1. Instead of just hanging out and getting drunk at the Kalinas' house, Humboldt Gong put me to work again and had me host live band karaoke out in the suburbs.
2. Some hammered glittery girl wanted me to help her sing her songs, which is fine, but unfortunate and embarrassing for me, because it meant that everyone in the bar learned that I know all the words to "Folsom Prison Blues" and "Just a Girl." Seriously, representing Johnny Cash Come Latelies and No Doubt? For shame. I'm too fucking elite for that.
3. Then some people mustered up sixty bucks to have the band play "Mustang Sally" to bring in the New Year, which is fine with me because I don't care what you say, I love that song and I'll sing the fuck out of it (this totally falls within my rights as an elitist). The band (Eli) is being all Johnny Lee Hooker about it (Hooker banned the song from his bar in San Francisco) after an overexposure to blues rock from serving at whatever Chicago blues bar for however long.
I'm granting myself the freedom to be sloppy and long-winded today because it hurts behind my eyes and my elbows are all fucky. Frakkin' two-day hangovers.
4. People start calling the bar around 1:45 asking for me, wondering when I'm gonna hit up the Kalinas' party. They avoid my cell phone, and call the bar at least four times, yelling into the phone, "GET THE DJ. THE ONE ANNOUNCING THE SONGS. SHE'S PROBABLY SINGING 99 RED BALLOONS. AUF DEUTSCH! WHY ISN'T SHE HERE YET?"
5. I leave the bar eventually and head over to the party, where Schmee has already taken off all of her clothes and settled into bed, which is crap because I wanted to get drunk as balls, so me and Phil tried to get her naked ass to hang and failed miserably.
6. Kalina starts force-feeding me Jager (fucker) because I'm not drunk enough. I can't do Jager bombs, because Red Bull and all other forms of energy drink ruin my life. Except for Five Hour, but I am never doing shots of Jager and Five Hour again. Fucking horrible.
7. Drinking, laughing, fun. Drunk Dave gets slurry and yells at me for like ten minutes, all, "Do you love him? You love him. I can fucking tell. You're my woman, and you love him." It was funny at first, and I played along, but he started getting pissed off and serious after awhile. I had to shove him into a chair and calm him down, like, "Fucking Dave, I have no idea what you're talking about. Chill. And I ain't your woman. Have a cigarette, call your girlfriend, and shut up. No, Dave, you light the other end. Goddammit, lemme do it. Here. No, don't hit that, pot makes you puke and we don't have any buckets."
8. Mrs. Kalina (I never call her that, but it's funny because it makes her sound old instead of like, my age) adamantly separates Phil and I at bedtime (about 6AM. I can't hang anymore, man. I was exhausted). She was all ushering people into bedrooms, being a good little married hostess living a big house with her husband and his hammered friends, saying sing-songy things like, "Okay, Phil's in here," while she grabs my shoulders and steers me around, "so you have to sleep in this room. Would you like some water? No, honey, go in this room. Right over here. Don't forget to take off your shoes! Yes, you're sleeping in here. Go to bed. We are not opening another bottle of Jager. Good night, Ross."
9. Am woken up circa 1 PM by jumpy and snuggly MSM, who is still drinking, and Phil, who yells at me for not spooning.
10. It is decided that the first day of the New Year will be "no pants day," which was much funnier when everyone was drunk and now sounds kind of lame.
11. Leftovers are sometimes the best part of a holiday, and NYE leftovers are the greatest of all, because instead of turkey or baby carrots, it's the dregs of thirty bottles of champagne. We hand out mimosas to everyone (all six of us that are left), while I concoct a battalion of bloody marys for the troops. No one can beat my bloody marys, man. Ask around.
12. Drunk Dave returns to the party from an afternoon of drinking at The Can (bar). He has yet to sleep, after leaving the party in a cab, walking his dog, taking a cab back to the party, drinking, taking a cab to The Can, drinking, taking a cab home to get his truck, and driving back to the Kalinas' place with a friend, Drunk Ethan. Smart man, that Drunk Dave
13. While we all sit inside and feel sorry for ourselves and moan about hurt elbows and new bruises, Drunk Dave takes off his pants, sits in the garage, tries to do solitary keg stands and mumbles to himself.
14. Drunk Ethan calls his mom so she can come get him, and passes out while she is on speakerphone, yelling and trying to wake him up and to find out where her son is.
