Coming to you live from Easter dinner, while I wait for three vacations worth of photos to print nearby.
carla has demanded I tell you the tale of last night's shenanegins, a tale of drunken revelry that can only be called... Boy's Night.
The cast of this tale is myself, Mr. B, AC, and some of AC's compatriots from the Olive Garden, referred to here as Shakey and the Limey.
We began off schedule, but it was generally understood that this would be the case: how likely is it, really, that we would gather the hoard together at noon on Saturday? AC and I finally met up at Boston Pizza, as we do, just after noon. Around 2 we arrived at Shakey's place, where we popped in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas while we awaited, as it turned out, just the Limey. A few other OG people had been anticipated, but had pulled out. Mr B had to do some actual work to make sure his rent cheque didn't bounce, and would be joining us later. AC expressed his hope that by the end of the night we would be repeating Johnny Depp's quote, "the danger of total physical and mental collapse is now quite real."
Step one was to get drinks and nachos at Schanks, while competing at activities involving long sticks as men do. While AC had the edge at pool, I ultimately triumphed at mini-golf. Yay me!
Step two: after a pause at Shakey's place to grab some more drinks (you will begin to notice a theme here) and ditch the car, we set out on a mission: sneak into the Flames game. Meeting Mr B outside the Saddledome (after a few snowball incidents on the way there), we assessed our target, found an entry vector, and employed some serious ninja skills to sneak in undetected.
Actually we found a gap in the sorry excuse for a barricade then strolled into the building like we owned the place.
Once in, Mr B, AC and I payed a visit to Michele, who was watching the game legitimately. While I was finding her, Mr B managed to convince an usher to let us get a picture of Mr B in his green usher jacket. This then became a challenge: Mr B and I circumnavigated the Saddledome seeking ushers willing to swap jackets for a photo. We managed an even dozen, plus one shot with Harvey the Hound. For those interested, the results of this quest can be found at my Facebook site. I may post a link later.
While we were on this quest, there was good news and bad news for AC, Shakey, and the Limey. The good? They managed to... acquire some Flames merch. The bad? They got made by security. As such, the far more ninja-like Mr B and I caught up with them at the Stampede Casino.
Not much to report there except I'm kind of glad I stopped playing blackjack before I'd bet the whole hundred dollars.
Stage three: Amsterdam Rhino, were an Olive Garden girl was having a birthday. This was where the serious drinking began, and swiftly too. Four rounds of shots in rapid succession. As a special bonus, on the way to the Rhino we came across Sean B, one of our regular actors. The only thing funnier than Sean on stage is Sean drunk and uppity, so we swiftly added him to our numbers. Once the shots were downed, we made a decision: money was running low, but there was alcohol a-plenty at my place which happened to be right nearby by. Hence...
Final stage: drunken Mario Party. Says it all right there, does it not? While AC was, sadly, triumphant, it was still a good time.
I finally collapsed at some point around five. This wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't woken up at 8:30, too tired to move yet unable to get back to sleep. This did my morning-after pain no favours at all.
But now I recover. I am filled with turkey and fighting further collapse while my pictures print agonizingly slowly. If further notable details of Boy's Night resurface, I may share them. I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything tragically embarassing, which is always a positive. Well, no more embarassing than I usually do while savagely drunk, tired, and easily amused.
"Let us never speak of this so-called 'instant pudding' again."
-Bucky Katt
carla has demanded I tell you the tale of last night's shenanegins, a tale of drunken revelry that can only be called... Boy's Night.
The cast of this tale is myself, Mr. B, AC, and some of AC's compatriots from the Olive Garden, referred to here as Shakey and the Limey.
We began off schedule, but it was generally understood that this would be the case: how likely is it, really, that we would gather the hoard together at noon on Saturday? AC and I finally met up at Boston Pizza, as we do, just after noon. Around 2 we arrived at Shakey's place, where we popped in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas while we awaited, as it turned out, just the Limey. A few other OG people had been anticipated, but had pulled out. Mr B had to do some actual work to make sure his rent cheque didn't bounce, and would be joining us later. AC expressed his hope that by the end of the night we would be repeating Johnny Depp's quote, "the danger of total physical and mental collapse is now quite real."
Step one was to get drinks and nachos at Schanks, while competing at activities involving long sticks as men do. While AC had the edge at pool, I ultimately triumphed at mini-golf. Yay me!
Step two: after a pause at Shakey's place to grab some more drinks (you will begin to notice a theme here) and ditch the car, we set out on a mission: sneak into the Flames game. Meeting Mr B outside the Saddledome (after a few snowball incidents on the way there), we assessed our target, found an entry vector, and employed some serious ninja skills to sneak in undetected.
Actually we found a gap in the sorry excuse for a barricade then strolled into the building like we owned the place.
Once in, Mr B, AC and I payed a visit to Michele, who was watching the game legitimately. While I was finding her, Mr B managed to convince an usher to let us get a picture of Mr B in his green usher jacket. This then became a challenge: Mr B and I circumnavigated the Saddledome seeking ushers willing to swap jackets for a photo. We managed an even dozen, plus one shot with Harvey the Hound. For those interested, the results of this quest can be found at my Facebook site. I may post a link later.
While we were on this quest, there was good news and bad news for AC, Shakey, and the Limey. The good? They managed to... acquire some Flames merch. The bad? They got made by security. As such, the far more ninja-like Mr B and I caught up with them at the Stampede Casino.
Not much to report there except I'm kind of glad I stopped playing blackjack before I'd bet the whole hundred dollars.
Stage three: Amsterdam Rhino, were an Olive Garden girl was having a birthday. This was where the serious drinking began, and swiftly too. Four rounds of shots in rapid succession. As a special bonus, on the way to the Rhino we came across Sean B, one of our regular actors. The only thing funnier than Sean on stage is Sean drunk and uppity, so we swiftly added him to our numbers. Once the shots were downed, we made a decision: money was running low, but there was alcohol a-plenty at my place which happened to be right nearby by. Hence...
Final stage: drunken Mario Party. Says it all right there, does it not? While AC was, sadly, triumphant, it was still a good time.
I finally collapsed at some point around five. This wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't woken up at 8:30, too tired to move yet unable to get back to sleep. This did my morning-after pain no favours at all.
But now I recover. I am filled with turkey and fighting further collapse while my pictures print agonizingly slowly. If further notable details of Boy's Night resurface, I may share them. I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything tragically embarassing, which is always a positive. Well, no more embarassing than I usually do while savagely drunk, tired, and easily amused.
"Let us never speak of this so-called 'instant pudding' again."
-Bucky Katt
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
I love drunken mario party.