My birthday recently passed and it may have been the best I've had thus far.
Last weekend, after telling my self I wouldn't, I decided to go to Canada for my birthday. This was a spur of the moment decision which was influenced by people who didn't even go. Sucks dick for them.
Thursday came around and I went to class as usual. I got out around 4:30, got my hair cut, and made the life changing decision of shaving off my beard-in-progress. (RIP). But I look at it like this... Who wants the dick of a lumberjack in their mouth? Certainly not I. Got home around at around 6 and called Philth and told him to meet me here. While Philth was pooping naked and showering, or whatever it is he does, I got online to look for the cheapest place to stay in Windsor. I ended up finding a 4 person hotel for 70 bucks... the kind of place you'd take a transsexual prostitute from craigslist. Extremely classy. Philth arrived a few minutes later followed closely by Roach and Aj. We wasted absolutely no time getting into Roach's car and leaving.
After being hassled at immigration. (read as: custom agent inquiring about our sexuality) We made a beeline to the Beer Store. Allow me to explain to those of you who have never been to Canada what the beer store is. The Beer Store is the actual name of the store. On the outside it looks like the average liquor store that you see loitering on every corner in the United States. But it's unlike anything you have ever seen when you walk in. You go through sliding doors into the checkout area of the store where a few registers are set up with rollers alongside so that you don't have to hold your beer as you wait in line, you simply slide it along next to you. You walk through another set of sliding doors into what is a giant convenience store-sized refrigerator where they have just about any type of beer you can imagine. Another beautiful thing about Canada is the 28 pack. 24's are for pussies. We decide on the standard 28 of bud light as our pregame choice with the exception of Philth who made the decision to add a 24oz of Colt45 onto his list. We pay for our goodies, pack it up and head for the hotel.
Now, when I realized we were only paying about 14 bucks per person to stay in a hotel, I was honestly expecting much, much worse. This place wasn't that bad at all. The room was actually pretty clean... well... before we got to it. Upon entering the room we immediately made the decision to mark our territory. Yes, I mean that literally. Then a little bit of fun via mattress hopping. By the time we got done with all of our hotel-room-destroying fun we were out of beer and ready to hit the bars. Lucky for us there was a shady looking sports bar directly across the street from where we were staying.
We walk across the street and into this bar where I find a seat next to my buddies. After sitting down Roach leans over and tells me about the group of older men who were sitting directly across from us. He points out the way they were staring at me and I make it a point to make eye contact with each of them. These guys were the definition of creepy. I wasn't sure if they wanted to have forced sex with us or kill us, either way it wasn't looking good. However, I figured the whole forced sex thing would make for a good laugh for you guys... alas I was not raped. My mind wanders and I am no longer focused on being appealing to older men. We order a round of drafts and I am pleasantly surprised by what shows up in front of us. I am used to the small, roughly 5 ounce drafts that most places try to pass off as a deal. Nope, this place had big boy glasses. These things must have been 24oz. a piece. I may not be getting raped tonight, but I'll be damned if I'm not drunk before I leave this bar.
Two, or maybe three, or maybe four beers later, someone decides that it's time for a round of liquor. This appeases me. My friends, not being sure on what kind of shot they wanted, ask me what's good. I go as feminine as possible and order a round of washington apples. I just can't do straight liquor these days. Feel free to call me a faggot. My phone begins ringing non-stop with people who claim to be on their way up. I do my best to explain to them how to get to the hotel. After what seems like 5 hours the other group of guys show up and we decide it's time to head to the clubs. Personally, I don't care much for Canadian clubs, allow me to explain why. I've only been into a handful of these places and every time I've been in them they were well over capacity which makes walking an impossible task, the music is at an unreasonable level which makes talking to others an impossible task. Both of these things are things that I enjoy doing. Don't get me wrong here, we all know why clubs blare music and jam people in the doors. Profit. If you can't talk, you're going to drink. The more people inside that are drinking the better the sales. Yeah, that's great if you're the owner, but it makes the experience miserable if you're going there to have fun. Furthermore, I can't deal with the flocks of underage girls that got in because they "know someone". If I wanted to hang out with girls of questionable age, I would have stayed home and lurked around on myspace, not went to a club. I am eventually convinced to go after I hear about the $5 pitchers that one of them is offering for that particular night.
We all pile into Habibi's truck and make a pit-stop at a gas station where I insult both of the men working about their Canadian accent and their ridiculous cigarette warnings. They have free health care, what the fuck do they need to put warnings on their cigarettes for? After a slight argument inside of the store between me and the gas station attendants about who really has an accent, which I won, we finally make our way to the $5 pitchers.
We walk into this place called Reactor and it is fucking dead. I'm talking Heath Ledger dead. At this point, I could give a shit less because I'm about to get piss drunk for cheap. I head directly to the bar and order two pitchers and begin drinking furiously. After slamming the two pitchers in record time I begin telling everyone else to keep an eye out for insecure fatties as I would like to wind up naked next to a land whale in the morning. Post-fatgirlrant the beer is already catching up to me and I head to the bathroom. Before I even have time to zip roach comes crashing through the door yammering on almost belligerently. I tell him to calm the fuck down and speak English. This conversation goes as follows;
Roach: Doug! Doug! Doug! Oh. My. God. Four HUGE girls just walked in here Doug. Seriously, You need to get out here.
Doug: I want the "hot" one.
