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Drunken Ramblings - Death Row vs. Woodshed Pirates Edition
Thanksgiving Day was pretty good this year at my teepee - aside from the fact that I willingly celebrate an event that eventually led to the death of 90 percent of my tribe. But brisket is good, so whatever. I didn't know them anyway. Fuck it.
So, both my Dads, the new sort of girlfriend thingie (finger tats artist girl for those that recall), some other family, and a couple friends descend on my place like a plague of locusts. They ate all my shit. Then everyone gets drunk. At least everyone (sans hot tattoo girl) left at the end of the night. One of my friends actually drove his riding lawnmower home at about midnight, drunk. I know some real fucking winners.
Thanksgiving was a good time, but Black Friday lived up to its ominous and racist name. By the end of it I was shaking and about to vomit. Literally.
Right after midnight, after everyone leaves and when Black Friday kicks off, the new girl ends up painting a mural of wild horses on my tool shed by flashlight. She does it in 40 degree weather with nothing but her bra and panties on. She has a fucking great body, especially by moonlight. I think it's pretty cool at the time. I'm drunk. She's drunk. Next day in the light of day realize I have a huge mural of what appears to be a herd of wombats getting blown up. It's like marsupial Guernica.
I decide this act of drunken property defacement cannot stand. I vow to take it out on her uterus. Three minutes later, the rubber breaks during the money shot. I feel certain some white devil made defective latex just for me as a Thanksgiving present that might keep on giving for the next eighteen years. Fuck white people.
She is kind of freaked out of course, I'm freaked out, and I notice I have neighbors standing on back porches throughout the neighborhood pointing angrily at my tool shed. I must live with art haters. Or whatever you would call the abortion on the side of shed. So, then she tells me she promised her Mom that she would go Black Friday shopping with her. Great, you go buy more shit you don't need with your Mom, while I call my buddy over to grill some hamburgers and watch the games.
I get a sheet out of the dryer and go out to the shed to cover the small woodland creature genocide scene that has all my neighbors worked up. I then use a magic marker to draw a half decent hand flipping the bird over the whole sheet. Hey neighbors, you don't like drawn and quartered wombats? How about some "fuck you" then? Victory.
Fire up the grill, and forget to clean it from the last use. I am not thinking clearly. The euphoria of having bested my idiot white neighbors, and thinking I might be the worst Dad in the known universe in nine months has me out of sorts. Halfway through the burgers I am noticing lots of flame ups on the grill, so I cleverly spray a little water to tamp them down. In an odd bit of schadenfreude, since I had wished everyone here a happy Thanksgiving with a deep fat fryer explosion, a grease fire erupts.
I am no fireman. In fact I'm more of a dumbass than anything. So I squirt a huge slug of water on it. The fireball blows me into the yard. The fence catches on fire, and my buddy thinking quick kicks the whole grill over into the yard. He probably saved the fence. The yard however will never be the same. So, I've got 6 meat patties, a grill that has come apart into a few pieces, and a propane bottle laying in the grass. On fire. I jump up, kick the propane bottle away from the flames, surely breaking a toe in the process. Buddy grabs the hose and finally puts everything out.
The Apple Cup is starting in two hours, and my shed is a PETA nightmare covered in a fuck you sheet, my grill is laying in the yard, with the meat, covered in water, grease is still oozing into the yard, my toe feels broken, grass is burnt up in about a 3 foot circle, fence has burn marks all over it, lunch is ruined, neighbors are pissed, and I might be a Dad. Thanksgiving proves once again to be a wonderful time of year for the red man.
With everything that has happened to this point, I figure it is best to send my buddy to get some burgers in town, while I get the alcohol ready. From there, it settles into a decent day, because I get so fucking drunk I can't stand, and the goat fuckers from the hinterlands get fingerblasted with a finger roughly the size of a jack hammer. Review of the game as follows:
1st quarter: Bender looks like he has downs. Bender plays like he has downs. I am six beers deep when it starts.
2nd quarter: Mickens is still a fag. Can he just get AIDS? I throw back another six pack between the second quarter and halftime.
3rd quarter: #MyGaskin. I am still slamming beers and losing the ability to speak or type
4th quarter: #DeathRow@GabeMarksKnee (I blacked out during the fourth quarter and had to watch it on DVR this morning)
My house is a mess. My life is a mess. But we beat the shit out of the Pirate, and broke their best player in half. Fuck it, I'm doogin' for the Fight Leprosy Bowel and the inevitable off season natty if we win it. I got nothing else worth a fuck in my life to cheer for.
Anyone need a shed with dead animals on it? Comes with a hand decorated sheet. And a grill. Slightly used.
So, both my Dads, the new sort of girlfriend thingie (finger tats artist girl for those that recall), some other family, and a couple friends descend on my place like a plague of locusts. They ate all my shit. Then everyone gets drunk. At least everyone (sans hot tattoo girl) left at the end of the night. One of my friends actually drove his riding lawnmower home at about midnight, drunk. I know some real fucking winners.
