Thursday, June 29, 2006

"Sometimes I doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion"

Internet banner ads. They may very well be a scourge to my existence. Or not. Not at all. Generally I don't look at them I guess. But every once in a while, one will catch my eye, usually because it is flashing bright colors, and well, I like shiny things. Anyways, the other day one in particular caught my eye. It had a caricaturized picture of George W. Bush (who actually looks like a caricature himself without caricaturization, but that is a whole other blog unto itself. well, like a three sentence blog at the very least, speaking on my general amusement at having a President who is monkey like in appearance and says things that I believe monkeys might say if they could talk...phenomenal) and then a large blinking "YES" and "NO". Evidently, as was spelled out in smaller text, people were supposed to vote, either yes or no, and by doing so, could then receive a free dinner for two to the Olive Garden. So, somehow the Olive Garden will give you free meals simply by voicing your opinion of the President. And to think, I never knew there was a hidden agenda behind their breadsticks and salad. Now I know. It really is a restaurant founded by the Gallup Pollsters, and by the waitstaff there asking casual questions like, "How is your garlic marinara chicken?", they are really asking "How do you feel about H RES 794, a bill recognizing the 17th anniversary of the massacre in Tiananmen Square, Beijing, in the People's Republic of China, and for other purposes?" So, watch out.

The other day, for some reason, I found myself watching a high quality soap opera on Telemundo. Unfortunately, I do not speak Spanish, but I found the show highly entertaining and hope to inadvertently watch it again in the near future. Here is a brief summary of the excitement that you may have missed on whatever the hell show I watched. (I think it was called "Frijoles Loco" or something...and please, don't correct me if I'm wrong)

So, in the first scene Juan was just walking in the forest, and then was suddenly being held at knifepoint by a ninja. All this before the credits for the show even went by. Then we are cut to a scene of old wise Pablo (with equally thick eyebrows and mustache) entertaining a few people in his fine mansion and drinking some very fine tequila with them. They then discuss something happiness inducing until one of the three women there says something that angers Pablo greatly (at this point I am just WAITING for a ninja to appear) and causes him to furrow his eyebrows such that it looks like they are going to fall off. After some emphatic gesturing towards the woman, she leaves, crying. Then we go back to the ninja attacked Juan, and suddenly, whammo, Juan remembers he's packing and pulls out his gun! what a retard. Pretty much, as a general rule of mine, when being attacked by a ninja and I have a gun, I will then shoot the aforementioned ninja. So then there is all that going on. Then we go back to the drunken old man and his lady friends. They all seem rather discouraged and I believe Pablo has a drinking problem judging by the looks that he is getting from the women as he pours more liquor from the waterford decanter into his glass. Either they are giving those looks, or there drawn on eyebrows are making me incorrectly gauge their emotions. Eyebrows=Important. This was all I was able to view, but you can understand my excitement at hoping I get to watch this show again.

Yesterday, while watching the NBA Draft predraft thingy (sweet lord I use some descriptive language...thingy), they commentators were discussing some player and one of them then used the phrase "I'm not quite sure I'm ready to drink the Kool-Aid on this guy yet." And I was just like whoa. Are they reaching that far for phrases now that as a way to express uncertainty about something, this man is referring to a cult suicide? Wow. If you have no idea what I am talking about, I'll include a link and then you can read about it and understand what I am saying when I use this phrase, cuz you best believe it is getting thrown into my lexicon. (http://www.infoplease.com/spot/jonestown1.html the Kool-Aid part is at the bottom, then you'll get it)

Earlier today a co-worker and myself were discussing our departure plans for the weekend, and I told him I was leaving after we got off work at noon and I stopped at home to get my dog. He replied by saying "Yeah, I'm doing that too, but I just have to stop at home and get Ann. I'm not even going to go inside, she's just going to bring everything down. I guess that is one more reason why a wife is better than a dog." Ummm, yeah, chalk that one up to the list of how a human can possibly be better than a dog. So, I thought of making a brief list, and hopefully everyone can add to it, their thoughts of why wives may in fact, be superior to pet dogs. (please note I do not have, nor have I ever had a wife, so this is all speculation)

1. They can carry things to your car when you are going on a road trip and you don't have to go inside to get them.
2. Rather than crapping on your lawn, they poop in a toilet (if you are lucky)
3. They can cook YOU dinner, instead of you having to keep smelly crap around that you have to put in a bowl for them a couple times a day.
4. Wives can express themselves verbally. Dogs, not so much.
5. Wives leave it up to mild clues and tiny hints that they are upset. Dogs wag their tails, urinate, and do other such things to indicate their mood. ADVANTAGE DOGS!

