Day Seventeen (last night) $20

I know I’ve been gone a little while, and no, my life doesn’t suck any less.  But I thought last night was worth writing about, so I’m back.  There’s a few other nights between when I stopped posting and now that I’d like to inform you about, but I’ll get to it when I get to it.

So last night.  Was going to go out to a bar, but instead was enticed to go to a ‘house party.’  Really just ten people, half of whom didn’t know anyone and were hanging out in a different room.  I show up with my roommates – who brought a 12pack of pabst – and a bottle of Jim Beam.  Things are chill, if not boring for a while.  Once we have a few beers we decide to stay instead of ditching for a bar.  Eventually a chugging contest comes up between one of the bigger dudes (in retrospect, he’s a fat motherfucker), and my roommate.  I’m going to start using names because my head still hurts.  So of course Andrew, my roommate, schools tubby.  Then another challenger comes in (BTW there’s a drunk chick that’s putting money down for the drinkers to win every time this happens).  One that’s much more cocky.  He loses, too, and not by a nose.  Just loses.  But he doesn’t agree.  He thinks he won.  So there’s a rematch, and tubby joins back in.  At this point Andrew has won over $10, and my side of the table is doing just fine.

Rematch results:

Andrew wins by a mile, tubby pukes on the floor (then cleans it up with a hand towel and hangs the hand towel BACK UP IN THE BATHROOM [tubby doesn't even live there]), and cocky-bastard skulks away.  So that’s the end of it, we thought.  We keep drinking in the kitchen, while loser and his loser friend hang out in the living room.  He comes in every now and then to remind us that he thinks he won the first round, and we remind him he didn’t.  Now is where it gets good.

At some point, all the people who have been drinking in the kitchen start laughing.  What are we laughing about?  All I can remember is bananas.  We were laughing about bananas.  No clue beyond that.  Loser (I think his real name might have been Cameron – he’s on a road trip from Central California up north so if you see him on the road, leave no evidence) comes in real pissed and starts yelling at us for ‘clowning’ him this whole time, that we’re laughing at him.  Keep in mind this is about an hour or two after the chugging contest.  Anyway, we try and tell him that while he didn’t win the first round, we were not and have not been laughing at him.  We were laughing about bananas.  But he doesn’t hear it, and we are all already standing.  Now it looks like it could have been a party, the amount of people that ended up packing into the hallway.  Loser and Andrew and pitted pretty closely in the middle, with a few people – including my other roommate – in between.  More shouting, more shouting… and I see a punch thrown that connects with Andrews dome and I throw one back into the fray.  And then there are a thousand fists on my face and I’m on the ground.  Here’s what I look like now (first picture of me!):

My mouth isn’t bleeding anymore, so I’m not going to include that.  Regardless, we got blind-sighted and destroyed.  I walked away with the worst of it (my elbows hurt, too), Andrew has a fat-lip and my other roommate got punched in the head and the arms a bunch, but she hasn’t even left her room yet.

So, we went home.  Out of cigarettes and beer, I walked to the corner store and managed to get in just before they closed.  I bought a 12 pack of Tecate and a pack of smokes.  More importantly, I drunkenly shouted to the store clerks about how my swollen face did NOT happen in our neighborhood, but elsewhere.  That our neighborhood is awesome.  I <3 u Oakland.

Whatever, let’s say I drank $20 last night.  I’m going to start drinking again right now, before noon.

$458 overall.  I’ll let you know how my other birthday party a few weeks ago went soon.

To whom it may concern:

I’ll update this when my life sucks just a little less.  I’ve got plenty to update, I would just rather drink right now instead of writing about it, too.

Day Sixteen (last monday) $12

Monday night, after band practice, I went into the city to stay with my girlfriend.  To be honest, I was a little nervous.  Not because of her, though, but because her new roommates brought a cat into the equation and I am allergic to cats to an unfortunate degree.  To counter the potential effects of the dander, I came to the apartment prepared with a 12 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon (motherfucker) and one of those $20 bottles of Jager (motherfucker).  I forgot the Zyrtec (motherfucker).  Fortunately, Stanley the cat seemed to have no effect on me (besides the occasional internal ‘aawww’), so I was able to drink with friends unencumbered by a flooded nose.  Not much else to tell, other than we had a fun time.  We eventually went to bed once there were no more shots or beers left to drink.  Sigh…

$12 ladies and gentleman, bringing us to

$438 grand total.

Quick heads-up: while I had my own little shindig last Thursday for my birthday, my roommate’s birthday is coming up, so we’re going to join forces and have another party.  If you go, be sure to take notes for me.

