Memorial Day?
Well, just got back from a weekend at the family's lake house.... unfortunately, the family was there too. Luckily, it is basically an excuse to get exceedingly intoxicated. And one such night was no exception.
My brother and I had bought a bottle of Jaegermeister and 8 Red Bulls, in order to do some fucking bombs. We ended up playing what I like to call "Drinking Pursuit", which is basically Trivial Pursuit with drinking penalties for incorrect answers. If you've ever played Trivial Pursuit, you know how bad this is going to be. The questions are pretty fucking hard, and I was still dominating, all the while cursing up a storm in front of my 9 and 12 year old cousins, who who left in our custody for the evening in a huge bit of bad judgement by my uncle. Playing said game were myself, my brother, my cousin, and his wife.
Between my cursing about how I would "totally have done Lindsay Lohan 2 years ago, before she looked like a fucking coat rack," (my 9 year old cousing was watching "Mean Girls") and calling my cousin's wife a "fucking jerk," I was in pretty rare form before the bottle of Jaegermeister came out. After that, it got a little fuzzy.
All accounts from the parties involved were different. Some say we finished the bottle in under an hour, using only 4 Red Bulls (!). Others claimed about 2, but the fact was, by 11 o'clock, it was gone. These were the absolute dirtiest Jaeger Bombs that have ever been made by humans, maybe 85% booze and 15% Red Bull. And my brother, who is three years younger than me, and weighs even less than me, turned into Captain Call-out after about 5 of them.
"Drink this fucking thing. Now."
Scared 3rd Party: "I like the ones where they mix Jaeger and Red Bull in 2 glasses. These are too dirty."
"Fucking fag, huh? Drink the thing, or I'll kick the fucking shit out of you, in front of the whole family."
Yeah, he takes after me in many, many ways.
So we finished the bottle and our parents returned to the cabin from the local "Memorial Day Dance / Raffle" or whatever the fuck. I hate going to it, so I stayed home and got hammered instead. Only they all got pretty hammered at the shitty dance as well. They just weren't in my league. A few things that happened after that:
My cousin's wife admitted to trying to kill herself in the recent months, and being institutionalized. Wow. What the fuck do you say to that, "too bad you can't even do that right"? If you're me, you do.
My dad earnestly asking me "why don't you just go to bed, and stop drinking?" My answer? "I'm fine, goodnight."
Me telling my mother to "shutup" numerous times. I hate it when my rage mixes with booze and family.
My brother loudly vomiting off the second story deck, with my uncle and I laughing our asses off the whole time.
Me screaming to said uncle that "all women are whores", and "I can't believe a fucking WOMAN pulled the wool over my eyes. I'm so embarassed. Why can't any of them keep their fucking crotches closed?" The best part was, he agreed. He named off about 4 women he thought he "loved" before he met his wife that fucked with him. He also said that by being single, my ex-girlfriend just "did me a fucking favor". I don't know if he really meant it, or if he was just frightened by my furious anger. Either way, it was a good talk. Plus, we got to watch my brother throw up, which ruled.
Then I passed out in my bed in the room I share with my brother in our lake house. Neither of us remembered how we changed into shorts and t-shirts, and we were afraid. Who undressed / redressed us? He had a huge fucking bucket and a paper bag lined with a plastic bag lining the inside of it. I laughed at him, took a huge dump the next morning, and went out to the living room to discover that my aunt was making a huge breakfast of bacon, eggs, and sausage. I eagerly stuffed bacon, eggs, and a cream cheese bagel into my face (the only way to beat a massive hangover is to kick it in the face with greasy breakfast food, not laying in bed like a punk bitch). It ruled. My brother, on the other hand, had to go back to bed because the smell of food was making him nauseous. I kicked my breakfast's ass, took a huge box of scrap wood down to the fire pit, burned it, and went out on our boat for a couple of hours to get some fucking air. I was fine to drink again the next night, while everyone laughed at my brother for barfing and sleeping all day.
I fucking rule. I'm a heavyweight in this game. By the way, I drank the night before as well.
Maybe I have some problems. But I'm still better than you. Way better. Plus I got to sit around all weekend in a sweet lake house my dad bought and eat sweet food that other people made for me and get shitfaced on booze that other people bought.