Seriously party people, add some of your own to the list. And comment. Or else I can just keep all this stuff to a witty inner dialogue. Extremely witty at that.

Monday, June 19, 2006

"Rabbits can't cut they own hair...that's CRAZY"

Dear Tim: Should I keep in touch with my ex-auto mechanic?

Tim: Aw hell no. That is one bad idea. This is the guy who knows all about the fluids, care and general state of your automobile. What are the two of you really going to talk about once he's doing all that kind of stuff with other cars and not with yours? Oils, lubricants and how well the brakes work just won't have the same comfort level anymore.

Did you end the relationship or did he? Because if he ended it, and he's not retiring, you know all he's doing is looking under even more hoods now, overhauling more transmissions and generally forgetting your piece of shit car.

If you ended it, how much more awkward could it get? What are you going to bring up? New things that your new auto repair guy does to your car that you enjoy more? Or things that he does differently you never really thought of? Basically, you need to just move on.

I was inspired to write this because whenever I login to my hotmail account, there are links to these little articles, but they always only include the first few words of the title, like, "Should you keep in touch with your...". One day, I was for some reason really hoping it was about keeping in touch with your ex-auto mechanic. It was merely an (exhaust) pipe dream I guess. And yes, I am, in fact, cornier that the state of Nebraska.

Sometimes, when I am walking on some surface that allows footprints to be left (like sand, snow, etc.) or if I hate someone and have muddy footprints, I try and walk in really bizarre patterns to either throw people off or make them wonder what the hell kind of strange gait I possessed. Really, it is one of my favorite things to do. Like go with a giant step with a drag of one foot proceeded by a slithery S shape with the next foot. By then, people will be wondering not only how you walk, but what the hell kind of creature you are. And when you eventually commit that crime that you are bound to committ, CSI will be so thrown off that they won't be able to just plug you into their footstep database and figure out it was you right away (well they wouldn't be able to figure it out right away if you hadn't signed your name on the wall after hearing how all great criminals had a "signature", not knowing this was meant to be a beacon for something creative you did at each of your crime scenes rather than an actual autograph).

The other day I was discussing with someone what superhero they would most like to be, and while I opted for the obvious of Superman (what did you expect me to say, something boring like The Green Lantern?) he opted for The Flash because of all the "bets you could win". For some reason my mind automatically pictured The Flash playing normal casino games like blackjack and roulette, thus leaving me totally perplexed as to how his super speed would be helpful at all. I think the person who I was talking to saw my confusion and explained what they had obviously meant, but I have not ceased thinking about the sheer nonsense in the idea of The Flash playing roulette and due to his Flashness, thinking he had some sort of advantage.

This past weekend was a tad out of hand. Two Cubs games, two nights out, lots of drinking and many funny times and fun moments. Like when we were out for Joe's birthday on Saturday night and someone ordered shots of Chambord and I for some reason mistook them for saying "Jeff Gordon" (I have no idea how this happened) and for the rest of the evening I was clamoring for more Jeff Gordon. It was simply whelming. I really did myself this weekend.



Thursday, June 15, 2006

I think I know what you mean, but watch what you say

Try walking into conversations at bars with that one. Or just saying it over and over again when you are talking to someone. It will lead them to believe they have offended you or your heritage in some way and frighten them to ask what you mean. Or you might end up fighting someone to the death. Speaking of which, two all too frightening and common utterances of mine lately have been, "Do you want to fight to the death?", and "I'll murder your family". Of course, both are said in jest, I do not desire to fight anyone to the death nor will I murder anyone's family. Luckily I must say it with a humorous tone as no one has been too offended as of yet, nor have I fought anyone to the death. But, being in Chicago, I am scared I might say this to the wrong eye-talian person when I am drinking some night and end up getting killed in a fight to the death by a bunch of angry men with aluminum bats.