Thanksgiving was a good time, but Black Friday lived up to its ominous and racist name. By the end of it I was shaking and about to vomit. Literally.
Right after midnight, after everyone leaves and when Black Friday kicks off, the new girl ends up painting a mural of wild horses on my tool shed by flashlight. She does it in 40 degree weather with nothing but her bra and panties on. She has a fucking great body, especially by moonlight. I think it's pretty cool at the time. I'm drunk. She's drunk. Next day in the light of day realize I have a huge mural of what appears to be a herd of wombats getting blown up. It's like marsupial Guernica.
I decide this act of drunken property defacement cannot stand. I vow to take it out on her uterus. Three minutes later, the rubber breaks during the money shot. I feel certain some white devil made defective latex just for me as a Thanksgiving present that might keep on giving for the next eighteen years. Fuck white people.
She is kind of freaked out of course, I'm freaked out, and I notice I have neighbors standing on back porches throughout the neighborhood pointing angrily at my tool shed. I must live with art haters. Or whatever you would call the abortion on the side of shed. So, then she tells me she promised her Mom that she would go Black Friday shopping with her. Great, you go buy more shit you don't need with your Mom, while I call my buddy over to grill some hamburgers and watch the games.
I get a sheet out of the dryer and go out to the shed to cover the small woodland creature genocide scene that has all my neighbors worked up. I then use a magic marker to draw a half decent hand flipping the bird over the whole sheet. Hey neighbors, you don't like drawn and quartered wombats? How about some "fuck you" then? Victory.
Fire up the grill, and forget to clean it from the last use. I am not thinking clearly. The euphoria of having bested my idiot white neighbors, and thinking I might be the worst Dad in the known universe in nine months has me out of sorts. Halfway through the burgers I am noticing lots of flame ups on the grill, so I cleverly spray a little water to tamp them down. In an odd bit of schadenfreude, since I had wished everyone here a happy Thanksgiving with a deep fat fryer explosion, a grease fire erupts.
I am no fireman. In fact I'm more of a dumbass than anything. So I squirt a huge slug of water on it. The fireball blows me into the yard. The fence catches on fire, and my buddy thinking quick kicks the whole grill over into the yard. He probably saved the fence. The yard however will never be the same. So, I've got 6 meat patties, a grill that has come apart into a few pieces, and a propane bottle laying in the grass. On fire. I jump up, kick the propane bottle away from the flames, surely breaking a toe in the process. Buddy grabs the hose and finally puts everything out.
The Apple Cup is starting in two hours, and my shed is a PETA nightmare covered in a fuck you sheet, my grill is laying in the yard, with the meat, covered in water, grease is still oozing into the yard, my toe feels broken, grass is burnt up in about a 3 foot circle, fence has burn marks all over it, lunch is ruined, neighbors are pissed, and I might be a Dad. Thanksgiving proves once again to be a wonderful time of year for the red man.
With everything that has happened to this point, I figure it is best to send my buddy to get some burgers in town, while I get the alcohol ready. From there, it settles into a decent day, because I get so fucking drunk I can't stand, and the goat fuckers from the hinterlands get fingerblasted with a finger roughly the size of a jack hammer. Review of the game as follows:
1st quarter: Bender looks like he has downs. Bender plays like he has downs. I am six beers deep when it starts.
2nd quarter: Mickens is still a fag. Can he just get AIDS? I throw back another six pack between the second quarter and halftime.
3rd quarter: #MyGaskin. I am still slamming beers and losing the ability to speak or type
4th quarter: #DeathRow@GabeMarksKnee (I blacked out during the fourth quarter and had to watch it on DVR this morning)
My house is a mess. My life is a mess. But we beat the shit out of the Pirate, and broke their best player in half. Fuck it, I'm doogin' for the Fight Leprosy Bowel and the inevitable off season natty if we win it. I got nothing else worth a fuck in my life to cheer for.
Anyone need a shed with dead animals on it? Comes with a hand decorated sheet. And a grill. Slightly used.
Comments
Marsupial Guernica
Wins the boardEl oh fucking el.
All I have to show for my Apple Cup experience is the gnawing shame of having cursed out a poor Pakistani kid working for AT&T because my wifi died in the third quarter.
"You think I want to have an AT&T repairman over at 1-4pm on a Saturday? Are you stupid?"
It then dawned on me that he probably works for like $.12/hr 14 hours a day (Saturdays included) and his mom probably has acid burns from being next to an honor attack.
But still... I don't want to wait around all day.
This is a message I can get behind.
Classy poster.
Next time, use this brand
Props to having friends drive drunk on the lawnmower.
That's sounds like my average Saturday.
Sans hot tatooed chick. I keep wanting one but I end up with either hot or tattooed. Never both.
Bah...