First, my weekend began approximately at 8pm on WEDNESDAY night, thanks to gking's unprecedented coaxing: "Doc, let's go drinking in the city with Boogie!"
My reaction was one of surprise and superstition. Was gking finally setting in place the ambush he's always threatened? Would I be able to make it through alive? To my further surprise, our old buddy, Boogie, was ready and willing to accompany us to philly for a night of debauched drunkery. Let me explain this character known as "Boogie" to you: He's a playa (and a player) with a passion for women, games, and persistently TRYING to defeat my cast-iron liver in glass-for-glass drinking contests. As I had presumed, our night began well enough...
We entered the Dark Horse Pub on South Street to the tunes of the Grateful Dead, and two chicks making out at the end of the bar. "This is my kinda place" I informed my cohorts, and immediately ordered a round of drinks and shots. We spent the first hour or so catching up on old times, making the same old jokes (which, somehow, still retain their humor), and staring at the two chicks as they locked lips, fell over their bar stools, and danced what i like to call "the drunk white chick shuffle". It was truly a sight to behold.
Boogie and I had pounded away at least 6 pints each and about 5 shots of jager bombs or as I like to call them, "Special Olympic Newbie in a glass" (thank you Tucker Max!) in under an hour, and we were feeling awfully sure of ourselves, so I invited Slutty Bi-Bar chick Number 1 (quite cute) and 2 (not really) over for a drink and conversation. I introduced myself and the rest of my running crew (sniper was stone cold sober, but the one shot and beer he had gave him the complexion of a homeless wino on a 40 dollar binge night; Boogie was singing the Sephiroth theme song of Final 7; and I was loquacious and idiotic--even more than is typical for me! In other words, we were a kick-ass group of young, sexy, heterosexual males and therefore quite irresistible to the opposite sex).
The girls sat with us for a while, we drank, talked, one of the girl's former boyfriend showed up and he and I discussed the intricacies of driving in New Jersey while Slutty Bi-Bar chick Number 1 go-go danced for our (mine, mostly) manly delight.
I could go on from here, detailing the bar-scene, but to be honest with you...it degrades as I do a few more shots and a few more beers. There's brief glimpses of further conversations, me dancing possibly, I think I almost got in a fight but the guy whose face I was going to rapidly and repeatedly accelerate into the pavement intelligently decided to avoid the poor odds (3 vs. 1) and continue to stumble down the street.
On a positive note, I decided to direct sniper through scenic South-west Philly to take us home. That ended up taking a good 2 hours longer than it should have. Through the ghetto. At 3 in the morning.
I'm a genius, I know.
And here's the cherry on top of the motherfucking Sundae: I had to get up and drive to work at 5am that same morning! I'll let you draw your own conclusions from that.
Here's a video to entertain you losers who need visual and auditory stimulation:
--HK_Newbie