Day Fifteen (last saturday) $11

Last Saturday I ended up heading to the Blue Moon, which if you’ll recall, I’m not the biggest fan of. The bar is only a few blocks from where I work, and the main reason I went was not because I had friends waiting for me there, but because they were joined by one of our stranger (I’m being generous here) coworkers. Needless to say I was intrigued to see this guy out of work, and even more so after a couple of drinks in his system. I’m not sure how to describe this dude, other than to say he tries too hard. Way too hard (no, I’m making a sex joke). I got to the bar and immediately bought a pitcher of PBR, which ran me $11 with tip. I grabbed two glasses one for me and one for my bizarre colleague (my other friends were already working on a pitcher of their own). Alas, my strange unnamed coworker had to “drive home,” which I guess in some cultures is an excuse not to drink. In any case, my remaining friends and I polished off two more pitchers of PBR. I guess the bar isn’t so bad if you just stay in the beer garden and pretend you’re somewhere else.

So, $11 a pitcher, three pitchers split between three people is $11 each.

$426, yo.

Day Fourteen (last thursday) BIRTHDAY MONSTER $110

Did you think that little live post was my actual official really real birthday post?  No way, that was Wednesday night/Thursday morning, so really only technically my birthday.  I’ll get to the good shit in a second.

Really quick, if anyone is interested in understanding my life a little better, go ahead and check the comments on my about page.  One of my parental units posted some words there.  LOVE YOU MOMS!

Moving on.  I’m going to skip Sunday through Wednesday, because I didn’t drink that much and didn’t party too hard, so we’ll just say $10 (because there’s always beer in the fridge).  Thursday was my 23rd birthday (the same age Ian Curtis killed himself), and anyone whose anyone was just as scared as my liver was.  But that kind of scared where really you want to, but you just don’t want to look like a slut.  Before we went to my happy little dive, I met up with my girlfriend who had some very thoughtful gifts (thanks sweetie!), we got some pizza and drank some nice beers.  Then we went to the bar.

Five of us showed up to a crowded bar where about three or four friends were already waiting for us.  Because it was so crowded, my friends couldn’t see who was buying who drinks.  So I got a pint of Pabst and two generous shots of whiskey right off the bat.  Once the first round was acquired, we moved to the back to find a booth where we found more friends waiting.  We managed to get the biggest spot in the bar, and still were having trouble fitting us all in.  More people showed up, and more drinks appeared in front of me, usually with two shots at a time.  This is where I lose track.  On a normal night, I would have been sent to my room after one or two of the social crimes I committed that night.  But because the phrase ‘it’s my birthday!’ absolved me of pretty much anything, and I kept going.  I recall telling more than one person to ‘shut the fuck up’ while I was talking about the most asinine shit.  But it was fine: I was drunk, and everyone was laughing (I think).  I talked more shit than I should have about common acquaintances.  But it was my birthday!  And I don’t really hate you.  According to some accounts I disappeared for a while, possibly up to a half hour.  I expressed an interest in dancing, but only managed to bump into people.  I don’t remember all that much, most of this is what people have shared with me.

And from what I hear there was plenty more garbage that I had done that night, but I’m not particularly motivated to let the entire world wide web know exactly how much of an asshole I am when I’m blacked out.  You’ll have to just talk to me.  When I’m not blacked out.

Honestly, my total is not knowable.  So because it was my birthday, I’m going with $100.  Thank you, good night.

$415, bitches.  (I didn’t mean that).

Day Thirteen (last saturday) $20.50

I know I’m skipping last Friday.  That’s because I spent most of the night struggling with a cocktail my roommate made me with jalapeno rubbed around the rim.  Followed by a 22 of PBR to cool me down.  $4.

Saturday I surrounded myself with employees of a certain faux-liberal grocery chain that wont be named due to certain political issues regarding said chain (Whole Foods).  Before heading to the party, I downed a 22 of Pabst (I bought two on Friday).  $2.  My roommates brought along two 22′s of fancy beer (Chau Tien and Beer Guy Over The Top IPA), of which they said I drank $1 worth of each (that’s $2 for the K-12 readers).  Once those were done, we had to use the bathroom.  Apparently none of the other guests at the party don’t understand the simple rule of NOT SHITTING WHEN THERE’S ONLY ONE BATHROOM AT THE HOUSE PARTY.  ‘Those twenty people in line can wait; I’ve gotta check my facebook on my iPhone and I’m pretty sure there’s a peanut somewhere up near my colon that I can force out.’  Except it wasn’t a peanut.  It was a thousand peanuts from a hundred assholes, that eventually backed up the fucking toilet all the way to the brim.  So I pushed it just another milliliter or two.  I also didn’t feel any guilt when I stole beer from one of the supervisors.  At some point I heard him explain to one of my roommates that there were three kegs of PBR.  He said that all we had to do was pick them up at the liquor store on the corner.

…

After we drank about 4 or 5 of his beers ($5 – they were Olympia [it's the water]), we did end up going to the liquor store.  I was fading, so I decided to get a Sparks, and large flask of Jim Beam.  We went back, shared the flask between three or four of us, and that’s where it starts to get hazy.  There was some nice girl my roommates met that gave us more beer.  Then my roommate found a 40 (same roommate that threw a found drink only a few days before) that we all split.