So anyways, I have some linguistics for everyone to ponder. Think about, laugh at, urinate towards, whatever. For this gay ass blog I had literally at least seven post it notes with shit scribbled on it to write about....funny shit, I think. But some of my notes I just don't quite get. I'm off track again. So, words and phrases and humor are my intention, yet my mind seems to have a one track focus on working in some weird reference to insects. I probably should not go out on anymore Wednesday nights.

The phrase "you really outdid yourself". Can someone, rather than outdoing themself, just do themself? Will I ever, in serious company, be able to say this without laughing really hard and pretending like I thought it was an actual phrase.

"Oh this dinner is good. You really did yourself." Why the hell can't that work? If they outdid themself, which if you say it enough or type it enough starts to sound bizarre anyways, they should be able to do themselves. Man law.

Same thing with the word "overwhelmed". Can someone just be whelmed? I say fuck yeah. It just means that I am neither overly impressed or unimpressed. (right now, I am thinking, goddamn, my family full of english gurus who already love mocking my making up of words and lack of verbal whatnot, are going to have a field day with this crap....oh well). Everyone start being whelmed with shit, and pronto. I'll start the revolution, like the Che Guevara of meaningless words that no one really cares about.

The phrase "if you will", well when people say that, do you really have a choice of not? Can you say, "No I won't" or an enthusiastic "Oh, I will". For instance when someone is talking and says something like "So I was walking down the avenue, if you will, and...." that's when I would be a complete dick and throw in a "NO I WON'T"....then when everyone was really confused as to what the hell I was talking about, I would have to walk away and probably have a drink. Not that I wouldn't be drinking already.

A couple more things:
1)Shut the hell up, I owe you nothing. I know I may have promised the best blog in the history of the world (or at least of the day) but I still have yet to overcome my general disdain for typing. I really need to voice record my thoughts and have someone type them up. Or just have a direct connection to my mind, but then everyone would be frightened at what came out on the screen. Like 45 billion random thoughts a minute. Like one second thinking about how cool pterodactyls were, and the next pondering why people think hot air balloons are cool, then thinking about a funny time in third grade.
2)Don't do that.

Let me know what you want to hear. I will talk about it. And let me know if you want to be my typist.

TASTY.

Friday, June 09, 2006

MEXICO: DAY 4: ARMAGEDDON



As I arose on the 4th day of our trip, well rested from an evening of general nothingness, I noticed the sun was shining hotter than it had, the birds were swooping closer to people's heads, the cleaning staff were generally more agressive, and people were not moving out of my way when I walked straight at them (this has long been a tactic of mine...I don't mind a collision, it is sort of like a slow pedestrian game of chicken, and usually, given my physical stature, I win. Sure, I have not won when I run into some 35o pound man who is searching out the funnel cake at whichever crowded venue I have been walking, but usually things turn out okay). This was going to be a frightening day, I could just tell.

Alright, truthfully, I had no clue what the day would hold, nor did I really see any of these foreboding signs. My life is slightly cinematic, but when I am writing the screenplay about it, I will definitely have to add some shit to make it more exciting, like explosions and transgendered actors.

So, as was the usual routine, we went and ate breakfast and people discussed their plans for the day. Thankfully, finally people had likewise abandoned the beach, where the sun could beat down upon you with some extra solar "flare" and cause 4th degree burns all over your previously pale body....errrr.....yeah. So everyone wanted to go to the pool. Terrific. So, we went to the pool, and Bell and I began the drinking for the day. I figured, last day, what the heck, might as well start early. So, I began with a strawberry daquiri, and it was quite delicious, and I thought, well I might as well keep drinking these for the rest of the morning time. It will be refreshing, relaxing, resin-filled, and other r words. So, after the first one, I got another strawberry daquiri. By this time, Matt and Kevin had joined our drinking expedition, with Matt informing me that he was going to get "wasted" that day. And, we also began a 4 man drink system. Everytime someone went to the bar in the pool they were to return with 4 drinks. So, after my two delicious strawberry drinks and Matt's declaration of achieving wastedness, I for some idiotic reason decided it was time to switch to my mainstay- the good old Jim Beam and Coke. So, switch I did. Luckily, neither bartender who had disdain in his heart for my liver was working yet at the early morning hour. All the same, I began consuming these powerful libations with a zeal generally reserved for contests of some sort, like that used by Kobiyashi when he eats all those damn hot dogs.

