You Don't Need Alcohol To Have A Good Time

In light of Auslander and Villain’s respective WHOOOO PARTY threads, I would like to take a moment and share with the Internet the events of my evening, spent without consuming a single drop of liquor (I’m 20, you see, and it’s illegal for me to drink alcoholic beverages in the United States).

WELL! Where do I begin? Got up late; around 1:30. Couldn’t sleep last night. Been having problems the past couple weeks. Even though I awoke at a late hour, I still maintained the vague plans of heading off to the library to do some revising of my spooky Halloween SCREAMplay. The library, tragically, closes at 6 on Saturday, and as the day progressed my window of opportunity shrank rapidly until it became apparent my half-assed plans to go write were falling through. So instead I watched a bunch of clips of Phantasmagoria on Youtube.

That’s Act I, concluded on an R. Kellyesqe note by the unexpected phone call from my friend Chase asking if I wanted to do something. I said yes. He wandered out of his coverage area before we could make concrete plans. WHAT WILL BECOME OF OUR HERO???

Chase called again 20 minutes later.

“Sorry,” he said. “My phone does that sometimes.”
“It’s okay. I called Josh. He said he’ll be home around 6:30.”
“Okay cool. Let’s all meet up at my place around 7.”

We did. Josh and Tyler were there.

Chase was playing Twilight Princess on his TV, but I didn’t want to watch since he’s much farther ahead in the game than I am. I busied myself showing Josh and Tyler Norna videos on Youtube, then pondered for a moment and called to Chase “We really should go out and do something. I didn’t leave my house so I could go back on the Internet.”

Chase agreed. Josh, Tyler and I were all hungry. Chase tried to convince us to go to Potatoes Galore!, which none of us had been to, but we told him we didn’t want to go to a restaurant solely for camp value. It was at this point Tyler realized he had no money, so we dropped him off at his house and bade him good evening. We sat in his driveway for a few minutes deliberating where to eat. Nothing too far, Chase said. I’m picking up my girlfriend in two hours. I felt like “something ethnic”, as did Josh, so the logical answer was Johnny Carino’s.

While I am usually very strict about my fat intake, I have a rule that I’m allowed to splurge one night each week, usually a weekend. I ordered a water to go with my Italian Nachos, debating as to whether or not I should get a Coke instead. The debate raged in my head for approximately three minutes, or whatever length of time I needed to finish my piece of bread, at which point I decided to get crazy and order a Coke. However, I decided that I shouldn’t get too crazy, and that if I was ordering a Coke I should not also order lasagna. I searched the menu for lighter portions, but found to my dismay that section had been removed. The closest I could find was chicken parmasean panini, which came out somewhat dry but otherwise palatable.

Josh and I discussed U.N. policy over the course of dinner. We asked questions about clones and fucking clones and if your clones fucked would that make you gay?, or what if you invented a rowboat powered by clones giving each other blowjobs? We grilled Josh on his recent trip to Canada and asked how lenient Canada is on drugs, how lenient Canada is on knowing your alphabet, how lenient Canada is on the existence of the television program Beyond Belief? Fact or Fiction, how lenient Canada is on flexibility. Then we left. I was not charged for my Coke.

We returned to Chase’s house and watched Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogalo. I suggested desaturating the colors to make it look more like Schindler’s List. Chase agreed, but only for about twenty minutes, at which point he complained he missed the color. I pointed out that Chase’s big screen High-Def TV handled reds terribly, made them pixelated and hideous. He agreed but countered the film was meant to be shown in deep colors. I yielded, not seeing the point in arguing further.

Ten minutes before the climax of the film Chase’s girlfriend–who had postponed their date two hours on the grounds that she wanted to hang out with Josh’s ex-girlfriend–said she was now ready. Chase immediately began fast-forwarding through the film. Josh and I made whipping sounds. Or maybe it was just me.

Chase ran out of his house somewhat abruptly, but Josh and I saw no potential mischief to be had in his empty home, so we got in my car and made plans. We attempted to call our mutual friend Stephanie, but she was with someone else. We attempted to call our mutual friend Nick, but he was not answering his phone. It being a cold evening, Josh suggested I drive around to get the car heated faster. I drove to Meijer. We took one lap around the store. I debated buying razor blades, then remembered I have three left still.

I returned Josh to his car, but we sat in mine and talked for a while.
“Hey, not to be rude or anything, but it’s getting late and I still need to work out.”
“yeah, it’s cool. I need to be up early tomorrow anyway. See ya.”

I then headed back home and took some creatine. I have just started creatine this week and have been overall impressed by the effects, but tonight felt VERY sedated. Perhaps it was because I was lifting weights at 1:30 in the AM, but my heart simply was not in it. My back in particular was recalcitrant to any sort of change in weight, a far cry from the drastic boost I’d received in my arms and legs earlier in the week. In retrospect, however, my back is still throbbing, so maybe there’s still hope.

Upon returning home I considered having a protein shake but decided against it, fearing the protein would keep me up. Instead I decided to go online for a bit to check to see if the Dr. Tzun Tzu thread had been updated. It had not, but I saw Auslander and Villain’s respective threads and felt the need to contribute one of my own.

So you see? It’s entirely possible to have a grand evening without artificial highs.

