ShotQuest: Friday Edition

If you read the Thursday edition of my shotquest, you will understand that I am entering today's battle round with very little sleep. I am currently fuctioning on fumes; yet I am determined to persevere and slay whatever remains in my half gallon of rum (which, by the way, is in fact the worst tasting rum i have ever encountered (heaven hill)).

Unfortunately, I began to exxagerate the number of shots that I had taken as the early hours of the morn passed by today. In reality, I was pretty much just drinking mixed drinks. This puts a real damper on the quest to 40 shots. So my grand total of what was once 13 shots is now reduced to 10 shots. So today I start with number 11 (still on pace, though).

Although I'm feeling a bit under the weather currently, a surprise visit made my Matt today will certainly give me boosted energy which I can direct towards shot-guzzling. As you may recall, the last time Matt and I drank together, the night ended with each of us spray-painting our chests with greek letters. So tonight certainly promises to be a dandy.

But let's just get right to business. It's about 6:15 at the moment, and I will try and muster the fortitude to take that terrible first shot at about 7. I have already dedicated the first three shots of tonight's festivities:

11. To Matt. His unexpected arrival at our house today sent the amateurs running for the hills, and I hope to get sloppy with the man this evening.

12. As Zola indicated to me earlier today, I had failed to do a shot to Gettysburg yesterday (which was personally requested). So I must do a shot to the glory of Gettysburg.

13. To A0E III. I will certainly take this shot reluctantly. But, true to my word, I will do a shot upon request in the comment space of this blog.

As for the rest, you will just have to spend your Friday night posted in your computer chair, grab a bag of popcorn and a couple sodas, and wait anxiously for me to give live updates.

(BOX House - 8:28 p.m.)

Well, the only reason I'm updating at this moment is because Paul told me to slow down. Let me repeat that. Paul told me to slow down. Usually, when someone tells me to slow down, I would say "why don't you do me a favor and go drink a bleach cocktail". But if Paul tells me to slow down, wow, I should probably slow down.

What began as a battle to get the first shot down has evolved into a parade of rum-guzzling glory. The only reason I'm updating is because I have to wait 15 minutes before I do my next shot. Anyways:

14. To: Chron-johnsons, chron-snakes, & troutsniffers around the world. (and also, courtesy of Paul) to: Lord Chronwallis.

15. (also courtesy of Paul): Facial hair in all forms. Including, but not limited to: the fu-man-chu, handlebars, any mustache, & whatever whiskers Zola can grow.

16. (per request of Zola): To James Taylor. I'll leave you with a personal favorite lyric:

"In my mind I've gone to Carolina,
Can't you just see the sunshine?
Can't you just feel the moonshine?"


Well reader, I think I've "slowed down" for long enough. You can count on a blackout this evening, I assure you.


(BOX House - 9:38 p.m.)

I've already done 10 shots and it's not even 10 o'clock. If you ever wondered if I would get to 40 shots, you've got an answer.

17. (Al and myself thought this bad boy up): To J.P. and Roger, foster care children, and bringers of good fortune to the California Angels via the film "Angels in the Outfield". Not only did these little heroes help the Angels win the pennant, but they showed the world that a little faith can take a man a long way. (Also, Al has suggested): the roles that Danny Glover and Tony Danza play in said film.

18. Paul has requested a shot to Grant Fuhr - longtime St. Louis Blues netminder. After Paul's request, I decided that a better dedication would be to G Tim Cheveldet - Red Wings goaltender in the prelude to the Detroit god that is Chris Osgood (prior to his arrival in Hockeytown)

19. Obvi. STEVE YZERMAN. # 19 himself. Savior of Detroit hockey.

20. (9:27 p.m.) To the most drunken man in Ireland, whomever that may be. Because, undoubtedly, the man must certainly frat his freckled face off like no other hero ever could. Ireland forever.


The next update I make may or may not be blackie.


(BOX House -10:30 p.m. exactly, the friendly neighborhood drunk has just arrived; justin's house on their way)

21. (via Paul) To the drunkest man in Alabama - you better watch you're ass. As some of you may know, Paul and I plan to attend law school together in the prestigious Dixie state of Alabama where the Crimson Tide play. So, to the drunkest man in 'Bama: you betta' watch your ass, because there are a couple of fratties gunnin' for your tail in about two years. ROLL TIDE.

22. (via Justin on a telephone conversation): To Bobby Fisher, the greatest chess player of our generation. Good call, Justin.

23. Apple Orchards.

24. (via Chris Orr - who has just entered our home) Clit-boners. I'm not quite sure what this entails?

Shit's about to get wierd.

(11:50 p.m. - BOX - I am with Craig & Zola)

25. (10:51: Matt is vomiting) Here's to XX chromosomes aka vaginas (via Paul)

26. FREE WILLY. That whale persevered through everything, including sea world, in order to free himself in the sea.

27. Playing the fruit game in the street.

(11:29 p.m.: Chris Orr just broke a broom over his head. Wait, now he is continuosly pounding it against his noggin')

28. To: "Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak

* At this point, I don't know what's going on

(Justin, Craig, Zola, and me are here - I'm certain we will get black out; Matt has already passed out (12:03 a.m.))

According to Zola: General Buford, Sam Eliott, and Ross are in fact the same person.