12 beers a day

I started this blog with one goal in mind, Get drunk as much as possible and write about my drunken stories. I then found out my liver cannot handle so much drunkenness and turned this into somewhat of a gossip blog, based mostly on entertainment and occasionally sports as well. Well, without further ado, here is my first drunk story, or at least the parts I can remember.

Time is just before 7 and me and some friends decide tonight seems like a good night to go out and have a couple of beers. I figure my bosses are out of town for the weekend, so coming into work hungover is something I can definitely do the next day, without to much consequence. We decide to hit Texas Roadhouse for happy hour, which ends at 7, so we get there at 6:50 and order 4 tall frosty glasses of brew, just before happy hour ends. As we sit there and drink our delightfully tasty order, we make friends at the bar. By friends I mean weird old guys who like to brag about how much money they make and how much they wish they were me and could still get young poon. This guy sitting beside me walks in wearing a straw cowboy hat. Now granted, I do live in South GA., but who the hell wears a straw cowboy hat? Not even guys who are actual cowboys would sink themselves to this level. There is one chair between me and this wanna-be cowboy, yet he continually talks. I’m a nice guy, so I listen and throw in the occasional “your in the right business” every now and then, out of good measure. Much to the pleasure of my friends sitting on my right, one of which is chugging nothing but sweet tea. They make fun and ask me if I got his number, haha, real funny, douchebags.

Eventually I am saved by another friend who happens to show up and fill the voided chair to my left. He is now trapped in conversation with cowboy troy over there, who utters “where is all the fine poon at in this town”, to which we give directions to the total of 3 bars here in Val D. “I’ll buy all your drink if you find me some eye candy”, is a saying I cannot hear enough. Cowboy troy, by the way, is taking shots of Wild Turkey, a scene right out of the “Punisher”.

Eventually we finish our mugs and move on to bar number 2. A part I left out was all my other buddies who were drinking, they ate food at the Texas, but me? Nope. No food. It’s part of my diet. Not to mention I only planned on drinking a couple, WRONG! We move on to El Toreo, at least I think we did, this part is fuzzy. It’s amazing to me that after 4 beers, probably 8 bottled beers to you folks who need specific terms, that I am pretty much drunk. I drink alot, and usually can hold my beer, but food seems to be a key ingredient to my sobriety, and last night, I had none.

Anyways, we stay there for a bit and I pound back a few more. We then end up going to ladies night at this little hole in the wall bar called Mellow Mushroom. I really should write a review about them. My friends and I by this point are just having a good time and my girl shows up there too. This means no flirtatous activity is allowed while the female prescence I call significant other is around. God I hope she reads this. Ha. I think half the night I am trying to convince myself I can help get my friend laid, when really all he is doing is talking to some girl, while at the same time thinking I can help any guy there get laid. It’s not even midnight by this point.

I feel like I am about to pass out on my desk, I am that hungover. Did you read the part about it not even being midnight yet? I wish I had my camera so I could have taken a picture. I’m sure my eyes were glossed over in the back of my head with my hat on crooked and my pants falling off. I’m cool like that. By 12:45 I am done. I just worked 9 hours, had been drinking for almost 5, with no dinner need I remind you, so I was pretty much gone. My kinda sorta somewhat significant other was not ready to leave so we get into it. She punches me in the gooch and I go on with my business. I’m exagerrating a little bit, but you get the point. She leaves with me and sees a dead cat on the road. I am reminded of this due to a text she just sent me saying, “We saw a dead cat last night. I almost cried”. To which I replied, “I know”, but in reality, I don’t remember.

Things started getting fuzzy around 10, so I could basically have made everything up after that, and I truly would believe it actually happened. Considering I have a total of 5 readers who may or may not see this, it does not seem to really matter if I am making this stuff up or not. Usually I have pictures to stimulate the brain and confirm my drunken acts. Unfortunately last night it was flooding like Madonna’s vagina, so I wasn’t about to ruin my camera.

If you want to see more drunken escapades and adventures you need to friend me on myspace and facebook. I have numerous pics which remind me of my drunken stupors. For now, I must return to this place I call 9 to 5. Blogging isn’t paying the bills for me just yet, but wait, and it will. BANGED! That is the word of the day.