Day Drinking and the Art of 'Slutting it Out"

After mailing out a letter I went above to my friends apartment where he asked the following question.

"Hey, we are going to the pool. Do you want to go?"

Like everything, you gotta read the fine print. Do you want to go to the pool really means do you want to stop at 7-11 pick up Coors Lite, start drinking in the sun and pretty much ensure an idiotic adventure complete with topless walking, skin tight wife beaters, flip cup, and the old switch on - switch off public display of affection. YES. Nights like this happen because of days like this. Day Drinking and Slutting Out are siblings...Not rivals mind you for they get along great. Getting them together guarantees just one thing. The morning after roll over where you look at the clock and mutter "Jesus Christ." It's amazing how versatile those two words are...And YES, I am Jewish...And NO, that has nothing to do with anything.

Details you ask? Well here we go:

After knocking back what I deem enough alcohol to get me light on my feet I retired to my humble abode. Changed 'sans' shower and went to the surprise party because day drinking is not something you half-ass. You don't have a couple and then chill. Well you might but you are not the 26 year old I am. You probaly have what doctors call 'control,' 'will power' and 'good decision making abilities.' But I killed off those words from my immune system years ago.

I am very 'coincidence' minded. My friend and I have coined this phrase. Examples: "Can you believe we are going to be in NY partying the same weekend our best friend is getting married in NY?" Or, "Wow, I went on a 6 day vacation out west the same week my boss was out there meeting the client." See where I am going with this one. Basically, the same day I was celebrating a solid day drinking excursion and polygamy, my friend Bill was coming back into town for a two keg throw down...I know, what a coincidence. NOTE: I realize I am not in college.

I blinked my eyes and day drinking turned to night drinking. I decided my next destination needed to be more dynamic for I was Social and needed the ears of the public.

As I arrived at the doors of Caseys on Central in pants and shoes, I asked the doorman if I had 'finally found that topless bar I'd been looking for." Shockingly enough it WAS not a topless bar. Apparently, the 26 people I asked on the way to the bar did not know of a topless bar I would most definitely of fit in at. He explained that it was not and I put on my garb of choice...Skin tight wife beater with a Chinese symbol on the front...I could have been the Mayor of Thorton Park!

Casey's was about as much fun as a dead baby so I quickly flexed one last time for the ladies and went to my next destination...The Lodge. Now, you would expect to get your ass kicked for wearing what I had on but for some reason no one hit me! I mean, no one. Seriously, I would have hit someone with my car if they looked like I did...awful on both sides.

So I arrive at Lodge and watch two of my friends who are dating make out (WARNING: The following part is not for the queasy and definitely succeeds in supplying to much graphic information. Viewer discretion is encouraged.).

Then something strange happened...something that punched the logic right out of me. My friend unlocked with his girl, grabbed the girl next to him and starting making out with her. I knew what I had to do...no one takes my PDA title away from me without a knockdown drag out. He was the Oats to my Hall, and he would not take the spotlight.

So after I get done making out with my friends girlfriend, I decide to go for the other girl...ahh yes...SUCCESS! Then we switched back again and then I believe once more. Seriously, who counts.

I got up to go to the bathroom, saw another girl and began to make out with her so grossly that if my jaw was open 3 more centimeters I would have swallowed her fucking head. Whatever. If I got kicked in the balls for everytime I impressed someone with my maturity and reason...

I opened my eyes, rolled over at the alarm clock and felt the effects of the little man who apparently came into my room last night and hit me in the head for 5 hours with a pool ball in a sock. I turned my head and saw the laid out wife beater and muttered Jesus Christ...flashes of the night before and day before flash through my head...another JESUS CHRIST!

But I did mail that letter, so the day wasn't a total wash.