"Give me a break. The kid's like... he's like a... have you ever seen a drunk baby? "
Hello, Livejournal people. My name is Dan Simons, and I am drunk, alone in a dark basement, eating BBQ'd chicken pizza. This tale I scribe now for you is how I became this way.
I awoke to the sound of my phone playing the default ringotne, "Jam Buddies." This is resrved for my buddies, or when a jar of jam calls me. Twas Bryan, and he told me what we were to do today.
Grace the town of New Baltimore with the presence of Madame Vida Austin.
So after a shower, a popsicle lunch and a few rounds of Typing of the Dead, where I fend off a horde of zombies by typing correctly, Bryan came over and picked me up around noonish. In to Donna, our silver escort, to the city of Ann Arbor.
But traffic was fucked up so we stopped at McDonald's first.
There I made myself a David and Goliath. Loosely based on the biblical story, you order a McChicken and a Double Cheeseburger. You then remove the bottom bun from both of these, put them together, and eat it. This bread-on-bread action is David.
Then you put the remainder of the McChicken, place it on the rest of the Double Cheeseburger, so it is encased it the top buns of both sandwiches, and consume the beast. This is Goliath.
I washed it down with a mixture of Diet Coke and Hi-C. I tend to mix things at Micky D's.
We get back on the road... and traffic is still fucked up. Oh well, onward we marched.
Traffic never unfucked itself up, so it took us a long time to get out there. And when we did get out there, we were lost in the strange, foreign land of a place called "Ypsilantti." Bryan sorta knew where we were, but not really. We called Dave Zayas... no answer. We called Allegra Lanni... she was at work. We called Vida... she didn't know her way around this town. Finally, we broke every stereotype assumed by 90's female comics and asked for directions.
Eventually, we were in the town of Maze and Blue. We parked next to a big purple house and waited for the goddess Vida. I gave her a running hug when I saw her and we were on our way!
Cramped in the back seat of Bryan's car which holds more crap than an outhouse, with a bladder full of Power-ade and Diet Coke, in traffic that moved slower than dead sea lion, the ride into the NB was a bit of a trek, but we survived, and arrived at Tim Hortons.
We eated.
People started showing up to see witness the power that is The Vida. Teresea, Richard, Derek, Diandra, Bruce. We loitered, the coolest of the misdemeanors, until Richard needed to pick up Jeff. T-dawg and I joined. We picked up Jeff, picked up some clothes for Teresea at her place because she was practically naked, and Richard switched cars at his house. When we got back to Timmy Ho-Ho's, everyone was in the parking lot. So we loitered there. We called Joey to see if he was coming, and left him voice-mails about semen on pizza. Finally we decided to Hookah.
Without the Honduran Ninja by our side, we headed over to Fruicota where Richard kindly purchased two Hookah's, Strawberry and Sour Apple. I, being a non-smoker, inhaled deeply each time and was as light headed as I could get. During this time I used my phone, to invited Stephanie Akker over, which is cool, Listened to Allegra bitch, which is cool, and remind my friend Joe what I told him while he was stoned off his ass, which is cool.
Stephanie came over and we killed the hookahs. Then we laughed at old facebook pictures and Emily's grammatical misadventures. Kife? Kife?
Wow, I really don't like typing while drunk. I leave out details and type shit wrong all the time. I don't see how Katie Walquist does it.
Anypoo, Vida needed a Taco Bell fix, and because she is queen of the Nile, we kind of had too. I ordered a kids meal and got this fucking sweet crayon/scooter/robot/dildo thing. Oh, and taco's. When we left to go to Algonac for a bonfire (bundfire if you're Emily), a simply shit-tastic limo pulled up and "holla'd" and Vida and Steph. That's when I noticed that it was all guys wearing the same style of clothes, with puke on the back of the limo roof, and a guy swaying back and forth while trying to piss on the headlight.
I will never feel white trash again.
So we scamper. Steph drove me to Derek's place and the booze was waiting for us. Derek was to set up the fire, and I with my pyrotechnic help, was to aide him. But not until we rocked out to Limp Bizkit's rendition of Faith. Out back, Derek and I did the manly thing and created fire. Then I started drinking.
Shot of Hpnotiq, a can of Sparks, Jager and Diet Coke, Smirnoff and Orange Soda.
I knew I couldn't spend the night. This knowledge comes from experience: If I spend the night and I didn't tell my parents, I would be shot on site. If I called at 1:20 AM, I would also be exterminated. My only choice was to come home drunk and luckily, I didn't drive at all today.
Again Stephanie came to my aide and offered to drive me home. We left and dropped off Joey as well, then to my house, where I learned about a box of cold, bacon and BBQ chicken pizza waiting for me in the basement. The perfect culinary way to end my drunken night.
Wow, that whole thing was pretty lackluster in detail. I didn't mention how Joey damn near fell in a ditch, how we almost broke a porch by dancing to Cotton Eye Joe, Bryan's near-miss with Rob Nowak, and the violet semi-truck from Maine carrying a thousand midgets. Fuck LJ updates when I'm drunk, I get lazy.