I got up early, at around 11am, my nose almost entirely plugged with the remnants of mucus membranes that sacrificed themselves in the last few days on the altar of demerol insufflation. After blowing my nose, snorting water into it and blowing it again for a good 30 mins, I logged onto Bullshido and Sociocide and Empornium (my usual morning routine) and began looking for jacking material for before anybody else got home to interupt my session, whilst simultaneously trolling the forums. Sadly, nothing new on Empornium would finish downloading in the time I had alloted, so after about an hour of looking at the teasers there, I decided to load one of the many gigabytes of porn hidden on my sister’s computer and get it over with.

That done, I phoned my Mom to see if we could go to her storage unit to get my wrestling boots and gi that have been there for months, precluding any real leverage when I’m on the mat (sock feet, fuck mat burn) and any sort of gi training (not that I care, gi=gay, troll, troll, troll) she would be home soon, she assured me. She arrived 30 mins late, which was inconsequential, as I’d made no effort to do anything but troll up to that point.

Then the annoying, brain damaged neighbour knocked on the door and tried to sell me some weed. This was particularly annoying because the guy just breaks out his weed for everyone to see and asks in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, besides which he has the intellect of a 5 year old. He’s trying to tell me something, but seeing as I’m hungover and in a mental fog, I just say “No, no, no, no, no” and shut the door. I go back to trolling, then realize the guy wanted tobacco, which I have and don’t want and he had weed which I don’t have and do want. So I go over there and get the weed for the tobacco, but have to listen to him rant about nothing for 20 mins just to accomplish that. Then I smoked a shitty rolled smoke (tailor mades are so, so, so, so much better, I can’t even express how much better they are) and me and my Mom head over to the storage unit.

We get a pair of bolt cutters, figuring the lock is cheap and will bust open pretty easily, but upon trying that discover that bolt cutters aren’t meant for hardened steel and are now wrecked and we have made no progress. So I return home to troll the forums, but due to my opioid induced hangover I cannot do so, as usual, into the wee hours of the morning, I already feel tired dead tired and worn out and it’s only 8pm. Sparring class Friday night + too many painkillers Friday night=a shitty Saturday.

So I watched the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy I’d missed on Thursday (due to opioid bender) and was pleased that Burke did has not yet reunited with that annoying, horse-faced Asian bitch, but disappointed at O’Malley’s impotence to do anything and anything, ever, and further disappointed that no one has yet murdered the annoying Asian bitch.

Then I went to sleep and had some of the worst opioid withdrawl nightmares ever. Vampires and Zombies who’re also rapists, OH MY!

So in summary, I agree, alcohol not required…especially when you’ve got something worse.

This thread is “ghey”

Boyd, not anywhere in that piece did you get laid. You make an awkward reference to a friend who is ‘into girls, mehehehe’ like fucking Beavis. Your friends all sound like introverted pseudo-intellectual losers who mentally masturbate about kitsch cultural references whilst fucking fingering their own arses in the toilet about what it might be like to, you know, fuck a real woman.

My suggestion:-

Get drunk in a singles bar. Start with a rough desperate woman, and slowly work your way up the ladder of h0tness until you find your natural mean.

Boyd now sounds like a whiny straight edge emo.

Cullion, it occurs to me that someone who does Tai Chi…

It’s special Tai Chi. Man-sized Tai Chi.

Boyd, I’ve been rooting for you to get laid for ages. Have you been successful?

I didn’t consume any alcohol, though I wish I had been under some sort of chemical influence. Boyd and company sound all too much like my highschool group of friends.

If you want a piece of me Shuma, you only have to leave an appropriately flattering comment on my flickr site.

No, tragically. Though in my defense I’m finally trying to do something about it. I’m trying to go out on an actual date with a longtime friend, but she told me she wouldn’t be free until next Friday. Ask me again how things are a week from today.

Why would I have to finger my own ass when there are three dogs around the house?

Boyd, I want you to read this as if a tough, but caring older brother wrote it.

Forget ‘just a date with an old friend’. It never works. What you want are people who on first meeting them it just feels natural to ask them out on a date. Women who ‘just want to be friends’ are your enemy in the dating stakes. Not because they mean to be, but just because you aren’t going to get any. And she’s delaying the date now. That only means one thing. So learn from the experience.

Good point. You win.

That’s a load of hooey and I think a big reason why so many relationships flop.

In this post I will bring up the Ladder Theory.

There, I did it.

Cullion=Full o’ Shite

I don’t think so. I admit, my opinions are based on the fact that I met my (still current) wife and mother of my children at the age of 22, so I might be seeing ‘dating’ too simplistically.

I only have experience with straight relationships, and in my experience of those, when a straight (single) man and a (single) straight woman turn each other on, it comes together quickly, and then they fill in the details (at some point during which they often find that they aren’t suited, but the basic lust has to come first).

I don’t dispute your view that a strong friendship bond is essential for a succesful long-term relationship, it’s just that I don’t think that a sexual relationship can be strong without that moment of instant ‘eye-to-eye’ lust, and I don’t think it should be. That’s why I advise against younger guys trying to date women who they find attractive, but who the woman in the relationship has always thought of as a ‘friend’ or ‘teddy bear’.

As a former anti-drug and alchohol zealot I’ve relatively recently come to the conclusion that if you’re not on the right chemicals you’re not having as much fun as you could be.