Post by dieslowdammit on Feb 15, 2008 21:53:58 GMT -5
Gallons of Alcohol Consumed in last 24 Hours: 3
Types of Alcohol Consumed: 1 Gallon Absolut; 2 Gallons Wild Turkey Whiskey
Ounces of Marijuana Obtained: 5
Ounces Smoked: 3
Pills Eaten: 3 Oxycontin
Times Vomited: 8
Bruises from Falling: 12
Injuries from Fighting: Two Broken fingers, momentary loss of hearing in left ear
Seems like quite a bit for a 24 hour break from the internet doesn't it? After my meltdown the other day; (believe me, that stupid post on my board was the tip of the ice berg), I decided to take a full 24 hour period from the internet, and I guarantee I will be taking days off from the internet more often.
Not that you people aren't cool, but yesterday, I left the internet with a headache, partial loss of hearing in my left ear, and 200 bucks in the bank. I went and got two of my closer friends, Burnt a total of 16 cds via my friends laptop. I jacked my stereo from my house, and we went to my mates house out in the county, then we started calling mofos. At 1pm, we called every metal head we knew, and told them to call every metal head they new. I added my 200 bones into the pool of my two friends, who matched it. Then, one of them, names jason, got two of his friends to add 200 bones, (no, we didn't spend every bit of it, but we came close). On thursday, we 5 piled into a rusty old Stationwagon with metal stickers all over the outside, and we drove to Paducah, which is roughly about 20 miles away. We bought a total of 25 gallons of alcohol, and then purchased 5 ounces of the green and leafy. From there, we hit up a an "aquaintance" of mine and bought some Oxys, little did we know, that all the people we called, (30 in total, i think) were calling their friends, and telling them it was a byob party.
4pm rolls around, there's that oldschool Thrash blaring out of my stereo, Death Angel, Forever keepin' it fucking underground. I've got an open bottle of Absolut in front of me, and I'm smoking a "cigar". The doorbell rings on his 2 storey country house, and we open the door, seeing a total of 2 trucks and 2 small cars parked in the front yard. My mate from Metropolis came in and shoved a brown bag of alcohol in my arms, monetarily calling in HIS friends, 6 of which were chicks, and turning the stereo up even louder than we had it before.
So, expecting no more people, we all just start drinking, rolling joints and whatnot, just hanging out, whatever. A sound from the backyard startles all of us, a car door. I, already getting up to go to the kitchen and use the phone to order some pizzas, grab the phone, shut the door, and look outside. Two truckloads of people I don't even know, packed from cab to tailgate, and one van packed with people. In horror, I turned around, exiting the room. "Jared", I addressed my Metropolis native friend, "Why is there a Van with "Phoenix Mourning" spray painted across the side full of people in the back yard?"
"Vinnie, m'darky." His long dreadlocks flap around as he speaks. "I made a few calls."
Suddenly, the door opens, and another of my friends whom I can only describe as Jim Breuer's character from Half Baked walks in, only he has long hair and a testament Tshirt. He shoves yet another brown bag of liquor in my arms, as more metal girls (god I love those metal girls) as well as a few more dudes pour in. 26 people... I can dig.
So we order some pizza, and I start talking to this girl, names Bridgette, turns out, her favorite band of all time is Slayer as well, made only better by the fact that we have on the same shirt, a Skeleton soldier in green nazi hat reading "Wehrmacht" at the bottom and "Slaytanic" across the back. Suddenly, I hear another knock... "self." I said... very drunk and passing my index-finger sized doobie to my female companion, "what the hell could this possibly be".
A few seconds later, the friends of my friends PLUS some more friends pile in, each with a bottle in hand. I didn't keep up with how much liquor was at the place, nor how much pot was at the location, all I knew is that we were in for one hell of a night. I ended up burning more old Thrash CDs from my collection, "Eric's Laptop database is drawn from my music collection. He waits for me to download" and suddenly we have an old-school thrash party. This house is one of those old country houses out in the middle of an open field, no cops hardly come down this way, and the closes neighbor is about a mile down the road, so yeah, it's pretty free.
So Bridgette and I, as well as a few others, spill outside, the music is still pretty hearable even from the tree a good 20 yards down from the house he lives in. I had been feeling very warm, *and vomited 3 or 4 times as well*. I don't remember how much I'd already drank, I don't know for sure how much I drank at all, I just know what I was told. Eventually, I end up making out with Bridgette beneath the tree, taking her inside and making sweet drunken love with her. It's now half past midnight.
I'm sitting on the couch, drinking, rolling a heavy one, when Brad and Jared start pushing each other. I quickly and very unsteadily get between the two just as Jared happened to be throwing a punch, getting my hand up just in time to block the punch with my right pinkie and ring finger, consequentially breaking them both.