Within probably an hour, I was ten or so drinks into my day (this is deceiving because the cups they used were probably only like 8 ounce cups....these were not huge drinks), and five minutes or so into underwater breakdancing, discussions of going into the center of the water aerobics class occurring in the pool (they were in a huge circle), and hiding our groups now impressive tower of cups underwater whenever the pool guy came by to collect them. I was also having trouble maintaining balance while keeping the majority of my body underwater to avoid too much sun, and singing quite loudly.

At some point, orange bikini and her sister, pink bikini, arrived to lounge by the pool, seated no more than about 100 feet away from us. So I began talking, ummm, to is not the correct word, I was definitely talking at them, or actually yelling in their general direction. "HI. ARE YOU GUYS SISTERS OR WHAT? YOU WANT TO HANG OUT OR SOMETHING? CAN I GET YOU A DRINK?" And five minutes or so into it, I began to respond for them, "OH? YOU DO WANT TO HANG OUT, BUT AFTER GETTING SOME MORE SUN? TERRIFIC. YEAH, I'M NOT TOO HIGH ON THE SUN RIGHT NOW. YEAH I GUESS I CAN WAIT. DON'T WORRY I WON'T LEAVE." At that point in my drunkenness, there is no way of knowing if I was serious about this, or if I was just trying to entertain those around me. Matt also began using the best line ever, "Have you met my friend Tim?", said in the general direction of any woman that passed by, and as Matt did not have his glasses on, some men as well I think.

So the drinking continued. It was big fun. Then the speedo adorned pool activity dude asked us if we wanted to play some water volleyball. I told him "No, we just really want to drink." But then he came back and asked again, and I told him we would only play if he gave me his Ray-Bans. So, he did, and thus we ended up playing some pool volleyball. There were maybe four or five of us from the group out there, but all the rest of the people we did not know. But they quickly became acquainted with me and my loud shouts of "boo-yeah" and my Jekyll/Hyde type play on the court. First of all, I was a huge dick and kept trying to hit basically every ball. Secondly, I would sometimes make phenomenal spikes and blocks, while other times playing my typical volleyball style of nearly maiming people really far away in strange directions that no person in their right mind could expect the ball to travel. So, it was as if I was both the best and worst player on my team at the same time. Except for this damn guy from Canada. He really did maim someone on the other team with a shot right to the side of her head while simply giving them the ball so they could serve. And, given my slight or extreme intoxication, I was quite loud. My presence was felt. Unfortunately we had left the shady spot in the pool and my shoulders were now out of the water. I could feel them burning and began screaming things like "OH GOD I FEEL THE SKIN CANCER" and then frantically splashing water on my shoulders. Eventually everyone grew tired either o my antics or of the volleyball, and we decided to get back to drinking.

Then it was time to eat lunch. Again, I ended up with some of the most random foods on my plate that only a drunkard would wish to combine. Something like some pieces of iceberg lettuce, an intricately carved, decorative piece of some gourd, a hot dog, and some feta cheese.....I mean seriously, I don't even like that food. Then, it was back to drinking in the pool. It was our last day of vacation, so seriously, why hold back? Not that I really have much of a holding back speed. As the day wore on, we lost some members of the expedition, as I recall. But eventually Matt and I were still drinking at some point in the late afternoon and we went over to the pool bar to sit around in the shade of it and just drink there. Who was working but none other than Leo, one of the bartenders who wished to cause immediate liver decay. I saw this, and being six to seven sheets to the wind already, tried to hide and whispered to Matt that I would just like a strawberry daquiri. The pool bar had columns at the corners and I had ducked down behind one, nearly underwater to avoid being seen by Leo. Unfortunately he peeked around the corner and said, "Ken-too-key! Beam and Coke?" It's like I really made this guys day. And then it was like he really made me something that was not a Beam and Coke, but rather a cup of Jim Beam with ice and the mere good intention of a drop or two of Coke. This was the first of maybe three of these I consumed. And although I complained and made whiney, three year old type noises, I drank them. Then proceeded to go to the other side of the pool and just start "talking" to people. By talking I mean, go into the center of the pool near no one in particular and just start yelling in the general direction of people. And I think actually talking to people that Matt had "Have you my my friend Tim?"ed. And then at some point some people that had made my acquaintance (and I think by the end of the day, everyone in the pool probably knew who I was...you can't really miss the large, drunken, red man yelling strange ass shit) by way of Matt's phrase were like "Yeah, we have met Tim" so then Matt offered them high fives. It was all too funny.

