EPTMy weekend was this way for two simple reasons: My brother's bachelor party, my girlfriend being out of town. In a bit of a nutshell, this meant I could get as crazy as I might, without having to face the, "do you know what you did last night?" and trying to circumlocate my way to how I pissed her off that particular Friday or Saturday. The bachelor party is comparatively self explanatory.
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So long brother, it was fun when you were childless and not ordering pants via catalog, or discussing the merits of various types of paving stones. Maybe I'll meet you there someday, until then, you know which bar to find me at.
You would think as the best man you would get to have a bit of fun yourself at the party, but when I got a text message a half hour before we were to leave the bar for the horse track requesting we bring the party bus to a group of guys, it quickly dawned on me that this was not going to be the case.
Now there were 8 of them to pick up, which was a bit under 50% of the total party, so I was a bit obligated. This doesn't change I would be made to babysit 30 year olds who were well out of practice with the drinking/bachelor party axiom, "It is a marathon, not a race."
The trouble began when two individuals with whom I had drank for years in school, started out the bus journey with a 1.75 L bottle of shit rum. Par for the course as far as I was concerned, but they opted to play the game, "Lost the cap." If you're not familiar, you just chuck the cap where you will, and, "now we have to finish it," per their own stellar logic.
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This is where the trouble starts.
We survive the track, but the momentum with which we had entered into our afternoon and evening of drinking, had slowed considerably. Which was what I was hoping for, as our next stop was a bit of adult entertainment. As we came in a group, cover was free, but now the rum had set in and as the bouncer was attempting to give his spiel about no touching and other common sense, I was made to yell and do everything short of tell them to sit crosslegged for us to get in.
This was followed by one guy, a bringer of the shit rum, to get a bit too informal with a bouncer and basically be put in time out on the party bus. For those who don't know that particular breed of bouncer is not especially well known for their levity. Things got to the point where he nigh got a portion of the group exiled to the bus. You can imagine, I was in a good mood.
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My feelings at that point and time, I've since cooled and I may settle for a kick in the shins.
So as I had my real time revenge, watching Drunks McGee pass out on a cheap, vinyl bus seat that is oh so common in the states and I hope else where. We wound things down some. Opting for pizza, because we would not have been served otherwise in any proper establishment, and finishing off the night leaving a slew of cigarette butts, eventually vomit from at least two people in a buddy's yard. From there the night closed. If I were looking for a qualifier, we smoked about an episode and a half of Mad Men worth of cigarettes; my poor, goddamn lungs.
I managed to get home some how, and waking up the next day, I made a very solemn vow to myself.
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What I was really made to face was the fact my neighborhood was blocks away from a large block party which kicks off every June including live music, food that is delicious but awful for you, and grain alcohol which I couldn't bring myself to look at for the time being.
Instead I opted for a day of sedentary R&R with the dog, hanging out in my tent which for reasons unbeknownst to me, I had set up in my computer room the night before. As I said the girlfriend was away, and I was free to play and based on the level of air conditioning being pumped through my window unit I suspect I know what drunk ThomasjServo's motives were.
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Alright this bit didn't happen, but I am this deep into Spaced gifs, I am goin' big.
All this, meant I was dodging phone calls, and texts, enjoying the sweet sweet nectar that is cancelling plans, in order to watch a couple short animes, and wallow in self pity for a day while occasionally taking the dog out for little sojourns so he wouldn't mind napping with me. All the while loosely fathoming that I was drinking enough water to put a small dent in the level of dehydration I had achieved the night before.
Bear in mind, that at the age of twenty five, and it will only get worse, that hangovers aren't so one and done as they used to be.
So now Monday, I am not physically hungover, but the mental bit of it is still around. That is to say the sluggishness and desire to be in a small, cold room with televised entertainment being blasted at me rather than sat at my desk and made to commute at 6:20 in the morning. Regardless I am exhausted. My expectations for tomorrow are just as low:
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