The Boys Go Out, I Decide I’m Rich
This all went down in October, just a few months ago. The Real Deal and I decided to go over to DMilz’s place to watch the Habs/Blackhawks and then hit St-Laurent afterwards for some alcohol induced mayhem. We picked up a 2-4 of Budweiser and made our way over to his place. We had our sleeping gear with us since we knew there was no fucking way any of us would be in any kind of condition to get home under our own steam. Here’s how the night went.
We got to his place just before game time but DMilz felt he needed to finish doing his laundry so we had to wait. He just got a PVR which led me to suspect the bastard was making us wait on purpose but that ship has since sailed and I’ve forgiven and forgotten this unproven treachery. We finally got the game going and began pummelling beers. Soon after, the bong was brought out. I don’t smoke all that much anymore, especially when I’m going out later, but I felt pressured since I was being made fun of. We hit the fucker a few times and went back to the beers.
Dmilz and his girlfriend, Lizzie, have a pet snake named Snakey. I was fascinated by it and kept poking his glass cage to get his attention. He ignored me. Eventually Lizzie offered to take him out so I could pet him and let him slither all over me. I was terrified at first but got used to him after awhile. Then, everything went sour. He was around my left arm, slithering around when he started constricting and B-lined for my face. I panicked. In my panicked state, I threw him to the ground. He wasn’t hurt but I realised throwing him to the ground may not have been the best reaction. I didn’t play with him anymore after that.
The game ended, the Habs fucking lost and Gonads the Barbarian showed up to meet up with us. We were pretty drunk at that point and somehow decided it was bottle night at A-Sides. Someone said bottles were only $100 until 11pm, which sounded delicious. It was 10:45 PM and we all felt we could still make it. I convinced DMilz to make a bottle rocket for the road, which ended up being way too potent for just a few quick drinks in very little time. Gonads the Barbarian drove while DMilz and I drank the booze. The Real Deal only pretended to which led to me drinking most of it. What ended up happening was me chugging nearly all that rum in 10 minutes.
Anyway, long story short, we got to A-Sides before 11 but it wasn’t bottle night. Fuck! What happens next? The lounge was just starting to get filled up so we decided to give it a shot and stay. After half an hour, I was destroyed. The bottle rocket completely ruined me. From here, everything went blurry. I went to the bar, whipped out my credit card and bought a bottle of Vodka for my buddies. Why? I don’t know. Do I make the kind of money that allows me to buy expensive bottles of alcohol at any bars? Absolutely not. Did I do it anyway? I sure did.
Payment was tricky. I gave my credit card and she asked me for a pin. Did I give my debit card? I meant to give my credit card. She assured me I gave her my credit card but I was confused as to why I had to provide a pin. Wasn’t she supposed to give me a paper to sign? By some miracle, I remembered I was sent a new card and vaguely remembered the pin for it. A second miracle happened when Gonads the Barbarian swept in to rescue me from leaving a ridiculous tip like I have done in the past. (I have been so drunk signing off bar tabs that I sometimes write the total amount of the bill in the tip column then forget what I was doing and add everything up for a horrifying grand total).
So there it is. Everyone had booze, I blacked out immediately after and woke up to Gonads telling me I was home. Huh? Home? So be it! I stepped out of the car and promptly fell to the ground. I got up, walked completely sideways and tumbled back to the ground. I got back up, tried walking forward but ended up on my belly again. Gonads the Barbarian had enough of me and took off while I desperately tried to stand up. I flopped around my front yard like a dead fish for awhile until finally I managed to scramble up my front steps. There I realized I didn’t have my keys and promptly fell asleep in front of my door hoping my mother would come back home that night to let me in. She did come back home...with friends which, apparently, was embarrassing for her.
I fell several times on the way up to my room, where I fell asleep next to my bed. I woke up the next afternoon with a vicious headache and was completely sore all over. Turns out that during the night, I went to take a piss and fell into the bathtub where I slept for a good portion of the morning, until my mother wanted to shower and felt awkward doing it while her drunk son slept in the bathtub. I had no house keys, I had made a bunch of drunken phone calls to my girlfriend, I found a receipt for the bottle I bought and felt like utter ass. Later that evening, I had a hockey game which suited me just about as much as sticking needles in my testicles. It was a very brutal Saturday.