Nearly everyone was passed out at 4 am, save for Bridgette and I. Very inebriated, I joked that Bridgette would have to carry my big ass into the bedroom where I was to sleep. To her credit, she tried, but I quickly laid any allegations of letting her do so to rest by standing up and sprinting to the bathroom, vomiting violently and copiously into the toilet. I quickly brushed my teeth, something that she found to be a turn on, since no one really likes vomit-breath. Bridgette mindlessly went to the living room, cutting my stereo to a deafening silence. On the bathroom sink, I washed my face, dryed my hands, then rolled another sticky one. I walked to the bedroom, collapsing on the mattress and fully expecting to sleep their alone. I had just enough time to light said joint, before I noticed that Bridgette had prepared herself a nightshirt, wearing nothing but panties beneath it. The nightshirt was my spare shirt, a Rob Zombie t, and it completely enveloped her. I lit the joint as she slid in next to me, passing it to her and removing my cellphone from my pocket. She seemed to read my mind, though I wasn't about to ask, she opened my MotoRazr v3, and placed her name and numbers into the database, then called hers, so she could apply it to her phone book as well. The last thing I remember doing before passing out was kissing her, which is something I've neither been drunk enough, nor cared enough about the girl to continue doing without expecting something more in return.
So today is the next day, I woke up at 6pm, said my goodbyes, grabbed the last of the sweet leaf (a couple ounces, due to my friends and their no need to charge me), leapt into the car, and immediately launched into a bone-crippling barrage of texting my new lady friend.
So to say I've learned something is an understatement. Negate everything I said in my previous post, because it was all horseshit, the ramblings of a man who fell victim to his own laziness. No matter WHAT you like to do, you can always change the situations you're in. Regardless of the old cliche, you AREN'T always dealt your cards in life, and a little drive is all it takes for something to cascade into something larger. Is all of what happened above highly unlikely? Of course. How many fucking people meet someone they truely connect with on Valentines Day? Anyway, I had hella fun, resolved that I must take days, maybe weeks away from the internet and do something more often, and I've had a killer hangover all day. I'm about to eat more aspirin and begin texting bridgette, maybe, possibly work on some graphics? i dunno, but one things for fucking sure, just because you THINK you've hit a brick wall, doesn't mean the chance won't present itself to break through that wall.
Say hi to your mothers for me,
VIN
And happy headbanging.
Types of Alcohol Consumed: 1 Gallon Absolut; 2 Gallons Wild Turkey Whiskey
Ounces of Marijuana Obtained: 5
Ounces Smoked: 3
Pills Eaten: 3 Oxycontin
Times Vomited: 8
Bruises from Falling: 12
Injuries from Fighting: Two Broken fingers, momentary loss of hearing in left ear
Seems like quite a bit for a 24 hour break from the internet doesn't it? After my meltdown the other day; (believe me, that stupid post on my board was the tip of the ice berg), I decided to take a full 24 hour period from the internet, and I guarantee I will be taking days off from the internet more often.
Not that you people aren't cool, but yesterday, I left the internet with a headache, partial loss of hearing in my left ear, and 200 bucks in the bank. I went and got two of my closer friends, Burnt a total of 16 cds via my friends laptop. I jacked my stereo from my house, and we went to my mates house out in the county, then we started calling mofos. At 1pm, we called every metal head we knew, and told them to call every metal head they new. I added my 200 bones into the pool of my two friends, who matched it. Then, one of them, names jason, got two of his friends to add 200 bones, (no, we didn't spend every bit of it, but we came close). On thursday, we 5 piled into a rusty old Stationwagon with metal stickers all over the outside, and we drove to Paducah, which is roughly about 20 miles away. We bought a total of 25 gallons of alcohol, and then purchased 5 ounces of the green and leafy. From there, we hit up a an "aquaintance" of mine and bought some Oxys, little did we know, that all the people we called, (30 in total, i think) were calling their friends, and telling them it was a byob party.
4pm rolls around, there's that oldschool Thrash blaring out of my stereo, Death Angel, Forever keepin' it fucking underground. I've got an open bottle of Absolut in front of me, and I'm smoking a "cigar". The doorbell rings on his 2 storey country house, and we open the door, seeing a total of 2 trucks and 2 small cars parked in the front yard. My mate from Metropolis came in and shoved a brown bag of alcohol in my arms, monetarily calling in HIS friends, 6 of which were chicks, and turning the stereo up even louder than we had it before.