Then, everyone departed to their rooms to clean up before dinner. I never really made it back out of my room, in fact. I was totally gone. I laid around being drunk and sunburnt, evidently tripped over a water bottle on my way to answer the door at some point (with a fantastic crashing noise and laughter by those on both sides of the door), was delivered food by Christi and Bell and just laid around. It was basically great. Everyone was going out to one of the bars on the resort and I eventually showered and aimed to meet them, but by the time I finally fell out of my room at like 11:45, I ran into Christi and Bell on their way back and then returned to their room for some Office Space viewing and eventual sleep in my own bed.

The next day we left. It was a long day of travel but we returned. It was an awesome trip. I am sure I left out a lot. But when that much drinking is involved, stuff gets left out. My bad. Out.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

MEXICO, DAY 3

Day 2 of this fine journey was a little rough on me, I am not going to fib. Thus the next day, I woke up after a restless night of sleep, sunburned and weary of drinking so early in the morning. I must mention, however, the brilliant programming of the televisions in Mexico. The FOX station played The Simpsons for about six hours in a row every evening, with random intermittent epsiodes of Malcolm in the Middle. Then random infomercials for Jack Lalanne's Power Juicer would come on, and this is a man for whom I believe was an inspiration for Martin Short's character on Arrested Development of "Uncle Jack", and if you watch the show, you know the hilarity involved. So, here I am all drunk and delriously tired waking up to see this man on an infomercial in Mexico....high comedy. Alright, now that aside is aside, on to the tale of Day 3....Saturday.

I woke up and went to dine with everyone else, on this day refraining from drinking until "at least 11" (I know it sounds very extreme when I put it that way) and eating a complete breakfast. As I mentioned my sunburn I had also grown some spite for the muy caliente Mexican sun and wished to not be in it all day. So although everyone else was headed directly for the beach, I decided I needed to go for a run. So, I returned to the room, put on my running shoes and other appropriate clothes, grabbed my mp3 player and headed down to the beach. Obvious statement ensues: After nights of drinking and extreme sun exposure, the already arduous task of running on the beach is even more difficult, and death might potentially feel imminent at several points during the run. So I ran for a good long jaunt down the beach, and returned to our resort area, quite sweaty and feeling rather mortal. Then it was time to go throw on the trunks and play some frisbee in the ocean. So that I did, but only after applying what seemed like at least seven gallons of sunscreen. I did not aspire to burn the burn. After maybe one hour of frisbee or so, Bell and I decided it was too hot at the beach, and more importantly, we needed to drink.

So, we walked to the bar above the pool, sat on the shady veranda and drank some fine Coronas, which actually tasted quite good. More of our group joined us and before I knew it I was back in the pool drinking Beam and Cokes. I guess it was more a matter of facilitation that I began drinking these drinks. When one person in the group went to get drinks, it would always be easy to remember to grab at least one of these, and possibly two depending on how quickly I was drinking. Ummm yeah...I was a drunken facilitator. Also, this was the day orange bikini girl and her seemingly younger sister showed up. She was a cute girl, and she comes into play further on Day 4. So then we went and ate lunch, once again at the buffet near the beach, and I consumed whatever the hell looked decent to eat...nachos....pizza...chicken nuggets...salsa that was way too spicy yet I never learned not to gloop on everything....you know the deal

