Oh man, I'm not gonna do anything, I think, except tell the truth.

Night the first:
arrive in SD. Walk up to Andy and without saying hello, shove phone with my mother on it into his face. This may have explained the next set of actions: the two of us devouring 20 beers in, oh, 2 hours. There was no breathing, only drinking. Until Andy broke out his airsoft guns.

Everything was fun and games and then the fucker shot my beer can (which dumped all over my crotch as I suckled as fast as I could). And then me. Of course we broke into a spontaneous gun fight. I totally won. His lip and arm were bleeding. Only my arm was bleeding. Of course, after I kicked him for falling asleep during the third Metalocalpyse viewing he woke up and threw a can of beer into my face that knocked one the lenses from my glasses about 15 feet.

Morning the Friday:
Woke up with a delicious taste of tecate (hint of tequila! and ass!) in my mouth. Proceeded to airport to collect Erica St. Louis that Andy did not know was going to be arriving. It was awesome. At lunch Andy was unable to speak for about 5 minutes. Which is hella impressive. Dude can chatter. Then we hung out on an air craft carrier and I though about shooting down Nazis. It was awesome.

Friday night was barhopping of doom. I was that guy with the camera in the fourth (fifth?) bar. However, in my defense, I totally blame Kara. She demanded I chug a pitcher of beer. Which I did, even after I reminded her it was her bathroom I was going to be vomiting in that night.

sadly, I didn't. I tried and failed. I needed that tactical.


Saturday the crying saw me shaking with I-don't-know-what through breakfast. But I did get a mild sense of reassurance when Kara reminded me they know where all of the nearby emergency rooms are. Sightseeing, blah, blah, Kara telling me not to be a drunk, blah, get to a party, down half a bottle of Jim Beam and 4 beers, kick both Andy AND Erica awake after they totally passed out at like midnight, if that late. Pansies.

Sunday was full of one breakfast, one airplane and one book on math.

In conclusion: my winter break rocked and I'm never forsaking beer again. Let's go get fucked up.

EDIT: just saw the post below this one. Check that time stamp. I have no recollection of writing that. heh, go me.

Labels: beer, booze, guns, kicking, Metalocalypse

- posted by Pat @ 9:07 PM

 
OMG. Just, OMG.

I woke up today with a bleeding forearm and a complete lack of vision. Not sure why, but someone threw a beer can into my face. Glasses lens was lost. For days.

Total so far:
Andy has a bloodied lip.
I have a bloodied arm.
I have a non-hippie life.
Stop bitching hippies?

I just farted like crazy. Go gas.
- posted by Pat @ 2:55 AM

 
Dearest Me:
I am heading to San Diego today for drinking. Possibly on the beach. For certainly in bars. You may even stumble into a soon-to-be-empty bottle of gin. I ask that you try and take care of yourself. Yes, you have two kidneys, but only one liver.

Remember, you, 'accidentally' drank 50 beers last time you were in the big SD. Do be careful.

Sincerely,
Fucking me? Really? You feel the need to sign this? This is a goddamned letter to yourself. Who the fuck do you think sent this?

ps sorry for the anger up there. *sigh* I've been under a lot of stress lately. damnable Mr. Hyde

pps Mr. Hyde isn't sorry at all and wants to light things on fire. Like this bottle of syrup. Okay, he's a retarded Hyde. Hurrah!

Labels: booze, multiple personalities, San Diego

- posted by Pat @ 1:10 PM

 
Making chairs is like the dumbest goddamned thing ever. Here we have a store full of people who sell and haul these chairs around. These chairs are packaged inside of awkwardly large boxes built to hold a unconstructed padded cloth desk chair.

The packaged chair does not fit into a normal car space. In fact, I believe that the constructed chair fits into the same freaking space as the unconstructed chair.

So, we have annoyingly packaged chairs. Hurrah. This is not something new, really, most things come in terribly useless packaging. Really? We need bubble wrap to make sure the feet of the already annoyingly packaged chair don't get scratched? Oh, and put some cardboard around that bubble wrap. Now, what's the first thing you do after spinning around in your new plushy desk chair?

