E R N I E ' S H O U S E O F W H O O P A S S
I am a Great Big Pussy (GBP).
Please allow me to tell you my tale of Pussiness.
This year, the 2001st revolution around the sun, I spent Labor Day with the Puddyhog and Canadian Jay boozing up a storm. This part I remember. Even met a very attractive girll names Carolyn (that's my interpretatiuon of the spelling of her name) that I promised I"d go skydiving with. But alas, these statements lead you to believe that yea, Im am The Man. The Hunter Gatherer of All Time (HGoAT).
But alas, that would be misleading you. Because in fact, I am a GBP. Please bear with me whilest I relive the last 24 hours of my life and explain.
5:07 -- I am running late. I arrive in Easton, MA an hour late to be more precise, but am carrying my signature Box'o'Booze, so hope that makes ammends for my tardiness. (tardiness...not tardness...that comes later)
5:13 -- I am introduced to everyone, many of which are fans of EHOWA, and many of which are drunk already. This is my kinda place.
5:15 -- Feeling that I have some catching up to do, I begin drinking Sam Adams at record pace. Puddy is in the military still, so we reminise by proxy all the good times that we never had with each other.
6:00 -- Canadian Jay decides we're all going to shotgun a beer for prosperity's sake. I kid you not when I say I have never shotgunned a beer before. Funnelled yes, but never shotgunned. There are seven of us doing it, on camera. I finish first. I am The Man, the Alpha Male (tAM). People bow before me. People ask me my secret. I just smile and tell them my dad's part Irish. (If you're luck enough to be Irish, you're lucky enough already.)
6:03 -- Realizing that I'm gonna get fucked up fast at this pace, I eat a hamburger to get some food in my stomach. This is the only bit of food I've had all day, as I woke up with a hangover from the night before. I now own a Playstation 2.
6:15 -- I finish my fifth beer, not to include the Bud Light that I drank as part of Shotgunapalooza.
7:00 -- Party is going well. Everyone is social, everyone gets along. This is great. Oh, shotgun time again, and yes, once again I prove that I am tAM by finishing my shotgun first. I slam down my empty beer can like last night's Israeli hooker. I coach Carolyn in this round, and get her to slam down her now empty beer can as well. People continue to bow before me, the HGoAT.
7:05 -- I feel it noteworty here to mention that I eat nothing.
07:34 -- Puddytat has to suck up to his wife after making an inappropriate comment. Men everywhere thump their chest and and declare him a Mangina.
8:00 -- Oh yes, it's that time again. Canadian Jay hands around more beers. Delicious Bud Light. Actually I'd like to mention that these beers were actually handed out by canadian Karen, Canadian Jay's girlfriend. A very sweet girl, who not only had the occasional titty hard on, but was acttually very cool to hang out with. Two good Canadians, at the same place at the same time. Surely this is a sign from God that I am The Man.
8:01 -- I come in third place in the shotguns. I would later recognize this as the beginning of the end.
8:30 -- The hosts of the part VERY responsibly collect car keys. Kudos. I wisely surrended mine without protest.
9:00 -- Oh yes. There is no escaping the Shotgun Monster. Once again the cans of delicious Bud Light make their way around the party, and once again people everywhere are sprayed with gooshed of beer as the can opener goes in. I'm not even trying to cover the spray with my hands at this point, another bad sign. The shotgun begins, and I finish 4th. This is not good.
9:40 -- During conversations with Carolyn the Substitute Teacher, we both discover that skydiving is on each of our To Do lists. I ask her if she'd like to go skydiving together sometime before September 21st (the official end of summer). She accepts. This is good.
10:00 -- Shotgun time again. This one's on camera. I forget where I placed, but I can tell you it's not first. This is the beginning of the end. This is bad.
10:30 -- I distincly remember defending the network capability of Banyan VINES. A rational person would wonder why and how the fuck I came to talk abaout a network operating system with Cyndi the State Worker. I don't know. I do know that VINES is great NOS, and vigorously defend my position. I take my second step towards GBP'ness.
11:00 -- Last shotgun that I remember. I don't finish it, I think. I remember when I threw my can down it landed with a >thud< instead of the usual empty >clank<. Things are going downhill fast. I also remember the unsuccessful attempt at making a human pyramid, which would explain the big red knot I have on my left knee.
11:05 -- The world is my oyster. I am The Man. Partygo'ers love and respect me. Chicks squirm when I enter the room. Dogs howl at my very existance. I eat shit, run rabbits, and bark at the moon. I am the Hunter Gatherer of All time.
11:06 -- I vomit in the host's bathtub. I distinctly remember this. It was dark brown. Perhaps the hambirger? Didn't taste all that bad, but very stinky.
11:30'ish -- I am in a sleeping bag in the middle of the kitchen floor. The party is still going on. It's like I'm sedated in some bad gall bladder surgery -- I can see and hear everyone but I can't move. I am a GBP.
Midnight'ish -- I hear people talking very close to me. Assumably in the kitchen as that appears to be where I'd been for the last hour or so. They are talking about how they put the Great Ernie to sleep. I am shamed.
Midnight'ish -- An attempt is made to nutsack me. For those of you unfamiliar with ther term, that's where a guy kneels down next to someone who's passed out, and then displays his nutsack for the sake of a picture -- a "your nutsack my face" kind of thing. Hence nutsacking. I muster every bit of strength and mobility to fend off this attempted nutsacking. I am successful. I can not be so sure howvere, there wasn't a successful nutsacking at a later period in time, since this is my last rational thought. I'm sure I'll see envidence to the contrary should it exist. I will post it, you have my word.
04:00 -- I wake. The house is quiet and dark. I realize I am on the living room floor, and that I am a GBP. I stand and move my bedding from the center of the kitcken (GBP) to the side of the kitchen table, more out of the way of the soon to be happening early risers.
06:00 -- There is a tap on my shoulder. Puddy and his lovely (and pregnant) wife Pam are making their departure to catch a flight back to Arizona. I once again request they promise to name the little tyke "Ernie". Pam laughs nervously and makes a b-line for the door. Very sweet girl.
06:05 -- Slumbering on the kitchen floor, I somehow feel out of place. I wake, rub my eyes, and begin to fold my bedding. it's at this point where I realize two contradicting pieces of evidence. On one hand I am well rested. This indicated that I've sletp a significant amount if time, thus indicating that I passed out early, thus indicating that I am a Great Big Pussy. On the other hand, my eyes aren't dry. I wear contact lenses and normally when I sleep in them for anything beyond a few hours, I wake with very dry and irritable eyes. My eyes are not dry and irritable now, thus indicating that i didn't pass out that early. I am confused as I peruse through the kitchen table for my keys.
06:07 -- I stumble out into the fresh morning air to begin my trek home. I thank the lucky stars for the presence of mind I had the day earlier when I bought a three-pack if Tic-Tac's when I stopped to buy booze. I slam in about 14 of them to help get the taste of harf out of my mouth.
07:10 -- I arrive home. The Tic-Tac's are all gone. I still taste puke.
07:11 -- I brush my teeth.
07:15 -- I start a fresh pot of coffee and realise that I must docutement the fact that I am not the HGoAT, but in fact a GBP.
07:31 -- Current time. I have finished two cups of coffee. I *still* taste puke.
07:32 -- I can't wait untl Puddyhog and Canadian Jay Strike Back.
[No attempt was made to spellchedk this post. I don't deserve the dignity of a well spelled email at this point. I am a GBP.]
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