My personal binge regulator malfunctined on Friday -- after the usual Friday and Saturday night club attacks, we spent Sunday wandering around the market and drinking beer, then had some vodka at my place, but at 12:00am, when the law and rationality demand an end to the evening, that always-deadly fourth bottle of vodka (largely among three people) appeared and then it was kind of like the movie Fight Club, except everybody was black-out drunk.
There are some pictures of this, but I really don't want to look at them right now.
I think the cops came, after 2:30am when ETC left and went out to apologize to my screaming steel-teethed neighbor; of all the weird people she's seen going in and out of here, to see the Sasquatch-like ETC (all six-foot-eight and two-fifty of him) come out must have frightened the bejesus out of her
I didn't open the door when it rang the second time; I'd heard the cops are effectively powerless until you open the door. ETA fell down and smashed his head on a cabinet, and has a lovely black eye. Their girlfriends were furious with them, I was terrified all day yesterday the cops were going to be coming for a little chat, Rodney King style, and I'm still so shaky and sick I haven't been able to eat anything but crackers and a bit of rice, this some 36 hours later.
I don't know, this is the first time I can remember being abjectly ashamed of myself in quite a few years. I mean, half the time when the neighbors complain, we aren't really doing anything, just being a tad talkative and staying up past 11:00pm.
But this was a grotesque, pointless riot of near-lethal drunkeness by three middle-aged men acting like morons. Among the other highlights was a push-up contest, slam-dancing to FILTER songs, the usual wrestling matches with associated destruction, and an attempt to dead-lift a 250 pound man. As well as numerous cases of giving the cat noisy orgasms. Which you can do by pushing down where the tail meets the body, if the cat's in heat. Really.
Most of my neighbors are really old, and I can only imagine that we must have sounded like we were about to stomp through the walls and sodomize them all to death. Shameful, really.
The administration laughed it off at school, boys will be boys, and as of yet I have received no more visits from the cops, the neighbours or the landlady. Afraid, perhaps that my pet Sasquatch will eat them.
Drinking is bad for you!
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