After this I laid around in the room for a long while, napping and watching movies. Then Darrell returned to the room and I suggested we head down to the pool and we did. At first, we were the only two down there, but then Matt, Lisa and Adam appeared out of nowhere and next thing I knew we were back at the damn bar in the pool, at which point Adam suggested that I get drunk with him. But, he was not the only one at fault for my pre dinner drunkeness that fine evening. None other than Adrian the bartended was working the pool bar. So I always had a Jim and Coke in my hand for the next couple hours, and due to the prescence of friends chanting "more! more! more!" while he poured the whiskey in my drink, I ended up with some pretty potent drinks. Adam also ordered a Long Island which came to be known as "bee repellent" since with all the sticky drinks in the area, there were quite a few bees, but this drink was so strong they definitely stayed away once this drink sat there, and I believe a couple bees even died. Anywho, I ended up getting wasted, and once again before dinner. Yet I still remembered dinner that night....so...uhhh....bonus?

That night we had made reservations at the resort for the one place that you had to have a reservation- the Brazilian style steakhouse place. For those of you not familiar with the Brazilian steakhouse principle, you eat meat until your body begins rejecting it. So we went to this place, ate lots of meat and whatnot, and then decided we were going to Senor Frogs in downtown Puerto Vallerta. So, around nine (more drinking and more drinking all the while) we left for this frog place. Unfortunately no one informed us that until about 11 o'clock, kids are allowed in the place, and in fact, the place is filled with them. Tiny ass kids bumping and grinding....it is actually quite disturbing. Luckily we were unfazed and everyone began getting buckets of beer like quasi cool people purchasing Oakleys. At some point, the wee tots cleared out and the place got really unbelievably packed (with all legally aged people) and then got very sweaty. But at least it was more fun once the mini humans left and brought their creepy reminders of 4th grade with them.

We got a cab home, which ended up being a wild adventure in which we nearly ended up at Domino's Pizza (who the hell knew there even was one?) and then returned to the resort for a nightcap of some White Russians and some phenomenal sleep.

Day 3. Done. But Day 4 may have been the wildest of them all.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

MEXICO, DAY 2

If you have already read Day 1 and you are thinking, "Well, the bar has been set too high. The rest of the trip probably sucked." And if you are thinking that, I am thinking about laughing in your face. I am like a high jumper capable of jumping 80" over the bar, and Day 1 was only set at 6". So, yeah.

Day 2, we woke up and convened for breakfast and to discuss the goings on of the previous night. Strangely, I kept hearing people talk about me and my fountain escapade. To me, all it was was a drunk man who was quite warm trying to cool down. Not really anything to write home about. Of course, due to my requirement of keeping it tasty like a job (one that I care about, and try at), I located a beer dispenser in the dining area, one that gave out Negro Modelo. So, I grabbed a glass and made sure my day would be fun, at all of 9:30 in the morning. Upon returning to the table, most people thought I had some raunchy apple juice. "No," I calmly explained, "this is beer." They laughed, and still just thought it was apple juice (well only the people on the trip who didn't know me very well....and Darrell, an impossible skeptic). But, I was definitely drinking beer. Which, in retrospect, was an awful idea. Especially if I had the intention of remembering eating dinner.

Then, we all headed down to the beach for some delicious frisbee playing in the ocean. Unfortunately my SPF 15 was not aware of this and decided to quit working after 20-30 seconds. But, I am cursed with pale Irish-German skin, and as far as I know, the only way I ever develop any color is too first get a fine red base. lUckily I accomplished this quite well by being the water for so long tossing around the frisbee. After possibly an hour or so, Bryan Bell and I decided (which, by the way, Bryan kept with a quite excellent philosophy of not drinking anything sans alcohol the entire trip......exemplary....exemplary) that it was time to truly begin the day. Of course, we had both consumed some beers at breakfast that morning. So, it was back to no other bar then the bar in the pool. And this is when I learned of one of my worst interactions of the trip. I had befriended, or evidently, amused a bartender.