Put your feet on the feet of the chair and scratch them. Thanks guys! You're retards.

So, why don't the people at the store make these for me? Yes, I'll pay 20 bucks more. Your allen key can bite my ass.

Additionally, it should not take me 35 minutes to put together a chair. Or, if that's really needed, I want more then 85 words and two diagrams to do it. Office Max and chairs from itasca? You suck.

Labels: chair, glad I'm drinking beer, suck

- posted by Pat @ 10:14 PM

 
I'm in a better mental state today. Ohm and all that shit. Do not ever disparage the recuperative powers of sour cream and cheddar ruffles, Brooklyn lager and a ham sandwich. (side note: I've been spelling 'sandwich' as 'sandwhich' until right now. Thank you google spellcheck! Haha, it highlights, 'google' as being spelled wrong. Oh, it wants me to capitalize it. Fascists.) Work remains busy but, eh, I'm doing what I want and, thankfully, its all stuff that needs doing.

I attempted to go rock climbing today with the British Roommate. I kinda succeeded. I was expecting to do the traditional get a harness, a rope and go up thing, but they were awfully busy. Instead we went bouldering. This means we went up the wall between .5 inches and 2 feet then went sideways. This is way more fun then expected.

Except for when my right forearm exploded. That was less then fun. I thought I had gotten a bruise from holding on too tight. No impact, just internals exploding. The odd red/purple 3 inch wide circle went away after a few minutes.

Hint to the group: after sustaining a muscle injury in the forearm of the arm where you have had repeated wrist ligament and tendon injuries do not attempt to do chin ups. That is less then intelligent.

I'm gonna get better at that wall climbing thing. And my forearms will be made of solid steel. Its gonna rule.

Streetlight Manifesto tomorrow. I am stupidly amazingly excited. I haven't been to a ska show since, uh... jesus. no idea. I guess some random huge thing? I need to get out more.

Labels: beer, bouldering, personal injury

- posted by Pat @ 12:21 AM

 
Still not smoking. I've started to settle into this non-smoking life pretty well. But there are some odd things I'm noticing:
- after a rough 4 weeks (really? 4 FUCKING WEEKS?) of bowel, 'instabilities' I seem to have dropped into a normal one or two poops a day regime. I have not been this, 'regular' since before my trip in India. That was 2003.
- I am eating worse. I don't know why.
- I have less energy on a daily basis
- have not been to the gym in over two weeks and I'm wondering if I'm ever going again
- high levels of confusion and general disorientation about what I'm doing with my, 'life'

So, uh, yeah the bowel calming and the whole not increasing my odds for cancer by 200,000% things are totally sweet, but I'm thinking there may have been something positive in there.

Fuck, man, I swear I was smiling when I started this. You can tell because the first dash point there I used caps AND parens. That means I'm happy. And making you laugh. And if you're not laughing then I'm getting angry because That was a Joke and You the Reader Laugh when I Make Jokes like when I Stop knoWinG hOw basIC CapiTializAtIOn RuleS work.

The Zutons: awesome in any form but preferably aural.

Labels: bowels, not smoking, sad

- posted by Pat @ 12:52 AM

 
On the upside, it turns out I can still drink myself into a coma. I slept for a solid 14 hours after mauling Dan(onthisblog)'s booze selection. I repeatedly called champagne, "candy" and slammed approx. one bottle's worth of the stuff. Possibly more. Then some cosmopolitan things. I don't know. It was bright green and contained a whole lot of vodka.

DOWN THE HATCH.

I *think* I blacked out around 1 am. Got home at 4. Guess what I did in the interim...

What, you're expecting me to answer? How would I know? I was blacked out!

Fool.

Damn, two posts in a row with no discernible structure. Hoo-rah.

Labels: bad writing, booze, vodka

- posted by Pat @ 5:57 PM