Well my goal of "knocking the bastard off" that is my essay is running out of weekend time, but in all fairness I've drunk a lot this weekend.
Friday saw me driving the sh0rt distance to where I used to live, then drinking three doors down. I was outraged by the size of the rooms. They're bigger than ours and certainly better houses than 45 used to be (they've fixed it up since I lived there). We went to town after telling people I wasn't going to drive them after six beers and yes I don't look drunk because I'm not American. I can keep my shit together. Seriously, young Americans drinking together is a scary sight at times. Besides, when does the driver have to resist others from drunk driving? Shouldn't they be stopping me?
In town we went to some private party. The guy checks IDs and I say "seriously?" he says "yes" I pull it out and he lets me in, despite being in my hand and not being able to get a good look at it. Whatever. The private party I assume is winding down, seeing as I don't know these young Americans and have no real desire to do so at this time, I'm much more content playing Jack in pool with a beer. I lose. We leave and catch up to the others who have stayed a total of less than ten minutes.
I bring Jack to the new rendezvous point and see that Doug, my flat mate, is riding the slippery train to blackoutville. During another game of pool he is talked to by security. The dopey look he gets when drunk gets him thrown out. Game is shortly abandoned. Walking him home was like taking a seven year old with aspirations for the Special Olympics. He would run in 'S' curves and go the wrong way, run ahead and the little guy fell down, count it, three times, one of which was when he wanted a piggy back. Quite the tangle. He makes it home and we hang out next door. I come check on him and he's in his robe and lying with his feet on the floor and the wrong way on his bed. He doesn't want water or anything I can provide so I say goodnight and go next door. I find out the next day he pissed on a stack of his own t-shirts.
Saturday was spent retrieving my car, sleeping and more drinking. Me and Zach went to a bar to watch the semi final. I was amazed we scored the first try off a Dan Carter error. Infallible he is not. Still the second half went as predicted, excluding the last 6 minutes were we scored consolation points. I got a consolation Big Mac. I remember $5 getting a Big Mac Combo as a kid, not 10c change for the burger. We get home and chill, eat some more, thinking it was night over, but no. Next door they're drinking so we go there and drink some more, I got a little better at flip cup and concluded a decent weekend.
Well it's only Sunday and the reason I didn't do work yesterday was the law library opened early and closed early, today it opens at 1 and is open till 8. So I plan to use it well, thus making this weekend fun and productive.
Friday saw me driving the sh0rt distance to where I used to live, then drinking three doors down. I was outraged by the size of the rooms. They're bigger than ours and certainly better houses than 45 used to be (they've fixed it up since I lived there). We went to town after telling people I wasn't going to drive them after six beers and yes I don't look drunk because I'm not American. I can keep my shit together. Seriously, young Americans drinking together is a scary sight at times. Besides, when does the driver have to resist others from drunk driving? Shouldn't they be stopping me?
In town we went to some private party. The guy checks IDs and I say "seriously?" he says "yes" I pull it out and he lets me in, despite being in my hand and not being able to get a good look at it. Whatever. The private party I assume is winding down, seeing as I don't know these young Americans and have no real desire to do so at this time, I'm much more content playing Jack in pool with a beer. I lose. We leave and catch up to the others who have stayed a total of less than ten minutes.
I bring Jack to the new rendezvous point and see that Doug, my flat mate, is riding the slippery train to blackoutville. During another game of pool he is talked to by security. The dopey look he gets when drunk gets him thrown out. Game is shortly abandoned. Walking him home was like taking a seven year old with aspirations for the Special Olympics. He would run in 'S' curves and go the wrong way, run ahead and the little guy fell down, count it, three times, one of which was when he wanted a piggy back. Quite the tangle. He makes it home and we hang out next door. I come check on him and he's in his robe and lying with his feet on the floor and the wrong way on his bed. He doesn't want water or anything I can provide so I say goodnight and go next door. I find out the next day he pissed on a stack of his own t-shirts.
Saturday was spent retrieving my car, sleeping and more drinking. Me and Zach went to a bar to watch the semi final. I was amazed we scored the first try off a Dan Carter error. Infallible he is not. Still the second half went as predicted, excluding the last 6 minutes were we scored consolation points. I got a consolation Big Mac. I remember $5 getting a Big Mac Combo as a kid, not 10c change for the burger. We get home and chill, eat some more, thinking it was night over, but no. Next door they're drinking so we go there and drink some more, I got a little better at flip cup and concluded a decent weekend.
Well it's only Sunday and the reason I didn't do work yesterday was the law library opened early and closed early, today it opens at 1 and is open till 8. So I plan to use it well, thus making this weekend fun and productive.