Roach: That's fine I don't care, these girls are huge, you're going to shit yourself when you see them.
On the way out I decide that I'd let Roach have the fattest of them. Muahahaha. I see these girls standing at the bar and the lying begins. They say they're from Michigan and are all going to some bullshit unaccredited school that no one has ever heard of. This pleases me. I pick one of the not-so-bad looking blimps as my victim. I tell this girl that I'm some big shot stock holder and that I'm also the VP of a nonexistent nonprofit. She. Eats. It. Up. No pun intended. I'm on my A-game tonight and I was not going to let anything break this streak. Philth comes walking up and I immediately shew him away so that I don't get distracted. At this point all I cared about was harpooning this beast. I pick up her and her friends next couple of rounds to aid in my lies and get myself a couple more pitchers. I'm going to need to be trashed to have sex with something like this. By the time the round is gone I notice that Roach is much taller than usual. This is because the wildebeest has picked him up off of the ground mid-hug. The Michelin men decide that they want to go across the street to the more popular, much more run down club across the street. By now I didn't care. I was already sloshed and these sluts were down for some rich dick.
I look and realize that Roach and myself were the only two out of our friends left in the place. We walk across the street and our friends are already inside. There's a line out front and we make our way to the back. After waiting for ages... which was actually more like 15 seconds... I decide that I'm too good for the line and proceed to walk around it and right through the doors with no questions asked. The bouncers must have recognized me from the cover of Fortune 500. Haha. Upon walking in I learn that Philth has already done his damage at the place. Please, let me explain... and possibly burn a bridge... Philth and the other guys were on the dance floor when Philth spotted a long haired blond bombshell from across the way. He makes his way over and immediately starts trying to fuck this beauty through their jeans. Something about this displeases Philth's new crush. He, yes... a male, turns around and realizes what just happened. Apparently these two were standing face to face with the same "What the fuck?!" look on their faces. After the situation really sinks in with Blondie, he becomes extremely confrontational. Philth laughs this off and tells him "It's not my fault you look like a fucking woman." Blondie left the club immediately. I would hope he learned from this and went home to cut his hair. Unlikely.
By this point I have lost all sense of direction and have no idea where I am or how I got there. The rest of my night comes back in bits and pieces when I think about it. For whatever reason I remember being in a club that looked nothing like the two that we actually went to and have no idea how. I do not recall leaving. I came around momentarily in a middle eastern restaurant while ordering food. I black out again before I pick up my food and according to my friends I told them I was going to walk back to the car which was parked blocks away. Apparently they told me this was a bad idea as I was unable to walk on my own. According to them, I thought it was a great idea and left anyway. Oh, wait a minute. I forgot about the whales. I must have lost them at the club because by now they were no where in site. Perhaps this was for the best. Anyway... the guys tell me that after they had all ate they found me sitting against the truck in the cold waiting for them. BrownEye was no where to be found either... we'll come back to him later. I was reportedly passed out the entire ride home and when I was told to get out of the truck and go up to the hotel room I refused and began getting combative. I was told Aj had to put me in a full nelson and walk me into the hotel and up the stairs while holding me in that position. Whatever.
I wake up in the morning with no pants on next to Philth. Waking up half clothed next to males seems to be a recurring event in my life. I'm still drunk and still don't know where I am. I have to piss bad. In my drunken stupor I vaguely remember pulling my man meat out of my boxers and aiming towards the side of the bed. This sets an alarm off in my mind. I come around mid piss and realize I was pissing all over myself, the bed, and the hotel. I pinch off and sprint to the bathroom where I piss in the sink... again. After walking out and putting my pants on I realize there is an extra person in the room. It's BrownEye. I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned BrownEye's sleeping habits before so let me explain. This kid is a freak. I don't think I've ever seen him sleeping with his eyes closed. And I don't think he's ever not snored. BrownEye is laying flat on his back, arms crossed over his chest like he's going down a water slide and knees bent with his feet flat on the ground, eyes wide open, dead asleep. The kid is a creep. After everyone wakes up BrownEye starts telling us about his night and how he ended up in our room.
After leaving the second club he was completely tanked and hopped into a cab with random girls and they invite them to their hotel. According to him he gets to this hotel room and they all start going to bed and he insists that they stay up. He begins creeping them out just like he does with everyone else and they tell him he has to leave. BrownEye begins walking aimlessly in the dead of winter in a short sleeve shirt and no jacket. He was so worried about getting hypothermia or frostbite that he called 911 and simply told them "I need help. I don't know where I am." They send a cruiser out to find him and after a long lecture about how the police are not there to serve as a taxi, they give him a ride to our hotel. BrownEye walks into the lobby and demands a key to our room and they actually give it to him. Why anyone would think that it's a good idea to give a drunk guy the key to a random hotel room is beyond me. For all they know he could have been some psychopath that was set on killing us. The fuck. We laugh about this for a while and we all start noticing that we all have text messages and voice mails on our phone.... all of them from BrownEye. All of them exactly the same. "I need help." Over and over and over again.
Finally we're all sobered up enough to drive and head back home. About halfway home I realize the remote for the TV is in my pocket. This makes me happy.
Although I failed at having sex with a yeti, I had a fuck of a time. At least.... I think I did. I don't know if I'm going to be able to top myself next year... in fact... I'm kind of worried that I do because in order to do so I'm probably going to end up in jail somewhere for exposing myself... again.
P.S. Sorry I missed the January update.
