Hi fans. Listen, I want to apologize to all of you…see I have been extremely busy with work and have had no choice but to neglect the site. I did find time last Sunday to do it (as I was to have some days to myself), but the Football Championships kinda got a hold of me…and I drank…heavily. Now I know this is no excuse for all of you loyal followers, but when I say heavily I mean that I was in and out for 4 days. so what I am going to try to do for you is give you a chronicle of that time (as best of a picture that my recollection can paint) in hopes that sharing it with you was just as good as you being there with me, and that is fuckin awesome let me tell you. Here goes nothin:

Day 1:

If there was such a thing as total silence I did not know it. That isn’t to say that my days as of late had been filled with stimuli and an overabundance of excitement, no quite the contrary, my life had been work served with a side of deadlines and a big glass of crude pasty extra-long hours to wash it all down. Silence, however, was NOT on the menu as the incessant rattling of keyboards, dull hum of electronics, and incredibly powerful lounging sound of dragged coffee cups “enriched” my otherwise dead world. One particular noise stung harder than the rest, driving nails into my brain with each reciprocation: the ticking of the clock. Each stroke yielded a heavy, guillotine like chop inflicting equal metaphorical damage to my motivation. After what seemed like my second eternity working in the “Great State of Texas” [said with disdain], I felt I had earned a bit of leave time….a few days worth in fact, with a splattering of a meeting here or there…but still a decent possibility. Turning up my eyes to that dastardly clock, I read the time (11:30am) and quickly concluded that it was most sincerely the end of my productivity for the day, and within moments had snatched my assorted articles of clothing and accessories to shoot out the door leaving nothing but a Looney-toon style dust silhouette in my wake to account for my presence.

I pulled into my hotel with the stretching grin of a dog, just the freedom of unshackling myself from work was ecstasy enough, forget the knowledge of Football Championships and booze. I opened my door with such speed that I’m sure the friction erased the magnetic strip on my keycard, I ran to the phone like a lioness on attack to call a few coworkers and cohorts whom were also in the area. The dial tones and button pushes might as well have been the symphony to my downfall. The next hour went by like the scenes in that Saun of the Dead movie, whooshing thru the shower then dressing then blasting thru a quick meal before ending on a quick shot of my covering my physique in body spray (read:known as the toolbag shower). Partying commenced at 30 minutes to kickoff: 2 pitcher of 50/50 margaritas sweating on the counter, 42 individual bottles of beer stacked in castle form ready to drink, nachos and wings steaming on the computer desk (do remember I am in a hotel), and the four shots of tequila shared amongst us to start it all off. *clink*. drink.aahhhh, it was on. Fast forward to 4th quarter of the first game, Score is tight and pressure high. The sporadic plays on the field retorted in our cheers and screams. We are well into our second pitcher of Margaritas (keeping the ice separate is the key to long-term margarita indulgence) and we have, to say the least, begun to slush around with our slurring and stumbling. Come the end of the first game our merry-making had gotten a bit overwhelming for the hotel to contain so we decided to head out to the nearest watering-hole (at which I had made friends with to of the bartenders) to continue our football watching (read: heavy drinking).

The thick smell of sweat and spilled booze basked our senses as soon as we opened the door, instantly making us feel at home. As we stroll up the bar to find a seat for our libation consumption, all manner of folk are passed by: a 6 foot tall bald-headed fat man sweating just from standing there, a woman dressed in 4 or 5 different colors of high visibility running gear, a midget seemingly donning a clown suit, all in their own unaffected little world, just as we were. I grabbed my motley crew a row of seats 3/4s of the way down the bar and immediately ordered a round of Vodkas in Sprites for everyone from my lovely friend Christina, best bartender around (she let me drink all night one time and only charged for one beer and a basket of fries). The drinks were going down like a prom queen and by 6:30pm-ish we were no longer distracted by the ambient rabble of the other bar trash. the lights started to blur as we shook the glasses on the bar with the collision of our fists in revelry of the second Championship game. That’s about were I slipped out of consciousness for a bit, from what I gather the next few hours was simply a slow-motion scene were booze flies around like your not paying for it and a plethora of drugs have all of a sudden become a common commodity just because some heavy based mood music overtook the scene (at least that’s how I imagine it went). I came to just before midnight when we were driving quite professionally in and out of traffic over various lanes to get to a house party we had heard of. Looking around I realized we were missing one of our crew and that all of the bottles lying about were empty, feeling like I only had enough time to ask about one I obviously asked “do we have any more beer?”….the answer was yes, in case you were on edge about it.

Pulling up to this house was a bit tricky but we were able to find a spot for my rental on the front lawn of the home, strange..why didn’t anyone else take the front row parking. the house was nicer than I would have thought (in present mind, as I didn’t really care much then), I was expecting something along the lines of a slanted shack, decrepit and clearly a safe occupancy violation. This home however was, just about livable. Walking thru the door gave you the average movie-styled party, people just spread about in their different sects jamming to an odd variety of music the strangely enough is just as audible in every part of the house. WE made our way thru the crowd like Ezio Auditore to find that precious artifact we desired most, beer…and free beer at that. after what seemed like ages of being lost in the labyrinth layout of the home we stumbled upon a gorgeous woman whom graciously looked up at us, flicking away her sunlight colored hair out of her blue sky’d eyes, and asked us “ya’ll fellas like a drink?”. Ah an angel at last.

–End Day 1–

Okay, looking back on this Im not so sure that it’s as fun as it seems in my head, but I have 3 more days of this shit (gets a bit more wild, and colorful due to drunkard’s memory). so Im going to put a poll up, and let you guys vote whether or not I continue with this garbage, okay?

28 Jan This entry was written by CatastroFUCK and published on January 28, 2012 at 1:03 PM. It’s filed under Story Time and tagged angels, bartenders are the angels of liquor heaven, booze, driving recklessly, I am NOT a role model, kinda boreing, non-alcoholic=non-fun, southern drawl. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.