Handle your liquor or get the hell out...
Why can't you go out anymore and relax, have a couple of drinks, and just chill with your friends in a nice, neighborhood bar without someone trying to start some shit?
Last Thanksgiving, during the yearly, unofficial Indian Creek all-class reunion at Lancelots, some douche tried to say that my friend John was spilling beer on his shoes, when the truth was, in this guy's drunken stupor, he was spilling his OWN beer on his OWN shoes. When he tried to pick a fight with John, I pointed out that he was currently spilling his own beer, to which he replied by maturely and in a very adult manner...spit on me. Fortunately, a cop witnessed it and dragged him outside as we taunted from behind the safety of law enforcement.
Then, for those that don't know, a few days after Christmas, some drug addled mouth breathers in Follansbee sucker punched me and attacked Joe. As I still am not sure I can elaborate on that story due to ongoing legal factions, I will not. But suffice it to say, it was for absolutely no reason other than drunk people wanting fight with the littlest guys in the room.
I think I blogged a few weeks ago about our exit from the Border during which Mark was open palmed slapped by a dude in a giant truck. We're still not sure the reasoning behind that other than we weren't impressed by his truck and Mark refused to hold this guy's hand while singing "China Girl."
Which leads me to this past Saturday night. John came home from Akron (he graduated!!!) and brought his girlfriend with him. So, the two of them, Mark, Holly and I decided to get something to eat at Lancelots, and ended up just hanging there and bullshitting over a couple of beers. We even got Clyde and Lexi to come out. Later in the night, Brandi, my sister, and Josh's sister, Nicole joined us. We're all sitting in the corner booth, minding our own business and it started getting a little busy in the bar. A wedding reception had just gotten over and everyone was still all dressed up. Pretty soon, this chunky guy in a bad suit who was clearly fucked up walked over to our table. He started saying something to Mark in a friendly tone like he knew him. He then, picked up a beer and threw some between Mark and Holly. What the fuck?! Then, drunkenly, he asked us, "What about that? Huh? Whad a ya think a that?" Remember that South Park where Stan's dad was picking fights at tee ball games? Yeah, it was just like that. After we stood up and yelled, requesting to know what exactly this guy's fucking problem was, he threatend to beat the shit out of John. Out of the entire table, the last person you threaten is John. He will actually call you out and do everything he can to fucking stab you. I love John.
So, Jackie being on the end of the table (and having huge brass balls), stood up and grabbed this guy by the shoulder and tried kicking him out (she works there). When he wouldn't leave, she got Gus (the owner) and he kicked him out. I thought Gus was gonna get punched, but apparently he wasn't THAT drunk. We found out later that just before he started in on us, he dumped a full ashtray on his best girl friends head. That's the kind of upstanding individual I'm talking about here.
Anyway, we all get ready to leave about an hour later and who should come strolling back through the bar but King Douchewand himself. Gus kicked him out again, and since none of his friends would leave the bar long enough to take the maggot home, he had to hang out in the parking lot. Josh told me on Sunday that when they closed the bar finally at 3, this guy had crawled into someone's unlocked car and slept in the backseat. They had to call the cops and hopefully this guy was taken to an anal penetration holding cell downtown.
What's the moral of this story? If you can't handle yourself well while drinking, don't drink. Everybody has times where their motor skills are nonexistant. Everybody has gotten sick once or twice. And some of us (like my roommate) challenge our cars to fights and insert love beads into notorious body cavities. That's all well and good. However, if you are a mean, nasty mouth breather just looking for a fight, perhaps you should drink at home.
Or maybe you should just not drink at all. You are looking a little soggy around the midsection.
Douche.
Last Thanksgiving, during the yearly, unofficial Indian Creek all-class reunion at Lancelots, some douche tried to say that my friend John was spilling beer on his shoes, when the truth was, in this guy's drunken stupor, he was spilling his OWN beer on his OWN shoes. When he tried to pick a fight with John, I pointed out that he was currently spilling his own beer, to which he replied by maturely and in a very adult manner...spit on me. Fortunately, a cop witnessed it and dragged him outside as we taunted from behind the safety of law enforcement.
Then, for those that don't know, a few days after Christmas, some drug addled mouth breathers in Follansbee sucker punched me and attacked Joe. As I still am not sure I can elaborate on that story due to ongoing legal factions, I will not. But suffice it to say, it was for absolutely no reason other than drunk people wanting fight with the littlest guys in the room.
I think I blogged a few weeks ago about our exit from the Border during which Mark was open palmed slapped by a dude in a giant truck. We're still not sure the reasoning behind that other than we weren't impressed by his truck and Mark refused to hold this guy's hand while singing "China Girl."
Which leads me to this past Saturday night. John came home from Akron (he graduated!!!) and brought his girlfriend with him. So, the two of them, Mark, Holly and I decided to get something to eat at Lancelots, and ended up just hanging there and bullshitting over a couple of beers. We even got Clyde and Lexi to come out. Later in the night, Brandi, my sister, and Josh's sister, Nicole joined us. We're all sitting in the corner booth, minding our own business and it started getting a little busy in the bar. A wedding reception had just gotten over and everyone was still all dressed up. Pretty soon, this chunky guy in a bad suit who was clearly fucked up walked over to our table. He started saying something to Mark in a friendly tone like he knew him. He then, picked up a beer and threw some between Mark and Holly. What the fuck?! Then, drunkenly, he asked us, "What about that? Huh? Whad a ya think a that?" Remember that South Park where Stan's dad was picking fights at tee ball games? Yeah, it was just like that. After we stood up and yelled, requesting to know what exactly this guy's fucking problem was, he threatend to beat the shit out of John. Out of the entire table, the last person you threaten is John. He will actually call you out and do everything he can to fucking stab you. I love John.
So, Jackie being on the end of the table (and having huge brass balls), stood up and grabbed this guy by the shoulder and tried kicking him out (she works there). When he wouldn't leave, she got Gus (the owner) and he kicked him out. I thought Gus was gonna get punched, but apparently he wasn't THAT drunk. We found out later that just before he started in on us, he dumped a full ashtray on his best girl friends head. That's the kind of upstanding individual I'm talking about here.
Anyway, we all get ready to leave about an hour later and who should come strolling back through the bar but King Douchewand himself. Gus kicked him out again, and since none of his friends would leave the bar long enough to take the maggot home, he had to hang out in the parking lot. Josh told me on Sunday that when they closed the bar finally at 3, this guy had crawled into someone's unlocked car and slept in the backseat. They had to call the cops and hopefully this guy was taken to an anal penetration holding cell downtown.
What's the moral of this story? If you can't handle yourself well while drinking, don't drink. Everybody has times where their motor skills are nonexistant. Everybody has gotten sick once or twice. And some of us (like my roommate) challenge our cars to fights and insert love beads into notorious body cavities. That's all well and good. However, if you are a mean, nasty mouth breather just looking for a fight, perhaps you should drink at home.
Or maybe you should just not drink at all. You are looking a little soggy around the midsection.
Douche.