As we approached the bar in the pool to order some lowkey, it is 11:00 in the morning and I am drinking drinks, one of the bartenders says, "Kentucky!....Beam and Coke?" When someone you don't even remember meeting says your name AND calls out your drink, it is well known that it is pretty much a requirement to consume that drink. Fuck me. At that point the Beam and Cokes began flowing. Luckily I am a whiskey and Coke consuming juggernaut and really have no problem drinking them at the same rate as everyone else in the group consumed their beers and various other fruity drinks. The great thing about having a specific drink that bartenders and friends identify you with, is that you really never have to even say what you want. People just know. But they really have no idea. Which led to them having an enjoyable time and me being quite wasted. Which led to them having an even more enjoyable time as I began my shift into "Extreme Entertainment Tim".....doing things like talking to strangers, Goulet-ing, and breakdancing underwater. Unfortunately, this day was much more subdued than it would be later in the trip.....or fortunately however you wish to look at it.

At some point we went and ate lunch....I think once again I ended up with some strange combo of tortilla chips, chunks of meat, and chicken nuggets on my plate. And I consumed it all. Then I resumed (although resumed is the wrong word to use when I never ceased drinking) some fine drinking in the pool. There isn't really too much to talk about for the entire afternoon. I was wasted, suburnt, and being my typical entertaining self. I am sure others could chip in more intimate details, but this is my perspective of the story, and I am giving all the detail I possibly can.

At some point, we returned to our rooms for a brief rest and Christi was kind or unkind enough to give me my first extremely wet, cold towel on my back and shoulders and aloe treatment. I say kind and unkind because she would soak the towel in icy water and then apply it to my back....and laugh the entire time at my dual misfortune of being sunburnt and then extremely cold. But then again, who really knows why the hell Christi is laughing 3/4 of the time.

I believe this was the day that I was so intoxicated in the mid-day that I ended up passing out for quite some time, went and robotically and drunkenly consumed dinner and then had no desire to go out. The combo of drinking, sun and not much sleep in the previous 50 hour period had finally caught up to me. I am sure there are countless details I am leaving out from this day, strange, hilarity filled things that I did, but I will have to wait until I post this and am better informed of such stories prior to writing about them. So, eventually I went out to one of the bars where everyone was, had maybe one drink, and then snuck off to the beach where the chairs still remained, and just laid around gazing at the stars and relaxing. Some people on the trip looked at vacation the wrong way and were constantly in disbelief at my laying around or lack of activity, as I napped an watched many movies and stuff the entire trip. But when I am on vacation, unless I am hanging out with X games friends or something, I would prefer to live the life of choosing to whatever the hell I want. It is the best. I don't typically have time set aside in my normal day to consume a shit ton of liquor and then just lay around in an air conditioned room and watch crappy films. Normally I require decent films. That is Day 2. Day 3 coming soon. I promise. And a regular blog is brewing and should be one of the best you have ever read. Especially since that Sean Hannity blog does not offer all that much in the way of wit.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

MEXICO, DAY 1


Let me break down Mexico for you in just a couple words….alright it will be more than a couple, I’ll just say a few. I will attempt to give the most descriptive, showy, blasphemous storytelling presentation ever now. But due to many of the activities in which I was partaking, you will probably get, even with my skilled storytelling ability, about 20-25% of every story. But hey, it was worth it. Although my liver, who is evidently union, is still picketing outside my house…which I’ll admit, does suck quite a bit, but at least the other organs were willing to cross the line.

DAY 1

Day One actually began on the night before day one, which was Wednesday night. I had packed my bags and headed over to Matt and Lisa’s, who would be providing me with transportation to the airport along with them at 4am the next morning. But of course I did not show up empty handed, nor did I have any desire to sleep for some scant amount of time before going to the airport. So, I had 24 beers and a mission: to stay awake all night drinking and get Matt to as well. Missions accomplished. We drank quite a few beers, played video games, and were the models for Lisa’s gesture drawing class. I fell asleep for about ten seconds, in which time, as Matt said, “You drooled on your collarbone.” Well-played Matt. I know. But I was drunk and had been awake for about 20 hours; so some drooling was bound to happen. Then we departed, and after various car journeys and various phone messages for some, we arrived at the airport. Our first flight was a quick one to Denver and I could get no one to drink with me on that brief journey, maybe because it was like 7am. But, on the flight to Mexico, I did indeed consume a couple margaritas, but not alone, as I am sure even though no one else in my traveling group was drinking, some others on the plane had to have been drinking.

