Amusing Drunk Story
I wanted to update yesterday, but I've been a bit busy as of late. I know that my grades will suffer for this, but writing is a passion I just cannot deny.
Written October 1st, 2004
Late last night, Steve and I had to carry Brian back to our place. Oh, I had a blast... yeah.
Every Thursday night, our house goes to Hemingways for $2.50 Long Island Iced Teas or $1 Miller Lite drafts. After learning my lesson a few weeks back, I've decided to just stick with beer at the bar. Now, the night I'm speaking of in this entry wasn't exactly a heavy drinking night; Steve and I had two beers because we were just chilling. However, Brian had decided sometime in the evening that he was going to drink 7 Long Islands... in two hours. The last time I had even 2 Long Islands in an hour didn't exactly make my night; the results weren't disastrous, but I was definitely hammered. Now, Brian might be about twice my weight, but 7 was too much. So after Brian killed #7, we went over to The O for fries, and by we, I mean Steve, Brian, Kelly, Jess (I think those were the names of the girls), and myself. After a half-hour of eating fries, wearing Brian's glasses, and chatting with Kelly (Brian's cute lab partner), we decided to get out and go home. Well, it wasn't as simple as that.
But I left out an important detail: Brian was fucked up. For the entire time we were at The O, he rested his head on the table, mumbled about whatever, and wouldn't drink any water we gave him. After discussing it outside, we decided that Brian should come back to our house because Jess (I swear this girl's chin came out further than her nose) didn't want puke in her van. Well speak of the devil! As soon as Kelly and Jess walked around the corner, Brian proceeds to puke all over the sidewalk many times. Now, keep in mind that it's a late Thursday night and there are plenty of people walking all over the sidewalks of Oakland; pedestrians are barely dodging Brian's spew. A nice panhandler (that sounds like an oxymoron) walked inside The O and got Brian some napkins; Steve later commented that he wished that he had had change to give the guy, and this is coming from someone that only gives 50ยข to beggars every semester. After wiping puke off of him, we had a fun time walking the 5 blocks home, trying to keep the cops from suspecting anything (but it isn't like Oakland cops are going to do anything).
But Steve is Steve, and the night was Thursday, and Thursday night is trash night. As soon as he saw our house, the first words out of his mouth are, "Yo Brian, feel like moving our trash to the curb?" Bad move. Brian basically sat on our hot neighbors' (Kristin, Mandy, Meg, Heather, and Kate) porch steps for the next 20 minutes. Then getting him up afterwards was a pain in the ass, but the fun part was trying to get him up our stairs. As soon as he flopped down in the living room couch, he was dead asleep. I spoke to Steve about our hot neighbors (I'll have to put up some pictures of them sometime), and then I went back to my room to play some more Homeworld 2.
Now the funny part was a half-hour later when Dave and Chris came back from Duquesne. Steve rushed into m room laughing like a jackal and told me to come downstairs. I hurry on downstairs to find Brian still passed out but with marker all over him (as it would turn out, the marker wasn't permanent, but you wouldn't know if you saw the pictures). I ran upstairs, grabbed my camera, practically fell down the steps on my way back down, hoping that Brian wouldn't wake up anytime soon. I got three pictures (the first had no flash) of a penis on his forehead and legs, a Hitler mustache, and something written on his leg. It was a moment to remember.
I later found out, after talking with JD and Koop, that Brian had moved around in the living room about three times. I never found out why, only that he scared the shit out of Koop because of his positioning and that JD found him in a chair with his head cocked at an impossibly uncomfortable position.
Okay, not a great story, but it makes for good party conversation. As sick as this sounds, what would've made for a great party conversation would've been if Brian had died of alcohol poisoning and Dave and Chris used permanent marker on him; I'm sure they would've been scarred for life with the weight of a dead friend on their conscious. One can only imagine...
Written October 1st, 2004
Late last night, Steve and I had to carry Brian back to our place. Oh, I had a blast... yeah.
Every Thursday night, our house goes to Hemingways for $2.50 Long Island Iced Teas or $1 Miller Lite drafts. After learning my lesson a few weeks back, I've decided to just stick with beer at the bar. Now, the night I'm speaking of in this entry wasn't exactly a heavy drinking night; Steve and I had two beers because we were just chilling. However, Brian had decided sometime in the evening that he was going to drink 7 Long Islands... in two hours. The last time I had even 2 Long Islands in an hour didn't exactly make my night; the results weren't disastrous, but I was definitely hammered. Now, Brian might be about twice my weight, but 7 was too much. So after Brian killed #7, we went over to The O for fries, and by we, I mean Steve, Brian, Kelly, Jess (I think those were the names of the girls), and myself. After a half-hour of eating fries, wearing Brian's glasses, and chatting with Kelly (Brian's cute lab partner), we decided to get out and go home. Well, it wasn't as simple as that.
But I left out an important detail: Brian was fucked up. For the entire time we were at The O, he rested his head on the table, mumbled about whatever, and wouldn't drink any water we gave him. After discussing it outside, we decided that Brian should come back to our house because Jess (I swear this girl's chin came out further than her nose) didn't want puke in her van. Well speak of the devil! As soon as Kelly and Jess walked around the corner, Brian proceeds to puke all over the sidewalk many times. Now, keep in mind that it's a late Thursday night and there are plenty of people walking all over the sidewalks of Oakland; pedestrians are barely dodging Brian's spew. A nice panhandler (that sounds like an oxymoron) walked inside The O and got Brian some napkins; Steve later commented that he wished that he had had change to give the guy, and this is coming from someone that only gives 50ยข to beggars every semester. After wiping puke off of him, we had a fun time walking the 5 blocks home, trying to keep the cops from suspecting anything (but it isn't like Oakland cops are going to do anything).
But Steve is Steve, and the night was Thursday, and Thursday night is trash night. As soon as he saw our house, the first words out of his mouth are, "Yo Brian, feel like moving our trash to the curb?" Bad move. Brian basically sat on our hot neighbors' (Kristin, Mandy, Meg, Heather, and Kate) porch steps for the next 20 minutes. Then getting him up afterwards was a pain in the ass, but the fun part was trying to get him up our stairs. As soon as he flopped down in the living room couch, he was dead asleep. I spoke to Steve about our hot neighbors (I'll have to put up some pictures of them sometime), and then I went back to my room to play some more Homeworld 2.
Now the funny part was a half-hour later when Dave and Chris came back from Duquesne. Steve rushed into m room laughing like a jackal and told me to come downstairs. I hurry on downstairs to find Brian still passed out but with marker all over him (as it would turn out, the marker wasn't permanent, but you wouldn't know if you saw the pictures). I ran upstairs, grabbed my camera, practically fell down the steps on my way back down, hoping that Brian wouldn't wake up anytime soon. I got three pictures (the first had no flash) of a penis on his forehead and legs, a Hitler mustache, and something written on his leg. It was a moment to remember.
I later found out, after talking with JD and Koop, that Brian had moved around in the living room about three times. I never found out why, only that he scared the shit out of Koop because of his positioning and that JD found him in a chair with his head cocked at an impossibly uncomfortable position.
Okay, not a great story, but it makes for good party conversation. As sick as this sounds, what would've made for a great party conversation would've been if Brian had died of alcohol poisoning and Dave and Chris used permanent marker on him; I'm sure they would've been scarred for life with the weight of a dead friend on their conscious. One can only imagine...
posted by Eric Joseph at 10:11 PM
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