"I've scooped up much worse shit than poop." - Sean
So that's how it's done. I remember now.
I'm a few days behind schedule, but I wanted to write a little bit about last weekend, if I may. (and I may, since it's my blog). Let me begin by saying that I did not have high hopes for this weekend, for a couple reasons. First of all, I've sort of been taking it easy in the partying department for the better part of a month or two..sometimes on purpose because I've just felt like it, and other times where I've tried my best to get blitzed, but was unsuccessful for whatever reason, thus leaving me to spend $100 at the pub, only to return remarkably sober to sit alone in my townhouse at 1 a.m. with a Diet Pepsi, a sandwich and unfulfilled dreams of drunkeness and debauchery.
I figured this weekend would be much the same, which leads me to point No. 2 - I had to work Friday night for a few hours, beginning at 7:30, which left me absent during prime drinking hours. It also meant I wouldn't be able to pound back a few pre-drinks in the dinner-time hour. So it wasn't looking good. Advantage: Liver.
Normally I wouldn't have been too devastated because, like I said, I haven't always felt like drinking lately, and I was actuallyl looking forward (slightly) to the hoops game I would be attending. However, on this particular Friday I was in a drinking mood the likes of which my body hadn't felt since New Year's, and possibly even before that.
I felt like getting pisssssssssssssed.
So I did what pre-2007 Nick would've done. I skipped out of half the game, bought a hot dog on the way out the gym door, picked up 3 energy drinks and a bottle of vodka, and went to my parent's house, where everyone was. It felt like ages since we'd all gathered in somebody's house for a legitimate 'stay-there-all-night-with-no-other-plans' house party.
Being that I was a few hours behind the other drinkers (Looking at you, Amanda), I started off making some pretty strong drinks, and soon was as tanked as the rest of the team. Then it was drunken charades ("It's all gone, Pete Tong"? Seriously Scott?), darts, drinking games, and poker until the wee hours. Advantage: Nick.
After poker wrapped up, I stuck my near-gone 26 of vodka back in the freezer, and poked my head out the front door, only to have the paper delivery guy hand me the Saturday morning edition.
It was 5 a.m. For some, that's a fairly regular occurence, but since I rarely stay up for late night poker (usually on account of me not living super close anymore), it was a accomplishment for me.
And I was pretty damn happy with myself, as I cleaned up a bit, turned the lights off and went to bed. Pretty damn happy, indeed.
Like a boxer stepping back into the ring despite being - arguably - past his prime, for one night it was good to be back in fighting shape.
(Click the link. See how I managed to tie current events into a post about getting blurry-eyed drunk? That's just how awesome I am.)
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