So, expecting no more people, we all just start drinking, rolling joints and whatnot, just hanging out, whatever. A sound from the backyard startles all of us, a car door. I, already getting up to go to the kitchen and use the phone to order some pizzas, grab the phone, shut the door, and look outside. Two truckloads of people I don't even know, packed from cab to tailgate, and one van packed with people. In horror, I turned around, exiting the room. "Jared", I addressed my Metropolis native friend, "Why is there a Van with "Phoenix Mourning" spray painted across the side full of people in the back yard?"
"Vinnie, m'darky." His long dreadlocks flap around as he speaks. "I made a few calls."
Suddenly, the door opens, and another of my friends whom I can only describe as Jim Breuer's character from Half Baked walks in, only he has long hair and a testament Tshirt. He shoves yet another brown bag of liquor in my arms, as more metal girls (god I love those metal girls) as well as a few more dudes pour in. 26 people... I can dig.
So we order some pizza, and I start talking to this girl, names Bridgette, turns out, her favorite band of all time is Slayer as well, made only better by the fact that we have on the same shirt, a Skeleton soldier in green nazi hat reading "Wehrmacht" at the bottom and "Slaytanic" across the back. Suddenly, I hear another knock... "self." I said... very drunk and passing my index-finger sized doobie to my female companion, "what the hell could this possibly be".
A few seconds later, the friends of my friends PLUS some more friends pile in, each with a bottle in hand. I didn't keep up with how much liquor was at the place, nor how much pot was at the location, all I knew is that we were in for one hell of a night. I ended up burning more old Thrash CDs from my collection, "Eric's Laptop database is drawn from my music collection. He waits for me to download" and suddenly we have an old-school thrash party. This house is one of those old country houses out in the middle of an open field, no cops hardly come down this way, and the closes neighbor is about a mile down the road, so yeah, it's pretty free.
So Bridgette and I, as well as a few others, spill outside, the music is still pretty hearable even from the tree a good 20 yards down from the house he lives in. I had been feeling very warm, *and vomited 3 or 4 times as well*. I don't remember how much I'd already drank, I don't know for sure how much I drank at all, I just know what I was told. Eventually, I end up making out with Bridgette beneath the tree, taking her inside and making sweet drunken love with her. It's now half past midnight.
I'm sitting on the couch, drinking, rolling a heavy one, when Brad and Jared start pushing each other. I quickly and very unsteadily get between the two just as Jared happened to be throwing a punch, getting my hand up just in time to block the punch with my right pinkie and ring finger, consequentially breaking them both.
Nearly everyone was passed out at 4 am, save for Bridgette and I. Very inebriated, I joked that Bridgette would have to carry my big ass into the bedroom where I was to sleep. To her credit, she tried, but I quickly laid any allegations of letting her do so to rest by standing up and sprinting to the bathroom, vomiting violently and copiously into the toilet. I quickly brushed my teeth, something that she found to be a turn on, since no one really likes vomit-breath. Bridgette mindlessly went to the living room, cutting my stereo to a deafening silence. On the bathroom sink, I washed my face, dryed my hands, then rolled another sticky one. I walked to the bedroom, collapsing on the mattress and fully expecting to sleep their alone. I had just enough time to light said joint, before I noticed that Bridgette had prepared herself a nightshirt, wearing nothing but panties beneath it. The nightshirt was my spare shirt, a Rob Zombie t, and it completely enveloped her. I lit the joint as she slid in next to me, passing it to her and removing my cellphone from my pocket. She seemed to read my mind, though I wasn't about to ask, she opened my MotoRazr v3, and placed her name and numbers into the database, then called hers, so she could apply it to her phone book as well. The last thing I remember doing before passing out was kissing her, which is something I've neither been drunk enough, nor cared enough about the girl to continue doing without expecting something more in return.
So today is the next day, I woke up at 6pm, said my goodbyes, grabbed the last of the sweet leaf (a couple ounces, due to my friends and their no need to charge me), leapt into the car, and immediately launched into a bone-crippling barrage of texting my new lady friend.
So to say I've learned something is an understatement. Negate everything I said in my previous post, because it was all horseshit, the ramblings of a man who fell victim to his own laziness. No matter WHAT you like to do, you can always change the situations you're in. Regardless of the old cliche, you AREN'T always dealt your cards in life, and a little drive is all it takes for something to cascade into something larger. Is all of what happened above highly unlikely? Of course. How many fucking people meet someone they truely connect with on Valentines Day? Anyway, I had hella fun, resolved that I must take days, maybe weeks away from the internet and do something more often, and I've had a killer hangover all day. I'm about to eat more aspirin and begin texting bridgette, maybe, possibly work on some graphics? i dunno, but one things for fucking sure, just because you THINK you've hit a brick wall, doesn't mean the chance won't present itself to break through that wall.
Say hi to your mothers for me,
VIN
And happy headbanging.
