My Weekend has a First Name, it's D-R-U-N-K
When it comes to going out at night, people quickly come to realize that I never actually state my intentions to break the retard barrier in record times. I tend to speak in various non-specific code phrases. They're pretty easy, so I'll break them down here into two separate categories: What I said and what I really meant.
What I said: "I might come out. But only for a little while."
What I really meant: "Whatever doesn't kill my liver tonight will only make it stronger, right guys!"
What I said: "I'll probably just chill at home tonight."
What I really meant: "If you guys are still around later, I'll come out and drink until I at least start a breakdance fight with a random stranger."
What I said: "..."
What I meant: "If you fucking call me one more time, my liver will personally come over and give you sexually transmitted alcohol poisoning!"
Last weekend was some kind of bastard mix of all three of those.
Friday: Went to a club on the upper west side. To the working class or non-New Yorker, that means it's full of a bunch of dickheads. They were playing bomb-ass booty shakin' music, but I soon found out that you were only allowed to dance downstairs. Once I got down there, I decided there must have been some kind of mistake, because the music was terminally lame. I thought it was hilarious when my drunk girlfriend went over to the DJ to request some better music and bumped his table which, in my opinion, helped him more than he'll ever know. After that we went back upstairs and danced specifically under the "No Dancing" sign. Look out Law, I'm comin' for you HARD.
The highlight of the night was when some dipshit frat boy didn't realize that the cute girl I was standing next to was with me and started hitting on her. When I heard him say "...I'm only digits away from here" while rubbing her back, I felt obligated to lean in and say "Man, that would have been fucking gay even if you weren't hitting on my girlfriend! Arf!"
Saturday: I met up with my old friend doineanta. I was surely and mean from the night before, so I basically spent the whole time looking for someone to pic a fight with.
After that I jumped into a doorway to another world where I hooked up with waxangel in a tiny bar filled with mostly dudes that could probably teach me a thing or two about dying in any hand-to-hand combat situaiton that I could think up in my head, including the one that takes place on tiny chunks of rock floating in a river of lava. It was at this bar that a wily old man looking strikingly similar to Doc Brown from Back to the Future decided he would like to fuck us. He chose to express this feeling by purchasing us booze. I was immediately enlightened with the overpowering feeling of having a sugar daddy. I mean, think about it! This guy gets by on thinking that there's a glimmering chance in Hell that one of us will fuck him, if only he buys us one more drink! I could've done that all night as long as I remembered not to cringe away from him every time he let out a jolly laugh while patting my back...for an uncomfortably long amount of time.
Sunday: Sunday was the craziest night of them all, because Sunday, something happened to me that has never happened to any man anywhere: a girl hit on me while I was riding the train. We were sitting there next to each other in silence for a little while when she finally turned to me and said "Do you want to hear my favorite song?" It was cute until I later found out that she totally stole that from Garden State. I'm glad I hadn't seen it yet because I don't know if I could have kept my cool against something that awesome. Anyway, the song ended up being Depeche Mode's Enjoy the Silence which yes, was very cute and appropriate and would have been more romantic if I hadn't been on my way to annihilate the microphone with my finest kareoke rendition of Me So Horny.
END
When it comes to going out at night, people quickly come to realize that I never actually state my intentions to break the retard barrier in record times. I tend to speak in various non-specific code phrases. They're pretty easy, so I'll break them down here into two separate categories: What I said and what I really meant.
What I said: "I might come out. But only for a little while."
What I really meant: "Whatever doesn't kill my liver tonight will only make it stronger, right guys!"
What I said: "I'll probably just chill at home tonight."
What I really meant: "If you guys are still around later, I'll come out and drink until I at least start a breakdance fight with a random stranger."
What I said: "..."
What I meant: "If you fucking call me one more time, my liver will personally come over and give you sexually transmitted alcohol poisoning!"
Last weekend was some kind of bastard mix of all three of those.
Friday: Went to a club on the upper west side. To the working class or non-New Yorker, that means it's full of a bunch of dickheads. They were playing bomb-ass booty shakin' music, but I soon found out that you were only allowed to dance downstairs. Once I got down there, I decided there must have been some kind of mistake, because the music was terminally lame. I thought it was hilarious when my drunk girlfriend went over to the DJ to request some better music and bumped his table which, in my opinion, helped him more than he'll ever know. After that we went back upstairs and danced specifically under the "No Dancing" sign. Look out Law, I'm comin' for you HARD.
The highlight of the night was when some dipshit frat boy didn't realize that the cute girl I was standing next to was with me and started hitting on her. When I heard him say "...I'm only digits away from here" while rubbing her back, I felt obligated to lean in and say "Man, that would have been fucking gay even if you weren't hitting on my girlfriend! Arf!"
Saturday: I met up with my old friend doineanta. I was surely and mean from the night before, so I basically spent the whole time looking for someone to pic a fight with.
After that I jumped into a doorway to another world where I hooked up with waxangel in a tiny bar filled with mostly dudes that could probably teach me a thing or two about dying in any hand-to-hand combat situaiton that I could think up in my head, including the one that takes place on tiny chunks of rock floating in a river of lava. It was at this bar that a wily old man looking strikingly similar to Doc Brown from Back to the Future decided he would like to fuck us. He chose to express this feeling by purchasing us booze. I was immediately enlightened with the overpowering feeling of having a sugar daddy. I mean, think about it! This guy gets by on thinking that there's a glimmering chance in Hell that one of us will fuck him, if only he buys us one more drink! I could've done that all night as long as I remembered not to cringe away from him every time he let out a jolly laugh while patting my back...for an uncomfortably long amount of time.
Sunday: Sunday was the craziest night of them all, because Sunday, something happened to me that has never happened to any man anywhere: a girl hit on me while I was riding the train. We were sitting there next to each other in silence for a little while when she finally turned to me and said "Do you want to hear my favorite song?" It was cute until I later found out that she totally stole that from Garden State. I'm glad I hadn't seen it yet because I don't know if I could have kept my cool against something that awesome. Anyway, the song ended up being Depeche Mode's Enjoy the Silence which yes, was very cute and appropriate and would have been more romantic if I hadn't been on my way to annihilate the microphone with my finest kareoke rendition of Me So Horny.
END
VIEW 25 of 47 COMMENTS
people will always yell at you, even if what they're screaming is what you've just told them.
i am not a pee pee pants, homo.