An Average Thursday

If the goal in life was to be 'that obnoxiously drunk guy,' I would undoubtedly be a successful man. Unfortunately for me, the objectives in reality are far from my sphere of interests.

In my continuous quest of poor decision making, I managed to get myself kicked out of a poetry slam at the Michigan Union last evening (I'm not a homosexual, we all went to watch B-Russ slam about the McRib). A new low for me.

It all began when I was preparing to take a nap around 1 o'clock. Before I could doze off into slumber, our friendly neighborhood drunk, Chris, knocked on my door. Chris was fixated on the idea of pre-gaming for our last lecture with Juan Cole. Disregarding my plans to get a lot of work done that day, I naturally agreed to join him in pursuit of intoxication. After a short walk to our second home, Blue Front, Matt, Chris, and I began slurping down some 40's. One thing led to another, and we quickly decided that actually going to lecture wasn't something we were very interested in. Instead, we ventured back to Blue Front to purchase more 40's.

Around this time, Paul, my competitor in the struggle for position of house drunk, came home and purchased a fresh handle of the ever-scrumptious Old Crow. As it turned out, Paul and I shared a similar plight on this fine day: shortly after my expulsion from the poetry slam, Paul managed to get himself kicked out of the Blue Leprechaun. Two things indicated to me just how drunk Paul was last night: (1) The nearly empty half gallon of Old Crow and (2) Him falling down the stairs in his battle to return to his room at 6 a.m. this morn.

Anyhow, at the time of the poetry slam I was about 2 40's of CSI deep. If you've ever drank CSI before, you will have no trouble imagining how drunk I was at this point. In a moment of wise decision making, I decided to fill my flask with CSI and bring it to the slam. In yet another brilliant move, I proceeded to openly drink from the flask at the gathering. Shortly after, I was walking (or stumbling) home by myself. Unfortunately, I did not get to see B-Russ slam about the McRib. Or lesbians slamming about their problems.

At this point of my blog entry, I would like to thank my good friend Paul. Thanks for being a drunk ass like me. Because if I didn't have you to share the burden of being 'that guy,' I would certainly have a heavy burden to carry.