So we roll out the door and head to the next bar. The first thing we do upon arrival is order shots. Then another round of shots. And that is all I remember, aside from the dirty look from the bartender as he realized I am falling-down-drunk. Well not exactly at this point but soon after, as I was informed on Saturday that I had indeed fallen down. Twice. At the bar. In front of everybody. Somehow I made it home – and no, I didn’t drive, so fuck off.
Normally I wouldn’t return to the very bar I was cut-off from the previous night. But since I blacked out and had no idea I’d fallen down I was unaware of my transgressions. So for the next hour or so the bar staff had the unexpected joy of ripping me to shreds for being such an idiotic drunk the night before. I deserved it, but denied any accountability and eased into some modest beer drinking the rest of the night. That is until our group (Lord von Lord, King Randall The Insufferable, Tag B, and others) were set upon by the youth faction at our bar talking shit. Then he stepped in it by challenging us to a drinking contest. We’ll get into this more when the time is right, but for now we’re all licking our chops waiting for the opportunity to drink these pussies under the table. I envision it something like this:
But it will more likely be something like this:
Sunday was mild for the second week in a row. Early evening drinks at Tags. Then went out for just a couple more to send LVL on his way to Hawaii, which I’m sure we’ll all have to hear about over and over after he returns. Of course KRTI was there so we had to do some shots, Jager this time. Then again. You see how this goes…