Weekends are always a treat
So Friday I was left with very little to do. My friends had all gone their separate ways...dates, visiting new born neices etc. But then Paul, a newer extremely platonic friend called and asked me to go to karaoke with him to see the girl that he liked. The bar that we went to was possibly one of the worst dive bars ever. They serve food, but it's in crock pots sitting on the bar!!! Literally, I'm watching this lady make a meatball sub on the bar. And apparently only I was appalled with the weird foods stored in tupperware contains randomly around the bar. Uggh.
After Paul got to speak with his lady friend I talked him into taking me to the FQB where I could see if Billy was around. He was. We chatted, neither of us mentioned the phone call or the lack thereof. We played some darts, had a few laughs and then drank entirely too much. At Last Call, Billy, myself and the other guy that we were playing darts with each bought a round of beer and shots. We stayed at the bar until about 3:30 (which is pretty much super illegal in Pennsylvania) and then they drove me home.
There was some drunken discussion of him staying over with me but he had to get up at 8 to help his sister (or someone) move. So we did the next best thing by making out against the other guy's car until we were told to quit it. I reluctantly went back into the car and Billy marched his hot little drunken ass inside the house (an aside: remember when Chelle hooked up with the skinhead--who for some reason seems like a rational human being (but obviously isn't)? That's Billy's roommate. How's that for six degrees of separation?) I went home and crashed.
The next day I felt like hell (as usual...I guess we should just call Saturday mornings Hell Day for me right??) But I rallied that night to go out with Chelle. I still felt shaky but I thought that I would be ok. I thought it best to get a turkey club and some french fries into my system as I hadn't eaten anything before I touched alcohol. Well everything was going ok...I nursed a Miller High Life (yeah I'm classy) for about two hours and then Chelle springs Red Bull and vodka shots on me. Again, felt a little weird but ok. Flash forward to 10pm. I run to the bathroom and throw up my turkey club. I go back to the bar to get some water and some gum and everything feels much better. I turned down the booze, smiling weakly but still soldier on at the bar because it looked like Chelle was hitting it off with one of my friends.
12 am. Chelle and Cr gang up on me and make me do another Red Bull depth charge shot. Within seconds I'm heading back to the bathroom to throw up. A girl says, "Wow, you must be wasted or something. " I reply, "No, I've had a beer and a half and two shots since 7pm...this is a prolonged hangover from last night." I look at the girl who accuses me of being wasted and see that she must've recently had sex in the parking lot because she has leaves in her hair. She gives me another snotty look and says, "Yeah right" to me and so I tell her, "By the way, you have leaves in your hair" and with that, I stormed out of the restroom as if I were classy and as if I hadn't just puked my guts out.
NO amount of cajoling could get me to take another sip of alcohol. I drank water for the rest of night and felt fine...except that my stomach was completely growling because it rebelled against the food I gave it. Finally, at two, after doing my friendly duty we brought some folks back to my house (I was hoping to go straight to bed) but I ended up hosting until about 3:30am. When I saw my male friend begin playing with Chelle's hair I excused myself and went upstairs, tossed a few condoms in the guest room (safe sex always people...that's my motto!) and finally got to go to sleep.
This morning Chelle was feeling a little hungover, a little guilty and slutty (silly girl...slutty is no way a girl should ever describe herself. You may sleep with anyone you like my dear!) but I think that it was perfect way to signify the end of the Co-Worker's hold on Chelle's heart (although, I don't really think that it is the end). Somehow, I get the feeling that Chelle hooking up with R, might've had something to do with the fact that the Co-Worker said he might call on Saturday night.
So that was the weekend in a nutshell. A little smooching, a lot of puking...it kind of left a little to be desired from a totally thrilling weekend. Fun, but I think I could've done without the minor alcohol poisoning, or whatever happened to me! Oh and it was a Derek-free weekend and that's never as fun as a Derek-full weekend. Especially since I'll be having tons of Derek-free weekends very shortly. 29 days and counting.
After Paul got to speak with his lady friend I talked him into taking me to the FQB where I could see if Billy was around. He was. We chatted, neither of us mentioned the phone call or the lack thereof. We played some darts, had a few laughs and then drank entirely too much. At Last Call, Billy, myself and the other guy that we were playing darts with each bought a round of beer and shots. We stayed at the bar until about 3:30 (which is pretty much super illegal in Pennsylvania) and then they drove me home.
There was some drunken discussion of him staying over with me but he had to get up at 8 to help his sister (or someone) move. So we did the next best thing by making out against the other guy's car until we were told to quit it. I reluctantly went back into the car and Billy marched his hot little drunken ass inside the house (an aside: remember when Chelle hooked up with the skinhead--who for some reason seems like a rational human being (but obviously isn't)? That's Billy's roommate. How's that for six degrees of separation?) I went home and crashed.
The next day I felt like hell (as usual...I guess we should just call Saturday mornings Hell Day for me right??) But I rallied that night to go out with Chelle. I still felt shaky but I thought that I would be ok. I thought it best to get a turkey club and some french fries into my system as I hadn't eaten anything before I touched alcohol. Well everything was going ok...I nursed a Miller High Life (yeah I'm classy) for about two hours and then Chelle springs Red Bull and vodka shots on me. Again, felt a little weird but ok. Flash forward to 10pm. I run to the bathroom and throw up my turkey club. I go back to the bar to get some water and some gum and everything feels much better. I turned down the booze, smiling weakly but still soldier on at the bar because it looked like Chelle was hitting it off with one of my friends.
12 am. Chelle and Cr gang up on me and make me do another Red Bull depth charge shot. Within seconds I'm heading back to the bathroom to throw up. A girl says, "Wow, you must be wasted or something. " I reply, "No, I've had a beer and a half and two shots since 7pm...this is a prolonged hangover from last night." I look at the girl who accuses me of being wasted and see that she must've recently had sex in the parking lot because she has leaves in her hair. She gives me another snotty look and says, "Yeah right" to me and so I tell her, "By the way, you have leaves in your hair" and with that, I stormed out of the restroom as if I were classy and as if I hadn't just puked my guts out.
NO amount of cajoling could get me to take another sip of alcohol. I drank water for the rest of night and felt fine...except that my stomach was completely growling because it rebelled against the food I gave it. Finally, at two, after doing my friendly duty we brought some folks back to my house (I was hoping to go straight to bed) but I ended up hosting until about 3:30am. When I saw my male friend begin playing with Chelle's hair I excused myself and went upstairs, tossed a few condoms in the guest room (safe sex always people...that's my motto!) and finally got to go to sleep.
This morning Chelle was feeling a little hungover, a little guilty and slutty (silly girl...slutty is no way a girl should ever describe herself. You may sleep with anyone you like my dear!) but I think that it was perfect way to signify the end of the Co-Worker's hold on Chelle's heart (although, I don't really think that it is the end). Somehow, I get the feeling that Chelle hooking up with R, might've had something to do with the fact that the Co-Worker said he might call on Saturday night.
So that was the weekend in a nutshell. A little smooching, a lot of puking...it kind of left a little to be desired from a totally thrilling weekend. Fun, but I think I could've done without the minor alcohol poisoning, or whatever happened to me! Oh and it was a Derek-free weekend and that's never as fun as a Derek-full weekend. Especially since I'll be having tons of Derek-free weekends very shortly. 29 days and counting.
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