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No beer on weekends

08:20 25th May 2009 by
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I love beer. But it really fills me up and I have to drink a lot of it to get really drunk but then I feel really full and lazy which it’s not as fun. Therefore, I have enacted a personal “No Beer On Weekends” – Policy a couple years ago. I disobey it at times, but I try to stick with it as much as I can. Which sometimes ends up a little nasty…

So this British Columbian Stitch-Face by the name of Max Ritchie is turning grey and old and he decided to have a Kegger-BBQ. I brought vegetables and salad, that got forgotten about as soon as the booze started flowing. Which was immediately upon my arrival. The time of the week was a Saturday, so the policy was in full effect with a bottle of Canadian Cinnamon Juice aka Fireball. I heard to become Canadian you have to drink a lot of it. So I did. Cinnamoned myself right into the Black zone. That’s where you can find me on a Saturday night. I even have a toothbrush there now.

Luckily my sub-conscious makes great decisions while I’m in my Saturday night happy place. I supposedly threw the empty Fireball bottle (thanks for cleaning up the mess, friends), had some serious talks about unresolved issues, rolled joints (now I really don’t believe that one), smoked them (no way!) and fell over backwards into bushes (some extensive detective work the next day revealed it by matching up broken branches to the scratches on my back).

At least I didn’t get in any fights or break my foot (right, Jill Gwilliam?!)… But there still are some bruises unaccounted for so who knows. I look pretty funny naked to say the least.

I feel kinda bad for Max. I hope he had fun. If I had that party at my place I would be a bit nervous… Either way, Jill pretty much killed it. Falling down the stairs she hurt her ankle, which swell up to the size of… well, a broken foot?! To get home we only had to walk up Bayshores Hill but Jill was in pain and the boys were telling her to suck it up and walk home. She couldn’t fall asleep until she smoked my secret stash (the real stash had gone up in flames in the back of a pick-up).

Sunday morning at the hospital. Still a little drunk. X-rays, wheelchairs, boys with peanut allergies. Then the Doctor told Jill that her foot was broken. Intense. Then my truck broke down and we pretty much ditched it for Cesar’s. Victoria day long weekend, Fireball and Cesar’s – I think I got some Canadian in me…

Sorry for Partying…

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