In conclusion, Vida rocks my world. Jager makes me dizzy. Traffic makes me pissed.
Oh, and I fucking love BBQ'd chicken pizza.
I awoke to the sound of my phone playing the default ringotne, "Jam Buddies." This is resrved for my buddies, or when a jar of jam calls me. Twas Bryan, and he told me what we were to do today.
Grace the town of New Baltimore with the presence of Madame Vida Austin.
So after a shower, a popsicle lunch and a few rounds of Typing of the Dead, where I fend off a horde of zombies by typing correctly, Bryan came over and picked me up around noonish. In to Donna, our silver escort, to the city of Ann Arbor.
But traffic was fucked up so we stopped at McDonald's first.
There I made myself a David and Goliath. Loosely based on the biblical story, you order a McChicken and a Double Cheeseburger. You then remove the bottom bun from both of these, put them together, and eat it. This bread-on-bread action is David.
Then you put the remainder of the McChicken, place it on the rest of the Double Cheeseburger, so it is encased it the top buns of both sandwiches, and consume the beast. This is Goliath.
I washed it down with a mixture of Diet Coke and Hi-C. I tend to mix things at Micky D's.
We get back on the road... and traffic is still fucked up. Oh well, onward we marched.
Traffic never unfucked itself up, so it took us a long time to get out there. And when we did get out there, we were lost in the strange, foreign land of a place called "Ypsilantti." Bryan sorta knew where we were, but not really. We called Dave Zayas... no answer. We called Allegra Lanni... she was at work. We called Vida... she didn't know her way around this town. Finally, we broke every stereotype assumed by 90's female comics and asked for directions.
Eventually, we were in the town of Maze and Blue. We parked next to a big purple house and waited for the goddess Vida. I gave her a running hug when I saw her and we were on our way!
Cramped in the back seat of Bryan's car which holds more crap than an outhouse, with a bladder full of Power-ade and Diet Coke, in traffic that moved slower than dead sea lion, the ride into the NB was a bit of a trek, but we survived, and arrived at Tim Hortons.
We eated.
People started showing up to see witness the power that is The Vida. Teresea, Richard, Derek, Diandra, Bruce. We loitered, the coolest of the misdemeanors, until Richard needed to pick up Jeff. T-dawg and I joined. We picked up Jeff, picked up some clothes for Teresea at her place because she was practically naked, and Richard switched cars at his house. When we got back to Timmy Ho-Ho's, everyone was in the parking lot. So we loitered there. We called Joey to see if he was coming, and left him voice-mails about semen on pizza. Finally we decided to Hookah.
Without the Honduran Ninja by our side, we headed over to Fruicota where Richard kindly purchased two Hookah's, Strawberry and Sour Apple. I, being a non-smoker, inhaled deeply each time and was as light headed as I could get. During this time I used my phone, to invited Stephanie Akker over, which is cool, Listened to Allegra bitch, which is cool, and remind my friend Joe what I told him while he was stoned off his ass, which is cool.
Stephanie came over and we killed the hookahs. Then we laughed at old facebook pictures and Emily's grammatical misadventures. Kife? Kife?
Wow, I really don't like typing while drunk. I leave out details and type shit wrong all the time. I don't see how Katie Walquist does it.
Anypoo, Vida needed a Taco Bell fix, and because she is queen of the Nile, we kind of had too. I ordered a kids meal and got this fucking sweet crayon/scooter/robot/dildo thing. Oh, and taco's. When we left to go to Algonac for a bonfire (bundfire if you're Emily), a simply shit-tastic limo pulled up and "holla'd" and Vida and Steph. That's when I noticed that it was all guys wearing the same style of clothes, with puke on the back of the limo roof, and a guy swaying back and forth while trying to piss on the headlight.
I will never feel white trash again.
So we scamper. Steph drove me to Derek's place and the booze was waiting for us. Derek was to set up the fire, and I with my pyrotechnic help, was to aide him. But not until we rocked out to Limp Bizkit's rendition of Faith. Out back, Derek and I did the manly thing and created fire. Then I started drinking.
Shot of Hpnotiq, a can of Sparks, Jager and Diet Coke, Smirnoff and Orange Soda.
I knew I couldn't spend the night. This knowledge comes from experience: If I spend the night and I didn't tell my parents, I would be shot on site. If I called at 1:20 AM, I would also be exterminated. My only choice was to come home drunk and luckily, I didn't drive at all today.
Again Stephanie came to my aide and offered to drive me home. We left and dropped off Joey as well, then to my house, where I learned about a box of cold, bacon and BBQ chicken pizza waiting for me in the basement. The perfect culinary way to end my drunken night.
Wow, that whole thing was pretty lackluster in detail. I didn't mention how Joey damn near fell in a ditch, how we almost broke a porch by dancing to Cotton Eye Joe, Bryan's near-miss with Rob Nowak, and the violet semi-truck from Maine carrying a thousand midgets. Fuck LJ updates when I'm drunk, I get lazy.
In conclusion, Vida rocks my world. Jager makes me dizzy. Traffic makes me pissed.
Oh, and I fucking love BBQ'd chicken pizza.