The best laid plans...

Friday started off with good intentions. I intended to maybe go on a short hike to start the day right. You know, burn a few calories so I would feel better about myself later. Well it just didn't materialize. Then I went to Randy's at about one o'clock. Again, with good intentions. I wasn't going to go out and I wasn't even really planning to drink I thought maybe we could just goof off and play some music and some dominoes or cards. Well, I forgot the dominoes and lets face it, playing cards with Randy and Alex is trying at best. When they're up they're all smiles, when they're down they're all insults. And Randy will not allow the pace of the game to be slowed by conversations, thats when he starts in with all his funny funny nicknames, and tells you its your turn three times in a row. Like he'll call you by the brand of your t-shirt or by the soda you're drinking. HA! hilarious. I digress.
The seeds of dissent began to grow. In my mind I was in conflict. For a while it was fine. Alex had rented a new game we watched that for a while. When it turned out to be one of those games that are only fun for one person, things began to slow. A change began happening in me. "Where would this day go", I thought. All the recorded TV had been watched. All the DVD's had been played out. I knew one thing, i didn't want to spend too much money, i didn't want to go the Crown or Claim Jumper's or any of the old places. I started to panic about a night of boredom and Alex asking what we were gonna do every five minutes. Things went from bad to worse when Alex's. Then an idea began to start to take shape. Don't ask me where it came from, because I don't know... I thought to myself, how can I get all things I need for a Friday night like chips dip and beer and not go out. It occured to me that I knew how to make salsas and cheese dips. Not only would this stem the tide of our craving for snacks, but it would also be an activity that would take time and stave off the growing panic. I threw it out there. We settled on cheese dip. I suggested Velveeta, ground beef, tomato also know in my house as Chili con queso. What we settled on was Velveeta, Hormel Chili (no beans), and salsa. And lets not forget, lets NOT forget. A 24 pack of PBR $10.99 with our Ralph's card. I'm not going to say we weren't tempted by the 18 pack of Miller lite bottle's for $11.99 because we were. But we're not amatuers and we know the value of four extra beers for one extra dollar. In the end, I think it will be that same sense of value tht will ultimately prove our downfall, but I don't want to give too much away too soon. So we headed out with our mission in our mind. When we returned this situation had gone from bad to worse. Like troops returning home from war, met by hordes of spitting hippies, we had expected the reception of returning heroes instead we had a door slammed in our face. It was Alex's bedroom door. He was in the throes of agony over his Xbox having just taken a shit on him. He was in no mood for chips, beer and certainly not a prepared cheese product dip. We pressed on. I had been where he had been. My PS2 had taken a shit on me just months before. (he'd been bragging that his Xbox had never given him one problem. Karma can be a motherfucker).
Well, as Randy has previously stated the chili con queso was heavy on the queso and not so much on the Chili. Of course, Alex blamed me for not buying more chili because he was so damn pissed. The night was doomed. The only way to save it...Beer. Lots and lots of Beer. We laid into that PBR like parched men crossing the Sahara.
By the time Tom called, we were on the bottom layer of that two layer box. Lauri had arrived and all notions of staying at home had been pissed into the toilet.
We met Tom and Danny at the Crown with the intention of going to the Chalet from there. Yes, the one who didn't want to spend any money was now seekng out the most expensive drinks in town. Such is the influence of that insidious brown liquid known as beer. One drink at the Crown and we were on our way... to the Chalet. I can sum up waht happened at the Chalet only in brief statements because the memories are a little hazy now and are just a collection of images. Most of what I do know is reconstructed from eye witness accounts. So here we go. Stella Artois. Irish Car Bomb. Stella Artois. Walk Lauri to car. (Lauri's leaving could be trouble). Back to the bar. Finish Stella Artois. Blurred images. Some sort of shot. Tom saying, "she bought us shots because she likes us.." she being the six shooter bartendress, and the reason the Chalet was overflowing with dudes that night. Danny doesn't want his shot. Pete does and drinks it, his second, before anyone can stop him. Projectiles from Randy's covered mouth, splash on Pete. Better Pete than one of the many dudes there that night. Exit the Chalet. Driving on the freeway home. Randy and Alex, asking Me questions or perhaps just talking amoungst them selves, wither way I'm getting upset. I yell, "I can't understand what your saying so just stop talking." Somewhere in thier alien talk I get that they are trying to ask me where I want to go. "Lauri's!" yeah let her deal with this mess I've become. I entered the Chalet a sensible man and left a lobotomized lump who no longer had control of his higher faculties, like language. I don't blame the Chalet though. It was all the fault of our overblown sense of value. It doesn't matter what you do afterwards, dusting a 24 pack is gonna lay you low everytime. Well, I go to Lauri's and immeadiately went to a very...very...very dark place. All solids, liquids, and prepared cheese products were immeadiately expelled from my body. You can imagine Lauri's joy to see me. (She got flowers on Sunday when I had reagained control of my body.)
As you can imagine. Saturday was spent vommiting, dry heaving, vomitting and dry heaving again. When I threw up at 9:30pm Saturday night, I was begginning to think they punishment didn't fit the crime. Lauri can tell you about my hangover cylce. I believe its punishment from God and not actually a result of extreme bodily abuse. Oh and I forgot to mention the part where I woke up on Saturday morning, in addition to the hangover, with a left knee that felt like it had been hit with a baseball bat. No one seems to know how this happened. I have my theories. Maybe I fell coming back to the Chalet after walking Lauri to her car. I would have been alone and wouldn't have remembered. Maybe I twisted it while kneeling over the toilet for like two hours. Maybe Lauri actually did hit it with a baseball bat after I had passed out for the night as punishment for showing up incoherent and expelling my innards at her house at 1am. Lord knows she would have been justified.
Am I proud of these events? No I'm not. Did I have fun that night? If I did I don't remember. Did I learn my lesson? Time will tell. Did it make a pretty good story? you tell me.
I started off with good intentions.