Dude, SHUT-THE-F*CK-UP!
This weekend has been sorta kick ass...and I've been sorta really drunk the whole time. Possibly even irresponsible? I dunno...
Friday -- The girl I bought my car from took me to get 3 for 1 drinks at Antigua, then got me into all these places she used to work at on Church Street drinking for free. I got super-trashed. I was hurting Saturday. Also went to Bar-b-q bar and met up with a bunch of people, and Rooster and Robby Ryba were at Wall Street. Got a Blackberry at work for 50 bucks.
Saturday -- After work I came home and did some stuff...namely some team fortress and what not. Then hopped in the car to go pedi-cabbing. They didn't leave an extra pin to lock the bike to the trailer. Balls, man. So I went to the Social to see a co-worker fill in on keys with a friend's band. Met up with a bunch of people. Hung out at bar-b-q bar for a while. Got drunk again.
Here's where it gets good...
I'm hanging around the house and Richard and Brendon finally call me back and confirm their attendance at Coconuts. I figure, "why not." Drive out there, hang out, have some drinks (on Richard, who's mega-trashed). I'm talking to this really cute girl who, turns out, bartends at Antigua (now I have an excuse to go back to Antigua! HUZZAH! Hey, wait a second...) and a girl that Richard knows stops to talk to us. There must have been an excess of douche in the air because some fat biker guy covered with tattoos tried to start a fight with my cute chick! Are you shitting me?! So I stand up and get ready to beat this short, fat, Napoleonic little tattoo'd moron's face in. I mean, the girl is here drinking with me, flirting with me, buying me shots, waiting for her DAD to come pick her up so she can hang out with him (note: that's so cute), and this douche bag tries to start a fight with her?! She says she's alright. But I walked with her to the entrance when she left.
What's next?
I come back, and some OTHER random douche bag tries to start a fight with me!
**Before this story continues, I have to ruin the ending and save you some reading. I don't get in a fist fight. It's all rather anti-climatic. Not in a shitty, M. Night Shyamalan sort of way, but just...well...if you wanna keep reading, be my guest.
Screaming shit that hardly made any sense like, "you're bitch-bait," or something. Um...the last two times I've been to the beach say that, "yes...I AM bitch bait. My friends throw me out in the water so to speak, and usually catch a bitch or two. Nice ones, not to brag. Insulted? No, I can't say I am." But he keeps going! He starts talking racist shit, and now I'm mad too. Granted he's drunk, I'm kinda drunk too. So I started screaming back at him. Taking the shit talk so far, and so loud, that we both get kicked out by security. And outside? He STILL won't shut-up. Now this guy...he couldn't have had more than 10Lbs. on me if he had anything. He wasn't looking to bully someone or for a push-over, he was trying to assert dominance. Um...Go assert dominance on someone else. I'll have none of it, sir. So he walks up along side me and starts running his mouth again. I make that mouth running, "blah blah" motion with my opening and closing hand as I'm walking away from the beach and the cops. Him screaming, "come on, lets take a walk!" and me going ahead for that walk and letting him know, "keep on talking you fucking bitch," because frankly? I'm sick of this guy. At some point before we make it to A1A, a bunch of his friends run up and cart him off, and a few, chick included (do I need to refer back to the, "bitch-bait," thing? No, I don't think I do...), stay behind to apologize to me. They point out that his drunk ass probably won't remember this exchange the next day and that his scumbag ass isn't worth going to jail over. I concede to this revelation as common sense returns to me.
--I can't get punched because I have a paying runway show on Saturday (Could I have taken this drunk ass-hole without him landing a hit? Hmm...)
--I'm Richard and Brendon's ride home. Richard got us sushi...something I would not have wanted to miss out on in lieu of a Brevard County Holding Cell
--I always talk to MONDO (yes, MONDO) cute girls when I'm at the beach...who wants to fight?
--Oh, and did I mention...I got a car and a 50 dollar BlackBerry this weekend?
Yeah...I guess I had way too cool of a weekend to go to jail over beating that guy's face in. Or worse, finding out he's one of those BJJ-jock-bro-assholes, and him beating MY face in. I need my face pay bills, bruh.
Plus after all this, I ended up running into Nik and Stiffy. I swung by Adam's and took my car up to 100mph for the first time on Lake Picket off of Chuluota Road. Rissa was asleep, and nobody else was there. So I let myself in the garage and crashed on the couch for a good 3 hours with Adult-Swim on to sleep off a little more of that buzz.
Man...Me at Wall Street...Church Street...Dragon Room...Mako's?...Antigua?...Vintage? Coconuts jumping back into Bro's faces and telling them to keep talking if they wanna look like a bitch? 100mph in my 2 door Civic? What a frat-tastic weekend. It's all very out of character, but I enjoyed the fuck out of it. It's like my inner jock and my inner hipster had a fight, and my inner hipster just got laid out in the first hit. Frankly? I blame the girl who sold me my car. For taking me to a bunch of clubs I never hang out, buying me any of the drinks that WEREN'T free, oh...and having amazing tits. You have to see these things, it looks like she shoved to water balloons down her shirt. Her ass ain't half bad either. Dude, she's hot, I want it. I...have...to have it!
