So, it’s been a while. This drunken haze emergence is a process that sometimes takes until after St. Patrick’s Day. So, the 5th was my birthday and I had an extremely lofty goal: to army crawl home due to severe intoxication. So, the night started out easy enough, Rev and The Doctor came to pick me up and I was not at all ready, in fact I was still playing video games. Hey, it was my birthday, I’m allowed some latitude. So, upon my arrival to the bar, the bartendress bought me my birthday shot, jack, my favorite. So, then EVERYONE got in on that gag. Buy shots for Chud, he’ll drink anything! He likes it! Hey Chuddy, he likes it!
Well, I did like it. apparently a little too much. Shots kept coming, and someone dared me to do a rail* of pepper. I think it became elevated to double dog dare status (faaar too quickly for standard dare protocol if you ask me though) and thusly as per man code, I rolled up a bill and snorted that rail like it was coke and the bar was a hooker’s ass. Needless to say it didn’t go so well. I started snotting and itching and more or less had to blow my nose. And by more or less, I mean more. Then less. Then more again. It was funny really, the tissue was full of snot and pepper. Which I seriously don’t recommend using a spice combo in your next meal. Wholly unappetizing in appearance. Someone had the great idea to play beer pong, which I am a champ. HOWEVER, this was not the case this night as I had seriously degraded motor skills due to many beers and many shots. So we didn’t win any games, yippee shit. I did however go all Cloverfield (Godzilla) on the beer pong cups dashing them asunder whilst flailing my arms wildly like some lunatic that flails his arms wildly. Then I am told I did a pelvic thrust to the table to overturn it. I know I got a lot handsy with some of the girls and may have been yelling “it’s my birthday AND Mardi Gras! I wanna see some titties!” while trying to goad girls into flashing with some “bud bowl” beads. Yeah, I’m all class.
So, to recap for the night:
Beer pong table: 0
Chud: eleventy billion
Post Script (oooh, how pretentious i spelled it out!), I did not in fact "Army crawl" home, no one would let me. Though I have been told that it was debated to throw me in the bed of a truck and laugh as I lolled about as they drove home. lucky for me, the opted for letting me in the passenger seat. Or so I was told.