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I Hate You Liver

With Jay Doss being back where he belongs, here in the centre of the universe with us, this past week has been a straight shit-show. We've been drinking like we were still in Lister Hall again, and apparently believing that even still at our advanced ages, we are still appealing to the young girl crowd of The Ship. Muley addressed this very well in his last entry, and most of us were creeping it up pretty well, looking totally unappealing in our boozed up state. After seven years of living in Edmonton, I still can't get it through my brain that chicks don't like guys who smell like they just had a bath in Jack Daniels, or whose eyes are burning holes through their bummers or their yams. Yes, I don't learn from my mistakes, but that's okay. I'm comfortable in my idiocy.

The one thing that I do know, though, is that my body definitely cannot handle the excesses of alcohol like it use to. The hangovers are unbelievable now, to the point where I seriously think that I am close to breaking into weepy girl tears. Yes, I know I sound like a gay, but I ran for mayor of pain and I won (credit to Jody on that one). My liver is close to death now, and when it goes, I go. Regardless, Doss is in town, and we all knew that we had to charge on through the madness. Thursday's gong-show was an opening act for the Drink and Puke Party (a.k.a. Friday afternoon).

Arriving with Craig Blair to SCABS' place at 1:30 with a 60 of rum to meet Muley, Chad, Doss, and Jeremy, we immediately started boozing. I was really hungover from the day before, but thank God that my alcoholism kicked in, as I was soon "Moosing-up" (according to Craig)- swearing and generally acting like a waste of oxygen. SCABS had Grand Turismo 4 at his place, so the classic battle had to be waged. Yes, Moose in an '83 Corolla versus the Jeremy in an Echo. I lost, and this would later prove to be the theme of the weekend.

As I was getting worked at video games, the rest of the mangs were playing poker. In my mind, this was a recipe for disaster, as pissed-drunk cocks and gambling can only lead to terrible things happening. Soon, "twat", "cunt-face", and "ass-fuck" were being thrown around with reckless abandon. Combine this with the requisite racial slurs, and you know that the group had reached prime time. Fucking money.

Soon, my addiction to being stupid when I'm wasted raised it's ugly head, and I decided to go to the nearby Mac's. Fucking bad idea. I was in the "charming-drunk" stage, and I managed to con Jody, SCABS, and Doss into coming with me. We also left with instructions from Captain Asshole to buy him a hoagie. We ended up buying him a salad. I could say that I care about his health, but really, I just wanted to fuck with him. Eat shit Houle. At the Mac's was when we shone. Jody was dropping the N-bomb every two seconds or so, SCABS was fucking every women in the place with his eyes, and Doss was laughing so hard that I thought that he was going to soil himself. I was in the mood for pornography.

"I need the porn with the ugliest women possible," I asked the cashier girl behind the counter.

"The ugliest women?" she asks, laughing.

"Yes please," I reply. She hands me a High Society, the magazine that would later be used to decorate Paddy's bathroom.

"Are you single?" I ask her.

"Yes, are you?" she said.

"Obviously," I reply.

"Well maybe you should leave me your card," she said.

"Well, I have beer to drink, so maybe another time," I replied, leaving the store.

We arrive back to SCABS place, and a game of bowling was going on in the hallway, the poker game had degraded into a yelling match, and the place smelled like a fucking brewery. It was disgusting in how much fun it was, and it reminded me so much of the nights in Lister Hall when we would get ourselves juiced on the floor. Vandalizing Paddy's bathroom with some of the most disgusting pictures ever only further confirmed this fact.

Two more hours of solid boozing had us realize that it was time to go to the Stonehouse. I remember next to nothing about this part of the evening, but these were some of the things that I vaguely recall: SCABS lost his coat for the second night in a row, and a Native dude got pissed off at me for some reason. Kunal bought a million shots of Jagermeister, and Muley was trapping people with his 5 XL t-shirt that he was wearing. This is a poor desciption of the events, as I simply didn't know what was going on most of the time. I'm sure idiocy reigned, but I was too busy killing my body with booze.

The drinking machine didn't get fired up the next day until around 7:00 PM. I had spent a lot of money up to this point, but I still was in the mood for partying. Turkey felt the same way, so we decided to go on the welfare and pick up some cheap shit. He was able to find cans of this vodka mixture that only cost one dollar each; he bought a million of them. I bought a magnum of Baby Duck Champagne, as I wanted to hurt the next day. We decided to destroy my apartment, and Scunt, Garthy, Greener, Turkey, and myself managed to turn a child's boardgame into a drinking misadventure. Soon, my place was fucked, Scunt was nearly vomitting on my coffee table, and the boardgame was thrown out my window by Greener and Turks. Fucking awesome. In the state that we were in, there was only one place on Earth that could contain the madness. Yes, we made the excellent decision of going to Diamond's Gentlemen Club, the closest peeler bar to my place.

The strippers are always interesting. You absolutely have to be wasted to enjoy it, as sobriety makes you realize that throwing pieces of metal at female genitalia is pretty fucking degrading. Indeed, I have had many interesting stripper stories from my short life. I have seen a pregnant girl on stage, taking it all off at Pinky's. I have seen a girl launch a ping-pong ball from her goodies at Fuzzies. I have witnessed a good friend (who shall go nameless) have a bottle of whipped cream rammed up his ass on stage due to evil friends. I have taken out a hundred dollars in loonies on Muley's stag with the intention of winning one hundred posters, only to come away without a single one because I was too ripped to aim properly. I have had a peeler push her tits in my face when I told her that strippers "are people too". I have eaten the lunch buffet in gynecology row (awesome hairy tacos). I had a friend's girlfriend (who shall also go nameless) flash the stripper for a poster. I have a friend who caught the worse case of SARS in the history of mankind when a peeler took his glasses from his face, placed them between her groin, got them dripping with goo, and put them back on his face. I had the pleasure of waiting in line for the urinal behind a guy who was spanking one off into the toilet. I have had the honor of having a stripper tell me about the reasons behind her career choice, to get money for coke, one night during a school party at the rippers. At this same school party, I had a cocky guy in my class piss off a dude so much that he ended up waiting in the parking lot for all of us with a 2 x 4 as a weapon. And last night, I had the pleasure of seeing the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen in my entire life. Honest to God, she was almost as hot as Paddy's young sisters (or the coug that Jody had relations with). She nearly helped me win the battle with my ED. In short, I'm in love.

To make a very long and sordid story short, rounds of lap dances were purchased, which were strange to say the least. The beer was cheaper than the Power Plant, I fell in and out of love with every dancer on stage, we nearly lost another coat, and the cabbie nearly ran over Greener after he dropped him off.

Reading this blog entry back to myself, I know that it isn't up to the quality of the previous entries. I just drank waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much this weekend, and in some ways, it's a bit disappointing that I don't have more memories. It's not often that an old friend from Philly comes up, so as the stories start rolling in from the friends, an updated chapter can be added. Fuck, Liver, you should eat some shit. You let me down, preventing me from drinking like a raging alcoholic while still retaining total recall of all the shit that went down.

Moose

posted by Team Shawn Michaels @ 6:59 p.m.