--I'm such a gigantic prick. All talk. I seriously am.
Friday -- The girl I bought my car from took me to get 3 for 1 drinks at Antigua, then got me into all these places she used to work at on Church Street drinking for free. I got super-trashed. I was hurting Saturday. Also went to Bar-b-q bar and met up with a bunch of people, and Rooster and Robby Ryba were at Wall Street. Got a Blackberry at work for 50 bucks.
Saturday -- After work I came home and did some stuff...namely some team fortress and what not. Then hopped in the car to go pedi-cabbing. They didn't leave an extra pin to lock the bike to the trailer. Balls, man. So I went to the Social to see a co-worker fill in on keys with a friend's band. Met up with a bunch of people. Hung out at bar-b-q bar for a while. Got drunk again.
Here's where it gets good...
I'm hanging around the house and Richard and Brendon finally call me back and confirm their attendance at Coconuts. I figure, "why not." Drive out there, hang out, have some drinks (on Richard, who's mega-trashed). I'm talking to this really cute girl who, turns out, bartends at Antigua (now I have an excuse to go back to Antigua! HUZZAH! Hey, wait a second...) and a girl that Richard knows stops to talk to us. There must have been an excess of douche in the air because some fat biker guy covered with tattoos tried to start a fight with my cute chick! Are you shitting me?! So I stand up and get ready to beat this short, fat, Napoleonic little tattoo'd moron's face in. I mean, the girl is here drinking with me, flirting with me, buying me shots, waiting for her DAD to come pick her up so she can hang out with him (note: that's so cute), and this douche bag tries to start a fight with her?! She says she's alright. But I walked with her to the entrance when she left.
What's next?
I come back, and some OTHER random douche bag tries to start a fight with me!
**Before this story continues, I have to ruin the ending and save you some reading. I don't get in a fist fight. It's all rather anti-climatic. Not in a shitty, M. Night Shyamalan sort of way, but just...well...if you wanna keep reading, be my guest.
Screaming shit that hardly made any sense like, "you're bitch-bait," or something. Um...the last two times I've been to the beach say that, "yes...I AM bitch bait. My friends throw me out in the water so to speak, and usually catch a bitch or two. Nice ones, not to brag. Insulted? No, I can't say I am." But he keeps going! He starts talking racist shit, and now I'm mad too. Granted he's drunk, I'm kinda drunk too. So I started screaming back at him. Taking the shit talk so far, and so loud, that we both get kicked out by security. And outside? He STILL won't shut-up. Now this guy...he couldn't have had more than 10Lbs. on me if he had anything. He wasn't looking to bully someone or for a push-over, he was trying to assert dominance. Um...Go assert dominance on someone else. I'll have none of it, sir. So he walks up along side me and starts running his mouth again. I make that mouth running, "blah blah" motion with my opening and closing hand as I'm walking away from the beach and the cops. Him screaming, "come on, lets take a walk!" and me going ahead for that walk and letting him know, "keep on talking you fucking bitch," because frankly? I'm sick of this guy. At some point before we make it to A1A, a bunch of his friends run up and cart him off, and a few, chick included (do I need to refer back to the, "bitch-bait," thing? No, I don't think I do...), stay behind to apologize to me. They point out that his drunk ass probably won't remember this exchange the next day and that his scumbag ass isn't worth going to jail over. I concede to this revelation as common sense returns to me.
--I can't get punched because I have a paying runway show on Saturday (Could I have taken this drunk ass-hole without him landing a hit? Hmm...)
--I'm Richard and Brendon's ride home. Richard got us sushi...something I would not have wanted to miss out on in lieu of a Brevard County Holding Cell
--I always talk to MONDO (yes, MONDO) cute girls when I'm at the beach...who wants to fight?
--Oh, and did I mention...I got a car and a 50 dollar BlackBerry this weekend?
Yeah...I guess I had way too cool of a weekend to go to jail over beating that guy's face in. Or worse, finding out he's one of those BJJ-jock-bro-assholes, and him beating MY face in. I need my face pay bills, bruh.
Plus after all this, I ended up running into Nik and Stiffy. I swung by Adam's and took my car up to 100mph for the first time on Lake Picket off of Chuluota Road. Rissa was asleep, and nobody else was there. So I let myself in the garage and crashed on the couch for a good 3 hours with Adult-Swim on to sleep off a little more of that buzz.
Man...Me at Wall Street...Church Street...Dragon Room...Mako's?...Antigua?...Vintage? Coconuts jumping back into Bro's faces and telling them to keep talking if they wanna look like a bitch? 100mph in my 2 door Civic? What a frat-tastic weekend. It's all very out of character, but I enjoyed the fuck out of it. It's like my inner jock and my inner hipster had a fight, and my inner hipster just got laid out in the first hit. Frankly? I blame the girl who sold me my car. For taking me to a bunch of clubs I never hang out, buying me any of the drinks that WEREN'T free, oh...and having amazing tits. You have to see these things, it looks like she shoved to water balloons down her shirt. Her ass ain't half bad either. Dude, she's hot, I want it. I...have...to have it!
--I'm such a gigantic prick. All talk. I seriously am.