In a grace of God we reached the station and my ex quite literally picked me up and ran me to the nearest garbage where I proceeded to vomit. My friend and his friend both left, while he held my hair back and I apologized profusely between dry heaves. It turns out his friend went and got in the car with my dad and my friend was just kind of wandering around the station.
After I had finished heaving my guts(at least 15 minutes), he asked if I was okay to move. I nodded, moved two steps and then cried "NO!!!! I can't do it!!!!" and started crying. Here he took matters into his own hands and picked me up dramatic style (imagine that final scene in season 3 OC Ryan carrying Marissa) and carried me up the stairs where I continued to vomit into another garbage. Finally, my friend re-appeared and helped me to the car. I promptly passed out.
From this point I am going only from stories I heard. While my dad drove us home, my ex and his friend discussed how good McDonalds would be ( you know you've eaten McDicks when you were drunker then a skunk and woken up the next morning wondering what ever possessed you to buy that Big Mac or Blizzard). This conversation then prompted my dear friend to become violently ill in my Dad's truck and outside the truck.
I woke up at this sudden stop and upon seeing her vomiting I to then began to vomit up whatever was left in my stomach. My ex quickly jumped out to hold back the hair of both of us. My dad looked over at my ex's friend and prompted him with "shouldn't one of us get out and help?" my ex's friends response was this "Yup". Needless to say my ex had to go it alone.
I must interject and say, I had promised my ex earlier that night that I wouldn't drink "that much" and it was "more of social outing".
When we finally made it home, my mom was there to heckle us about our drunkenness. As we both headed downstairs my ex and his friend left. We have finally reached the lowest point in our story kiddies.
I made my way to the bathroom to go pee. I had the locked the door out of habit, and my friend at that moment suddenly had to vomit. I heard the angriest knocking at the door and while still on the toilet my friend burst in, proceeded to vomit in the bathtub and we both sat there looking at each other with vomit on our shirts and in the corners of our mouths.
Moral of the story: So by this point your probably to disgusted to ever read this blog again. I understand that. But if you take anything away from this blog let it be this. NEVER EVER bring your religious boyfriend out for a night of drinking and then get so raging drunk you can barely walk. Oh and never try to play "catch up" with an entire bar.
By the way, those tickets (you know, the whole reason we went) didn't even work by the time we got to the door of the club.
God has a sick sense of humor.
So I apologize to my many readers out there. I have become involved in my extreme effort to become a deadbeat for the summer. In fact, I think I succeeded this weekend when I spent all weekend at the beach, eating bar-be-que and drinking heavily. But I have come to you bearing a gift about my life and some helpful advice to those of you who are feeling the need to drink heavily this summer and how to avoid some serious mistakes.
Now this story does involve some of my friends whose names I will not reveal here due to the secretive nature of this blog and the fact that I may or may not be speaking to one of the parties involved. In fact I think we arn't even friends on Facebook anymore. Well I know that certainly means we are officially not friends.
When I was younger and stupider...AKA last summer...I had made a decision to stop drinking, trust me when I say...WORST DECISION EVER, because of a certain relationship I was in. This meant I had gone quite a few months without any liquor in my system. I had completely detoxed myself from my previous lifestyle of heavy partying and binge drinking. Okay maybe I'm being a bit dramatic, more like I stopped going out every other month for a friends birthday. But that didn't sound quite as fucking awesome did it?
Anywho, this fateful summer I was showing my horse at Spruce Meadows. Now it may look like a place of good clean family fun, but I kid you not Spruce Meadows is an enforcer of debauchery for the riders. In our gift basket things they willingly bestowed upon us a card that would get you into the skeeziest bar in the city for FREE. It was pretty much like giving an ADHD Kid 8000 pounds of sugar then setting him loose in an antique shop. Only bad things could come of it.
Anyways, my friend and I kept putting off using the free coupon. I mean we could have just not used it but realistically you can't just pass up free liquor. Now I had one problem. My boyfriend at the time was not a fan of drinking nor was he a fan of me drinking. I, however, in this one instance of physcotic decision making, decided that both my friend and I would head out to the bar. Now, not to be rude or anything I invited him along, and offered to him that he should bring a friend.
This is where things get messy.
As per usual everyone had serious problems getting their shit together so we didn't end up leaving till late. Once we reached the bar, after a series of trains and walks, the line was insane. I'm not talking you have to wait five minutes kind of line, I'm talking like you ain't getting in tonight kind of line. But we soldiered on.
3 hours, 8 frozen toes and 4 huge hot dogs later we finally reached the front door. By this time we had gathered a new posse. One, a huge douche, you know the type, dressed in a suit jacket to hit up a club? Spiked hair and possibly just laid down some cash to get freshly frosted tips. Yeah, that kind of huge douche. The other, a more interesting man who wouldn't reveal to us where he lived or for that matter anything about him. I'm pretty sure within the hour he told his lived in 2 different cities.
