Devil in a Mickey's Bottle

DUDE. Seriously, dude, if Im ever discussing forties as the proper path to an entertaining night, you have my permission to gently tap me on the shoulder then knee me in the nuts when I turn around unawares. That would be far less painful than this morning has been. Its currently 844 in the PM and I still contend that its morning because hangovers are only suppossed to last the fucking morning. I think hangovers would be a whole lot easier to handle if they were personified like death in the blockbuster hit movie Bill and Teds bogus journey. That way you could play hangover at various board games such as battle ship and connect four in order to try to get him to leave your residence. He would have to be kind of an asshole, always talking shit as he sent you to the bathroom after each loss for your penance. Eventually, shit would bite off more than he could chew and I would be screaming jenga in his eye as he slunk out of my life until the following morning.
It all started round this time last night when I was headed to my drug dealer’s apartment for a poker game that I have described in the past. As before I will refer to him as Baron von Bubon such that the narc task force that has been assigned to monitor my blog will be thrown off his trail. The Baron had been away on business in the Dominican Republic and coincidentally called me the very day I had publicized my decision to discontinue the use of his narcotics and clean up my act in the short term. That said, I did grab an eighth off of him to run to a buddy who was in from out of town, and I may have pinched out a little for myself just in case. After stoppin through the first time, I realized that these fucks were going to get pissed given that I had scooped the kitty each of the first two times I had been invited, and that they would all be high out of their minds while I would be passin on grass. I ammended the situation by grabbing a few forties to take down during the game, and there were no complaints about my mental state of impair.
Eight players bought in gettin 1500 chips each for the ten dollar fee. After everyone called the forty blind first hand, I made it 300 preflop with crap, got one caller, and bluffed him out on the flop. I thought I was just going to get to bully the whole way, and was pounding away at my old english bottle in celebration. Then everything got fucked up when a bluffer pushed all in preflop with 8-2 suited and got called by two ace kings and a pocket queens. When the baron’s queens held up, he controlled half of all the chips in play on the second hand. I took this as a signal to drink and raise more, so I was pushing the remaining shits around best I could trying to double through the chip leader. He would never battle me and instead I just was accumulating chips as these pussies folded and I got more and more brazen with showing my bluffs as more and more malt liquor dulled my brain. I busted out two players on flopped two pairs but I was still outchipped two fold when I put the other portion of our threesome all in with a very questionable hand. He doubled up through me then I gave away the rest of it away on a questionable play with 7-4 offsuit that ran into a flopped set of eights. Fuck it though, I was drunk, I was talking up a storm the whole time, and I had successfully watched blunts pass right in front of my face for the better part of two hours without breaking down. I have to chalk it up as a victory.
To celebrate, I went to meet my buddy Rocco at the MGM Grand where he was helping a friend promote for the club Tabu. I sauntered in holding what remained of my third forty of the night, and I remember very little of what followed. From Rocco’s second hand account, I ordered washington apple shots from a cocktail waitress we had on the take and systematically alienated anyone who could have possibly wanted to go to the club by yelling at them as they walked by. After passing out on a slot machine intermittently for periods that ranged from twenty seconds to twenty minutes, I announced my intentions to get the fuck out of dodge and wandered towards the parking garage. That part of the evening is a blur, though I do remember stumbling upon a car of three girls trying to change for the club who had to politely ask me to leave their siteline multiple times as I would do the least covert job possible of hiding behind adjacent automobiles trying to sneak peaks. When a security guard informed me that it was not in my best interest to continue that plan of attack, I tried to commadiere his bike to find my car, but he was being unreasonable about the use of two wheeler. Fuck it, from my phone records it only took approximately 30 minutes to locate my vehicle and like an idiot I piloted it back the two blocks to my home.
I came to on the couch at 5 in the morning with the blare of a smoke alarm in the backround. Turns out the pizza I had put in the oven had long since become a brick of charcoal and the paraphanalia surrounding the sofa suggested that I had relapsed. I caught another couple hours sleep before participating in a fantasy baseball draft that I dominated, then I made the unreasonable decision of downing a bag of chedder cheese popcorn. Is there anything nastier than puking up a viscous orange fluid that doesnt taste nearly as good comin up than going down? Im pretty sure I would have fought a battle with the toilet bowl either way, but it takes a real idiot to get adventerous with his palate when he cant venture more than three steps off the couch without considering a quick jog to the cammode. My afternoon continued in the same manner with me blowing off an interview I was suppossed to conduct for my tutoring job to watch NCAA basketball, and then eventually meanandering out to tutor a kid a full two hours after our appointment time. Shit was a fucking struggle but I percerviered. When thus coming home to catch a quick nap, I encountered the very Rocco who had hung me out to dry with his washington apple shots the night before. I attempted to throw my alarm clock at him, but it turned out to be attached to the wall with some type of cord. Instead, I made sure he put me on the list for tabu tonight when he told me he was rolling 5 deep with UNLV girls, and I resigned myself to another morning of hell. Sometimes, the lesson is the one that needs to learn the lesson that moultaaaaan aint never going to cave to you teachings. Connect four in your eye tommorrow morning, bitchass hangover, Im going diagonal right off the bat and you wont see the shit coming you nearsighted son of a bitch.

Devil in a Mickey's Bottle

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