Personal Pub Crawl and Prostitute Harassment
I don’t know what it is but going out for “a few drinks” with my friends always turns into some epic drunken quest of ridiculous deeds and sadistic urges to defy any normal amounts of alcohol consumption. What started as a harmless 5 a 7 with NardStar evolved into pure, unfiltered stupidity and as history has proven, nothing first-rate could have possibly come of it.
Cuban Consumption Crisis: Idiocy Reborn
Just a few months ago the fellas and I travelled to Cuba. It was March break for the Cegep students and our timing could not have been better to meet a bunch of young booze hounds ready to drink themselves into oblivion. But those tales are mired in confusion and enormous memory lapses. What follows is the first night we landed and the only night I will write about due to what I just mentioned as well as political strife and murky international relations.
You’re Pretty When I Drink: The Beginning
Every tragedy has its roots and the troubled beginnings of my getting far too drunk with my group of friends can be traced back to what was a time of innocence; the early years of high school. Or maybe it was nightmarish torture and absolute hell, depending on the kind of high school crowds paid attention to you. We floated in the middle. Not the most popular crowd and not the ones being picked on. Or maybe we were. How the fuck should I remember, my memory has taken a savage beating since that fateful night where it all began.
Lessons in Life at the Habs Game
As should have become apparent through other stories posted here in the past, Habs games at the Bell Center equal damaging, destructive drinking nights for myself and whoever else is involved. This Saturday night in early January would be no different as BrownTown and I had tickets to watch our beloved Canadiens play those shit shoveling Bruins. It was very much the alcohol riddled disaster we’d knew it’d be, but this time we’d leave with a valuable lesson learned in sport.
The Ukraine Succumbs to a Confusing Attack….Because of Me
This past August, on a lovely Thursday summer evening, four young and successful champions of liberty and justice ventured out to a renowned middle-aged pick up bar, named Thursday’s incidentally, for what they only expected to be a casual happy hour outing. Little did our heroes know the perils and drunken futility that lay ahead on this seemingly peaceful but essentially treacherous adventure.
Normal Camping for Some, Pain and Minor Mutilation for Me
I’d be lying if I had an accurate date for when this happened. I couldn’t have been more than 19 years old when a bunch of us went camping at Oka Park with the subtle and attainable goals of getting sloppy drunk and setting things on fire. Over the years I usually try to go camping for a single night with buddies at least once during the summer and it’s always a pretty good time. This particular trip was the first time I’d gone with friends and I would be reminded of it forever whenever someone looks at my back.