15. Ethan's mom shows up, and Dave still has no pants. "Where are your pants, Dave?" And Dave growls, "Right here" and points to a crumpled mess of clothes on the floor. Then he walks over to Ethan, throws him over his shoulder in a sad attempt to carry him out to his mother's car, but Dave's too hammered and drops Ethan on his head, gets all embarrassed and heads back to the garage like a depressed Charlie Brown.
16. Kalina says, "How much you guys wanna bet Dave's gonna piss himself?"
17. Drunk Dave comes back inside the house to tell us that the keg is dry. And to show us that he pissed himself.
18. It is funny.
19. I have to stop drinking, because it hurts behind my eyes (I'm saying it again, because it really fucking hurt) and I know that I've got a forty five minute drive back home.
20. Drunk Dave provides unending entertainment. Schmee calls out dance moves at random, which Dave attempts and fails at over and over again. The Mashed Potato. The Watusi. The Worm (that's just Dave humping the carpet).
21. During the four hours after I stop drinking, we consume large quantities of this delicious concoction of corned beef and cream cheese with like, onions and heaven mixed in and balled up into a giant beef ball. It is excellent on Triscuits and makes your breath smell awful, but goes well with Bloody Marys and beer.
22. I have one final beer after the four hour hiatus and the courage to leave. Also, me and Schmee dominate Catch Phrase.
Happy New Year, everyone. I know this was long, and I don't care.
Quote of the day: Are these stories real? In reference to things that did not necessarily happen yesterday, but the time when Dainon found the naked crackheads asleep in his backyard. And when Schmee got drunk and high, wasn't allowed to drive home, then convinced herself people had kidnapped her so she snuck out of the house and ran into a church looking for help, and ended up talking to a crisis counselor at the hospital at three in morning, and when asked to explain her behavior, she said, "I don't know, man, I've just been watching a lot of 24."
...
11 comments:
And all I did was play Arkham Horror.
Fucking impressive, my friend . . .
shit...you make me laugh. Please post Bloody Mary recipe.
99 Red Balloons? Really?
I am in AWE.
Tys: I know I said this on your blog, but seriously, I thought for sure Arkham Horror was about the Gotham City Asylum.
Franklin: Okay.
Ideally, you need to start with a shaker. Add ice.
Shot and a half of vodka (the type of vodka really doesn't matter. Personally, I go for the cheapest brand, or stick with something Dutch, because they tend to distill shit in copper pots, and it gives the vodka a better taste for salty drinks)
Shot of Guiness
Worcestershire sauce
olive juice
hot sauce (This gets tricky. I don't like Tabasco, but for BMs it's perfect. Louisiana hot sauces are best. Stick with straight up pepper flavors.)
garlic salt
black pepper
squeeze a slice of lime and drop it in there
Tomato juice. I have no idea how much. I count to three. Usually I'm making like five at once, so that would throw it off. It's all about the color.
Shake that shit up and pour it over ice, and toss a bunch of olives in there, cut a pepperoncini in half and throw that in there. Or bacon. Yeah.
I have a friend that likes hers fruity and lame, so we add lemon juice instead of Guiness, more garlic salt, and horseradish instead of hot sauce.
It's tricky.
Derf: Welcome to Thirsty Thursdays.
I hate when I have to quit drinking because it hurts behind my eyes.
I think that says something.
"when Schmee got drunk and high, wasn't allowed to drive home, then convinced herself people had kidnapped her so she snuck out of the house and ran into a church looking for help, and ended up talking to a crisis counselor at the hospital at three in morning, and when asked to explain her behavior, she said, "I don't know, man, I've just been watching a lot of 24."
That my friend is pure gold. That's screenplay magic, I can just see it happening.
That balled up beefy cheesy oniony thing? I ate that at Christmas on triscuits and it was the shit.
p.s. I just decided to buy myself a shaker at the after Christmas sales and make bloody marys. Come to think of it, how in the hell am i nearing 32 years old and i still don't have a shaker?
I can't decide if I'd want a friend like Drunk Dave or not, because while I love hilarity, I also try to distance myself from people who piss themselves, which is why I quit the Black Eyed Peas.
Booms: Thank god my description isn't that far-fetched.
FF: It really is, isn't it? Now I just have to convince her to give me the rights.
Blues: Get on that, man, seriously. I didn't know people could live without shakers. Everything is more delicious when it's shaken.
Pistols: Seriously, she couldn't just have gone before she went onstage? And postpone the show by what, like, three minutes? But yes, you do want a friend like Drunk Dave. Everyone needs a Drunk Dave.
Rassles, I had NYE with my mother. With. My. Mother.
Sigh.
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