Finally, we reached Mexico, and even getting off the plane was…..well….more Mexican. Many of us were seated in the back of the plane, and all of a sudden a little man pops up and says, “Well, are you getting off or what?” as he gestured at the now open backdoor with a staircase leading down from it. Right Mexican airport worker, because we are so used to debarking by way of the backdoor down a staircase. Then we went through customs that consisted of such fun activities of pushing a button where a green light would go off. We had many ideas as to why we did this, but most of them were shot down when we were not required to press a button when leaving the country that would then emit a red light.

We then took a bus to our resort, where all guests were ushered into a welcome room. In this room they had drinks set out for us, drinks for which I loudly inquired, “Do these have alcohol in them?”. Sadly the answer was no, but the woman doing the hotel introductions got an idea about the tastiness of our group and made sure to highlight the many bars and drinking activities as well as the importance of wearing the wristabnd with the name of the resort on it which we could wave a cab drivers if we passed out in a gutter in the city. Anywho, luckily Matt’s sister Christi had a flask of tequila and our previously non-alcoholic welcoming drinks now had a zesty kick to them.

At this point, our rooms were still not ready, but we were encouraged to go eat some food at one of the four restaurants on the resort (which we soon found all consisted of buffets with very similar foods, but luckily I am not an epicurean of any sort and I did not travel to Mexico to sample worldly foods….let’s be serious). I got some food on a plate and set about to find one of the many aforementioned bars. I found one, ordered two rum and cokes and let the tastiness continue, as everyone else marveled at my ability to find liquor. Not that challenging on a resort with like 8 bars.

Now we were finally able to check into our rooms. I was rooming with Darrell, who of the other three non-coupled people in our group on the journey. The rooms were very nice and the nicest part of them was the fully stocked mini bars. And since this was an all inclusive, you did not have to worry in the least about drinking whatever you wanted. There was a dispenser with a full bottle of tequila, rum, vodka, and gin and a mini fridge full of Coronas, Pepsi, 7-Up and bottled water. So, pretty much, awesome.

We quickly changed into pool and pool bar drinking clothes and joined everyone down by the pool. By this point, I am rewasted, and have not slept in like 40 hours. Then, everyone else wants to get wasted too. And then it got a little wild in that beautiful bar located in the swimming pool, which, by the way, is a brilliant feature to life. I want bars anywhere else I can be comfortable. By my bed, at the back massage place…you get the idea. So everyone got wasted…I think. The rest of the story for this day, I remember somewhat, but was more or less told.

We went and showered and changed clothes prior to eating dinner. Once at dinner, which was once again at some buffet style place, I proceeded to get a plate full of nasty foods that do not go together and started throwing them around at people. Then I followed Christi to the buffet and got what she got and slopped it together on my plate, and somehow ate it all.

We then proceeded to this outdoor stage area where there was some sort of show for the people of the resort going on. I got some beers at a nearby bar, and proceeded to walk, in front of the stage, nearly on to the stage, and wave at all my friends in the back of the crowd…a crowd of about 100 people, mind you. Darrell said that my escapades back and forth in front of the stage were evidently to talk to a girl, who I may or may not have spoken to, as he said it was too far away for him to see, and I don’t really recall. This is not really black out drunkenness, but rather the effects of no sleep and mucho drinking. The black outs occurred later in the trip.
After I was asked to leave the area by some sort of resort employee, I proceeded to go…yep….in the fountain. I was in the fountain swimming around and doing God knows what for apparently half an hour. And, there are pictures, although I have yet to see any of them. Then I wished to lay down on the grass outside the fountain, at which time people decided to attempt to throw purses and sandals at my crotch, which I was wise enough to cover. Who said people don’t learn from their mistakes? After this amusing time, I was trying to go back to sleep in my room, all the while forgetting that my room key did not work and only D’s did. So, I laid down on Bell and Christi’s floor, soaking wet, well prepared to sleep on the tile that night. Somehow, I was let into my room and woke up in my bed the next morning.