Straight Tequilla Night
Well, Tonight I break down and finally write a new post.
I was waiting for Mayor to write on first, but after 13 days (and counting) she has yet to flinch. YOU HEAR THAT .MRS.MAYOR OF FIST CITY! YOU WIN! DAMN YOU!
I don't have much going on, bet ya get sick of hearing that one, but it's true! I did procure a treadmill. So now instead of physical therapy twice a week I can supplement it with relaxing walks on the hamsterwheel. I been lifting weights too...but that is another story.
Speaking of stories...
I am feverishly trying to come up with a good one to tell you...have been for days now. All I can manage to squeeze out of my mellon is an episode I like to call "My Straight Tequilla Night".
I was kindofa spoiled kid. I got a truck for my 15th birthday. It really wasn't mine though til I was 16, but when that magic day finally came, you couldn't keep me home! For a spell the Mayor of Fist City resided with me and it was cool...until we each had an entire bottle of champagne and she says (and I do not remember this) that I told her I wanted her to move out. If I did say it, and I'm not saying I did, it was the Cooks talking, thats all I can I say.
Anywho, back to the Mayor. So there was this older boy, one of our friends brothers, we called him FatBack Donnie Porker. He would buy us booze in hopes of getting into Mayors Guess jeans when she passed out. Most times he'd buy us Boones Farm or Mad Dog 20/20 but one particular night he got us some tequilla. We went up to Crown Point out in the boondocks where the cops know the kids go to drink. I took a biggie cup from Wendy's where we all worked and filled it with 1/2 OJ and 1/2 tequilla and proceeded to drink the entire concoction in 15-20 minutes. I was hammer city in 60 seconds flat. Mayor being slightly buzzed herslef I am sure, allowed FatBack to toss my drunk ass in the back of my truck so he could have easier access to Mayors said Guess jeans.
Sidebar: Yes, it may have been mean to call him FatBack, but he was a dipshit sleaze bag and deserved it! You couldn't believe a word that fell from his disgusting mouth. Once he tried to tell us all of the stretch marks on his back and titties wer cat scratches...seriously cat scratches? WTF?
OK so here I am in the back of MY truck when F.B. tells Mayor, "SHIT! The cops are here we gotta go!" and she takes off down the winding mountain road with my shivering ass rolling around the back of MY truck. Slamming back and forth into the sides with every turn. NOT COOL. Thats not even the worst part.
SO I am jolted awake by one of the carefuly calculated turns Mayor makes on our descent home and I think to myself, I say "Self, you need to puke." So I hang my head out the canopy window and hurl...over and over and over. Thankfully back then I had good control over my bowels and did not shit my pants for if this were to happen tomorrow...poop fest '06 guarenteed. Mayor made an especially sharp turn and I was throw back into the truck, where I proceeded to finish barfing all over myself. It was in my hair, all over my clothes. Nasty. I don't remember when or where we stopped, maybe she does, all I remember is cleaning the vomit off of my truck the next day. One of many vomit cleansing episodes I was to experience in my teen years. Most are all blurred together, but that one stands out in my memories the most...
And that is why I can not even smell teKILLya to this day. No sir, I don't like it.
I was waiting for Mayor to write on first, but after 13 days (and counting) she has yet to flinch. YOU HEAR THAT .MRS.MAYOR OF FIST CITY! YOU WIN! DAMN YOU!
I don't have much going on, bet ya get sick of hearing that one, but it's true! I did procure a treadmill. So now instead of physical therapy twice a week I can supplement it with relaxing walks on the hamsterwheel. I been lifting weights too...but that is another story.
Speaking of stories...
I am feverishly trying to come up with a good one to tell you...have been for days now. All I can manage to squeeze out of my mellon is an episode I like to call "My Straight Tequilla Night".
I was kindofa spoiled kid. I got a truck for my 15th birthday. It really wasn't mine though til I was 16, but when that magic day finally came, you couldn't keep me home! For a spell the Mayor of Fist City resided with me and it was cool...until we each had an entire bottle of champagne and she says (and I do not remember this) that I told her I wanted her to move out. If I did say it, and I'm not saying I did, it was the Cooks talking, thats all I can I say.
Anywho, back to the Mayor. So there was this older boy, one of our friends brothers, we called him FatBack Donnie Porker. He would buy us booze in hopes of getting into Mayors Guess jeans when she passed out. Most times he'd buy us Boones Farm or Mad Dog 20/20 but one particular night he got us some tequilla. We went up to Crown Point out in the boondocks where the cops know the kids go to drink. I took a biggie cup from Wendy's where we all worked and filled it with 1/2 OJ and 1/2 tequilla and proceeded to drink the entire concoction in 15-20 minutes. I was hammer city in 60 seconds flat. Mayor being slightly buzzed herslef I am sure, allowed FatBack to toss my drunk ass in the back of my truck so he could have easier access to Mayors said Guess jeans.
Sidebar: Yes, it may have been mean to call him FatBack, but he was a dipshit sleaze bag and deserved it! You couldn't believe a word that fell from his disgusting mouth. Once he tried to tell us all of the stretch marks on his back and titties wer cat scratches...seriously cat scratches? WTF?
OK so here I am in the back of MY truck when F.B. tells Mayor, "SHIT! The cops are here we gotta go!" and she takes off down the winding mountain road with my shivering ass rolling around the back of MY truck. Slamming back and forth into the sides with every turn. NOT COOL. Thats not even the worst part.
SO I am jolted awake by one of the carefuly calculated turns Mayor makes on our descent home and I think to myself, I say "Self, you need to puke." So I hang my head out the canopy window and hurl...over and over and over. Thankfully back then I had good control over my bowels and did not shit my pants for if this were to happen tomorrow...poop fest '06 guarenteed. Mayor made an especially sharp turn and I was throw back into the truck, where I proceeded to finish barfing all over myself. It was in my hair, all over my clothes. Nasty. I don't remember when or where we stopped, maybe she does, all I remember is cleaning the vomit off of my truck the next day. One of many vomit cleansing episodes I was to experience in my teen years. Most are all blurred together, but that one stands out in my memories the most...
And that is why I can not even smell teKILLya to this day. No sir, I don't like it.