1 post tagged “trip report”

Oct 9-14... or so. Have been a bit of a blur.  I have stories, but don't even know when they are from, whether it was early today or 4 days ago.  So, this is my non-linear mostly true, somewhat guessed tale of my weekend. 
    I went to the crab bowl two days in a row at one point, which makes me a "regular" by definition, and to be a "regular" at the crab bowl makes me a degenerate, by definition. a few nights ago I tried to go to a punk show but they were sold out.  I had been drinking heavily to pregame for the music, but now that there was no music, all that pregaming turned out to just be regular ol' binge drinking.  With no music to go to, Brian Risk and I walk to a nearby party.  Nay, we are driven there by some friends.  We are some of the earliest arrivals. We don't slow down, we are both wasted.  I am more enthralled by a very mean kitten than by anyone of the people at the over crowded party.  I fed the cat a little beer, he scratched and bit me.  Getting pussy drunk to get it to like me not working?  Seems familiar.  I don't remember much after hanging out with my new friend. I am told of a funny story about me in the morning. Here is a conversation I had with a troll named Treasure. (She should have stayed buried)

Max and I are standing out side chugging from a bottle of rum. Treasure approaches.
Treasure: hey guys, freshen up my drink
Me: Ok (grab bottle of booze from Max and her drink from her.  Pull from bottle, glug from her cup)
Treasure: HEY! You're not spiking my drink
Me: Oh, sorry. Here (pulls from bottle again, glugs more of her drink, hand both to Max and walk away)

I don't remember the next hour or so, apparently I puked, then walked back to Tucker and Mckenna's.  My fickle memory returns to me when I return to Tucker's.  I make Kalua  and peanut butter sandwiches for Tucker and I.  He is surprised and yells at me for ruining his sandwich. I pass out.

Last night: I'd been drinking for days, and more importantly all day, so I was tired.  I try to go to sleep at 9pm in Tucker's bed. Someone comes in and says "come drink".  I jump out of bed, run past them, leaving her in the doorway. Run to the kitchen, slam 3 shots that are sitting on the counter, and run to the back of the house again. This is going to be a good night.
It is, and now I'm hungover.

Other tidbits: Tried to kiss everyone, kissed no one.  My stomach feels like there is something wrong with it.  I've been substituting food with booze. I'm not sure if this bender is over.  This is fun.