Man, have I been slacking on writing new posts. Well, soon work will get a bit lighter and I won't be completely exhausted when I get home, so maybe I'll post more consistently then. As for now, you'll just have to deal with the spattering of incoherent babble. And what's more incoherent babble than a story that involves me playing beer pong.
So, last Saturday, just over a week since I had my final jaw wires removed allowing me to eat, talk and smile without pain, I decided to throw a barbeque at my place. I picked up some burgers, dogs, chicken, beer, crackers and dips, and mixed up some pasta salad, anticipating a crew of about 10-15 people. Knowing that the crew would also be a bit guy-heavy, I made the move that would determine the evening for several unlucky visitors to my house. Yes, I pulled out a table, twelve solo cups, and two ping pong balls. Not much more needs to be said about that.
Hours pass, over 100 cans of Miller Lite disappear (yeah, I ain't shittin you) and it is merely 10 PM. The burgers were amazing, or at least that's what I remember. The dog is going ape shit. People are playing 'Sorry' on my basement floor...WTF??? And Langley and I are running the beer pong table like Tiger Woods on a PGA tour.
So, where should a crew like this head? Well, out on the town of course...and we're off to DC and Madhatter's. The ride's a bit hazy down to Langley's place, where I think we only were for a few minutes before grabbing a cab over to the bar. We're the first to arrive, and a whole second crew is also planning to meet us, but I'm in a zone of stupidity that can't wait until others arrive.
I don't know how it happened, but the next thing you know, I'm talking with this chick and telling her about breaking my jaw. She's telling me about how she broke her nose and then decided to have it completely redone, since she was having a surgery anyway, and all I'm thinking about is how hot her friend is and wondering why her friend is bitterly sitting down in the midst of this crazy bar.
I should have left sleeping dogs lie once her friend told me that she just broke up with her boyfriend, but the challenge draws me in (like a girl refusing to laugh when I do the Roger Rabbit in front of her). So I proceed to ask her her name. She tells it to me, but I'm too shit-faced and it's too loud to hear anything. So I ask again. Again, I've got nothing. So I ask again..saying what I think she said. Not a smart idea J-Man. She tried one more time to answer before storming off in disgust at my obvious incoherence. And yes, ladies and gentlemen, it appears as if Johnny Smooth is back.
The next couple hours is even more of a blur, though the other crew rolled in from a birthday party and I remember being handed a truly unnecessary SoCo-Lime shot and a couple more beers, before I am now magically talking to yet another girl that goes to UVA. I'm baffled when she says she lives in Charlottesville, not fully comprehending that cars can travel long distances to allow girls to go out in DC even when they don't live here...and then we're dancing. Yeah, your guess is as good as mine. I'm surprised I was even forming complete sentences let alone convincing a girl to dance with me??? All appears to be going well, until a buddy of mine, that I actually grew up with but don't see all that often, decides to 'playfully' head butt me right in the temple.
Owwww. Why would you do that? In a bar?? While someone is dancing??? What in god's name is going on here???? Why would you do that?????? (He's laughing. Having a good time.)
Well, this makes me dizzier and now I realize that I have to take a piss, so I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Did I say I'd be coming back?? Who knows. Because after suffering through the second worst bathroom this side of Dan's Cafe, the girl has mysteriously disappeared and is now dancing with another one of my buddies. In a drunken state, I am now transformed into bitter J-Man and lack of sleep and 10 hours of hard drinking are catching up to me. And Langley just pulled an Irish goodbye.
Thankfully, the lights go on in the bar, and it's time to head for the metro. The rest of my crew heads out with me and we're cruising back to Rockville...me sitting all alone, stewing about that fact and the impending 1 mile uphill walk from the metro to my house. Somehow I managed to muster the energy to make it home, and thankfully my football game was cancelled in the morning, because even a noon wakeup seemed early.
God bless being able to eat and drink normally again. Man, have I missed these retarded outings.