Maybe my life isn't so shitty after all.
Still, fuck you.
My brother and I had bought a bottle of Jaegermeister and 8 Red Bulls, in order to do some fucking bombs. We ended up playing what I like to call "Drinking Pursuit", which is basically Trivial Pursuit with drinking penalties for incorrect answers. If you've ever played Trivial Pursuit, you know how bad this is going to be. The questions are pretty fucking hard, and I was still dominating, all the while cursing up a storm in front of my 9 and 12 year old cousins, who who left in our custody for the evening in a huge bit of bad judgement by my uncle. Playing said game were myself, my brother, my cousin, and his wife.
Between my cursing about how I would "totally have done Lindsay Lohan 2 years ago, before she looked like a fucking coat rack," (my 9 year old cousing was watching "Mean Girls") and calling my cousin's wife a "fucking jerk," I was in pretty rare form before the bottle of Jaegermeister came out. After that, it got a little fuzzy.
All accounts from the parties involved were different. Some say we finished the bottle in under an hour, using only 4 Red Bulls (!). Others claimed about 2, but the fact was, by 11 o'clock, it was gone. These were the absolute dirtiest Jaeger Bombs that have ever been made by humans, maybe 85% booze and 15% Red Bull. And my brother, who is three years younger than me, and weighs even less than me, turned into Captain Call-out after about 5 of them.
"Drink this fucking thing. Now."
Scared 3rd Party: "I like the ones where they mix Jaeger and Red Bull in 2 glasses. These are too dirty."
"Fucking fag, huh? Drink the thing, or I'll kick the fucking shit out of you, in front of the whole family."
Yeah, he takes after me in many, many ways.
So we finished the bottle and our parents returned to the cabin from the local "Memorial Day Dance / Raffle" or whatever the fuck. I hate going to it, so I stayed home and got hammered instead. Only they all got pretty hammered at the shitty dance as well. They just weren't in my league. A few things that happened after that:
My cousin's wife admitted to trying to kill herself in the recent months, and being institutionalized. Wow. What the fuck do you say to that, "too bad you can't even do that right"? If you're me, you do.
My dad earnestly asking me "why don't you just go to bed, and stop drinking?" My answer? "I'm fine, goodnight."
Me telling my mother to "shutup" numerous times. I hate it when my rage mixes with booze and family.
My brother loudly vomiting off the second story deck, with my uncle and I laughing our asses off the whole time.
Me screaming to said uncle that "all women are whores", and "I can't believe a fucking WOMAN pulled the wool over my eyes. I'm so embarassed. Why can't any of them keep their fucking crotches closed?" The best part was, he agreed. He named off about 4 women he thought he "loved" before he met his wife that fucked with him. He also said that by being single, my ex-girlfriend just "did me a fucking favor". I don't know if he really meant it, or if he was just frightened by my furious anger. Either way, it was a good talk. Plus, we got to watch my brother throw up, which ruled.
Then I passed out in my bed in the room I share with my brother in our lake house. Neither of us remembered how we changed into shorts and t-shirts, and we were afraid. Who undressed / redressed us? He had a huge fucking bucket and a paper bag lined with a plastic bag lining the inside of it. I laughed at him, took a huge dump the next morning, and went out to the living room to discover that my aunt was making a huge breakfast of bacon, eggs, and sausage. I eagerly stuffed bacon, eggs, and a cream cheese bagel into my face (the only way to beat a massive hangover is to kick it in the face with greasy breakfast food, not laying in bed like a punk bitch). It ruled. My brother, on the other hand, had to go back to bed because the smell of food was making him nauseous. I kicked my breakfast's ass, took a huge box of scrap wood down to the fire pit, burned it, and went out on our boat for a couple of hours to get some fucking air. I was fine to drink again the next night, while everyone laughed at my brother for barfing and sleeping all day.
I fucking rule. I'm a heavyweight in this game. By the way, I drank the night before as well.
Maybe I have some problems. But I'm still better than you. Way better. Plus I got to sit around all weekend in a sweet lake house my dad bought and eat sweet food that other people made for me and get shitfaced on booze that other people bought.
Maybe my life isn't so shitty after all.
Still, fuck you.
Labels: drunkeness
posted by guru at 8:41 PM
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