OK, so since I actually work in a job, and since I’m not a full-time publisher of words and sentences about drinking and pushing people on the ground like other people out there, I decided to jump on the first suggestion that presented itself to me, which is to put up a bunch of pictures and let God sort the whole fucking thing out. I sincerely hope that by viewing these pictures, a warm, smiling feeling is generated below your navel but to the left of your appendix. I could probably write a book about each one of these pictures, but I’ll simply write a small caption and let you wahoos fill in the blanks. Then I’ll steal your blank-fillers and create a post worthy of archive in the goddamned Smithsonian.
One thing for those of you who don’t know. That fishbowl that some people are holding in some pictures is basically a gigantic Long Island Ice Tea. It’s about 9 different liquors poured into an actual fishbowl. Then people drink out of it. Looking back, how do people’s livers not spontaneously fall out of there bodies on contact with such a device? We’ll leave that one to God as well. And speaking of God, he makes a reappearence on the Sunday night post, so stay the fuck tuned for that one.
And now, on with the show:
Before we get started, for all those people who said my brother would never go anywhere as a drinker because he used to only drink Smirnoff Ice…
You were wrong. Now all we have to do is get him to drive on the highway.
This is us leaving the hotel to go out on Friday night. I thought my camera was a broke-dick dog, but it turned out Wisconsin really looks like this.
We renamed my brother The Don, as that is what he looked like guarding the door to our VIP room at the Irish Pub. He passed out cigars on the way to the bars, and we had a lot of fun waving them menacingly, smoking them, or just plain chomping on them.
Judd, Me, cigars, and MGD-Light-In-A-Can upstairs at Irish Pub. Life don’t get any better than this.
After the Irish Pub we headed over to The Plaza, where a few things happened. I’m only giong to tell you one of those things: we met Anne Chernik, who is now a waitress there. Other than that, Wirkus, Sean, and I all took a picture.
Casperson proposed to me at The Pub. Also, I bought 5 pitchers of beer for $24. Eat that, California. I hope you choke on it.
Bellgirl attempted to get a leg up on the competition by using her cleavage as a distraction in the air hockey game. I don’t know whether it worked or not, but here’s some cleavage.
After The Pub we headed over to Wando’s for some hot fishbowl action. Not knowing that Casperson was using his hook-up to buy one that was 20 gallons of straight alcohol, Madd Scientist bought his own. So, since we had a shit-house of liquor, we had drinking contests where you and another person stick a straw in there and whoever taps out first is the loser. My brother one a few to start with, then Casperson roared onto the scene and pretty much won.
This is the result of Madd and Scott’s macking at Wando’s. They ended up face-to-face with chicks in a drink.
Finished the Pre-Party Party at Brother’s. Hoo-boy, that place sucks these days. I mean, before it had a certain atmosphere, and that atmosphere never left. But it used to be a pretty certain place to go and just dance with some chick to hip-hop. I mean, this is the first place I ever heard Ride Wit Me. Now, however, it’s mostly rock, country, and shit. And then they played Ignition by R. Kelly. Not the funnest place on earth; strongest reccomendation to avoid.