With some shoddy math, we’ll say $20.50 was drunk by me all in all (with Friday).

$305 so far!  Only $695 till my first thousand.

FIRST LIVE POST (now) $15

It’s my birthday! It’s 3:32am, I’m drunk, and my new iPod touch (as cool as it is) wont let me post past a title.  Budweiser, Big Daddy IPA, and Gran’ Daddy Purple!  $8? Sure! Yeah!

I’ll total it tomorrow, or whenever I get to it.  It’s my birthday!

Oh, there was Jager, too.  $15.

UPDATE: Grand Total: $284.50

Day Twelve (last thursday) $32

I know, I know.  I’ve been so lazy about posting.  I also haven’t had a day off in five days and I spent most of that day cleaning my old apartment.  So bite me.  Real quick – last Wednesday, drank a couple of beers.  $3 or whatever.

Thursday.  Oh, Thursday.  Went into the city and met up with my girlfriend and a friend (read: no one was at their apartment when I showed up and I had to wait with a full bladder for ten minutes before my girlfriend strolled up).  We decided to go see a friend‘s band, Never Knows Best, at a leather daddy bar.  The leather daddies were nowhere to be found because of the show.  The first band was a terrible impression of a college-folk band: “Sure I know how to play violin!  Why don’t you sit on the floor and play the bells?  That’d sound great!”  No.  My buddy’s band went on next, and I’ve never heard six different melodies somehow syncopate so well.  That night was 2-for-1 well drinks (but not 2-for-1 $2 well drinks, as we somehow convinced ourselves it was).  We went with whiskey-ginger-ales, which were $11 a round, $13 with tip (two of us would get singles, and one lucky contestant got a double).  So, whatever $9.

Then, we went to go meet my roommates and some of their friends at a bar that’s a block and a half away from my girlfriend’s house.  They were all far more drunk than we were.  We got a pitcher of Trumer Pils, I think.  Who knows how much it cost, maybe $15?  $5 for me.  I think we got another pitcher.  Another $5.  There was a point, shortly before we left, when my roommate found a beer.  She managed to identify the ale almost immediately, and tried to use that to prove she wasn’t THAT drunk.  Somewhere in the next thirty seconds I thought she made a motion to pretend the throw the drink at me.  I dared her and threatened her in the same sentence.

Once I was thoroughly soaked, we went to pick up beer and Jager at the corner store and drink at home.  That was fun.  $10?

$32 all-in-all.  Also, my buddy gave me a new pair of pants since mine were too yeasty, so bonus.

$269.50 total.

My Birthday is in half an hour.

Day Eleven (last tuesday)/iPhone Review $25

Had two Miller Highlifes on Monday. $2.  Big Deal.  Let’s move on.

Tuesday night I was expecting to talk to my girlfriend about our plans for that evening.  She has an iPhone.  Here is my review of the iPhone:

The phone you can do anything with but receive fucking calls with.

That’s it.  When we were in the middle of nowhere driving across the country last year, and we needed to find a bar, you type ‘Bar’ into that little fucking thing and you know exactly how far you need to walk.  But if your mother is calling to say her last dying words from across the globe, there’s no fucking way you’ll get the call, or even the fucking voice mail.  AT&T, go fuck yourself.  You too Steve Jobs.

Anyway, I went to one bar to pick up a friend, but I didn’t have a beer there (because I hate that bar, fuck yourself too Blue Moon).  Stopped at home, picked up girlfriend (after many back-and-forths), and went to the R.R. to meet more friends for drinks.  Beer and whiskey.  I think I drank $23 worth of booze that night ($12 left over in the morning, $80 taken out of the bank, and $45 spent on… vegetables).  Nothing too exciting, except that my girlfriend recently got a landline at her apartment.

$25 (with Monday)

$237.50 all together.

Day Ten (last weekend) $7.50

I’m just going to lump together Saturday and Sunday, since I didn’t do too much on Sunday besides have maybe two Miller High Lifes [$1 each].  Didn’t expect me to start with Sunday, did you?  Well, it’s what I remember better since I got pretty drunk Saturday.  Bam! Do you see these transitions?  Segwaying like a motherfucker.  Anyway, I played some music with a friend Saturday night (oh yeah, drinking isn’t the only passion I have), which, needless to say, involved drinking.  Got a Six Pack of Big Daddy IPA (made by the wonderful Speakeasy Brewery) which we split between the two of us, and – combined with the fact that I had eaten once that day many hours before – got pretty drunk.  Those things cost about $11, making it $5.50 for me.  Then I drove my buddy home, and then my self home from his place.  Don’t worry – no motorcyclists were hurt during the making of that drive.  But their luck will run out soon enough…

$7.50 total for the weekend.

$212.50 total for the blog.