Ahh the people you meet in lines at clubs. You know the kind.
After pestering the bouncer enough, we at last entered the club at 1. We instantly realized we needed to be far drunker to even rationalize the thick of smell of desperation in the air. Without wasting time on coat check or even speaking to each other we got up to the closet bar and ordered about 20 drinks.
My Ex was less than impressed at me by this point. My friend and I started pounding shots of about every kind of alcohol. I'm not even kidding. It was perhaps in this moment that I may have told myself to slow down, but the frat boy in me was convinced that we were gonna make it out alive. Did I mention that most clubs close at 2? Yeaaaaahh.
Even after all those shots my friend and I were sure we hadn't had enough to drink. It was at this point in the night that things started to take a turn for the worst. We started stealing drinks. I should be ashamed, I should hang my head in complete embarrassment. But the longest part of the night hadn't even started and my friend and I were already complete messes. It wasn't until the club closed that the true moral of this story reveals itself.
As we headed out of the club, my friend and I started to truly feel the effects of the liters of alcohol we had just consumed. We were stumbling around like grandma at Christmas after to much wine and the world became like a game to us. As we made our way back to public transit, distractions were abound. I remember the two of us sitting cross-legged under sprinklers and dancing around in the water. My Ex's friend attempted to jump a median (keep in mind he had also tried to keep up with us) and let's just say his ass paid for it.
My Ex, being the only sober one, tried to wrangle us into heading towards the station. We were like a group of 2 year-olds with severe ADHD. When he finally did get us into the station, my friend and I fumbled for change for tickets exclaiming "I CAN'T READ THIS SCREEN!!! IT'S BROOOOKEEEENNN!!!!!!" Then breaking into hysterics. Meanwhile, my ex's friend was already boarding the bus without another thought for the rest of us. It took a while but we finally managed to purchase tickets and get safely onto the train.
Now public transit at 2:30 in the morning is a scary and interesting place, kind of like an insane asylum at night. As we rode in silence, each contemplating the previous events, our night took it's final turn. As we neared our final stop, I looked directly into my ex's eyes and in a dead serious tone I said "I don't feel so good". The look of horror on his face told me one thing, our relationship would never recover from this night. He simply said "Throw up in my sweater". I shook my head like a pouty 5 year old and prepared to heave my dinner all over the train. In a grace of God we reached the station and my ex quite literally picked me up and ran me to the nearest garbage where I proceeded to vomit. My friend and his friend both left, while he held my hair back and I apologized profusely between dry heaves. It turns out his friend went and got in the car with my dad and my friend was just kind of wandering around the station.
After I had finished heaving my guts(at least 15 minutes), he asked if I was okay to move. I nodded, moved two steps and then cried "NO!!!! I can't do it!!!!" and started crying. Here he took matters into his own hands and picked me up dramatic style (imagine that final scene in season 3 OC Ryan carrying Marissa) and carried me up the stairs where I continued to vomit into another garbage. Finally, my friend re-appeared and helped me to the car. I promptly passed out.
 |
| an actual picture of me passed out |
From this point I am going only from stories I heard. While my dad drove us home, my ex and his friend discussed how good McDonalds would be ( you know you've eaten McDicks when you were drunker then a skunk and woken up the next morning wondering what ever possessed you to buy that Big Mac or Blizzard). This conversation then prompted my dear friend to become violently ill in my Dad's truck and outside the truck.
I woke up at this sudden stop and upon seeing her vomiting I to then began to vomit up whatever was left in my stomach. My ex quickly jumped out to hold back the hair of both of us. My dad looked over at my ex's friend and prompted him with "shouldn't one of us get out and help?" my ex's friends response was this "Yup". Needless to say my ex had to go it alone.
I must interject and say, I had promised my ex earlier that night that I wouldn't drink "that much" and it was "more of social outing".
When we finally made it home, my mom was there to heckle us about our drunkenness. As we both headed downstairs my ex and his friend left. We have finally reached the lowest point in our story kiddies.
I made my way to the bathroom to go pee. I had the locked the door out of habit, and my friend at that moment suddenly had to vomit. I heard the angriest knocking at the door and while still on the toilet my friend burst in, proceeded to vomit in the bathtub and we both sat there looking at each other with vomit on our shirts and in the corners of our mouths.
Moral of the story: So by this point your probably to disgusted to ever read this blog again. I understand that. But if you take anything away from this blog let it be this. NEVER EVER bring your religious boyfriend out for a night of drinking and then get so raging drunk you can barely walk. Oh and never try to play "catch up" with an entire bar.
By the way, those tickets (you know, the whole reason we went) didn't even work by the time we got to the door of the club.
God has a sick sense of humor.
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