Ok, I'll be the first to admit it: My life is dull. So incredibly dull, that even I get drowsy thinking about it. My life used to be more interesting. I used to do stuff. For example, I used to get into a lot of fights, I've been jumped, and I was robbed at gunpoint. Once, I was even searched by a cop when I was so drunk it was miraculous that I could stand or even speak. He never even asked me if I had been drinking or taking drugs. He asked if I was a gang banger. I told him I couldn't possibly be a gang banger because my clothes fit me properly and I could read. Smartass remarks and all, I got away without any real trouble.
Nothing like that ever happens to me anymore. I still get wasted, but now I'm of legal age and I usually drink at home. I don't have friends that I go out and get into trouble with either. But I have been remembering things that I did back in the good old days that make for a good story. Pretty much everything I write about here was caused by the drinking of alcohol. A big surprise I'm sure.
Vomit, vomit, and more vomit.
I have, on film, an actual drive-by vomiting. On our way to hopefully ease our hangovers, myself, my brother, and some other guy who used to be cool but sucks ass now, were driving to the nearby Carl's Jr. for a burger breakfast (or late lunch rather). Feeling the contents of his stomach being rocketed to his mouth, my brother yelled that I pull over right away. I did so immediately and just happened to pull up to someone's driveway. At that point, my brother leapt from the backseat and vomited all over the driveway. In a matter of seconds he was finished and back in the car. I stomped on the gas pedal and we screeched off, laughing all the way as a bewildered homeowner looked on from his living room window. I can only imagine the emotions he felt while he scraped chunky, sludgy, beer-vodka vomit off of his defiled driveway.
I once slept in a pile of my own vomit in an apartment complex parking lot in a shitty neighborhood. This is what happens when you mix 40's of St. Ides and 151. Obviously I like to drink. But I hate, and when I say hate I mean really fucking hate, weed. I don't want to smoke it, you won't convince me to smoke it, and if you won't leave me alone about how great weed is, and how it isn't really a drug because it's all natural, and how the government is out to get you, I will cram your sneak-a-toke so far up your ass you'll be coughing up resin. Also, for some reason, the smell of bud (especially combined with all the alcohol I tend to drink) makes me unusually violent.
I drank more than anyone without a deathwish ever should, and the rest of the rejects at this particular apartment party decided to hot-box the apartment. It pissed me off so I stumbled outside and my last memory is being really pissed off and leaning on my car looking for someone to punch. The next thing I know, someone is trying to wake me up and I am face down in the parking lot. My face is covered in warm vomit that had cooled down significantly since it escaped my stomach. I smelled weed on the people waking me and became belligerent. I don't know why, but as I stood up, someone ran up and sucker punched me. I lost balance and fell back into my own vomit, where I was told I stayed for some time before getting up and passing out on the floor of the apartment. It turned out my brother sucker punched me and to this day, no one knows why.
I have around an hour and 45 minutes worth of drunk people I know puking on film.
Once, in Palm Springs, my brother got so drunk we had to force him to eat for his own safety. He ate a Cup O' Noodles. I watched him chew the food, yet somehow, when he threw up minutes after eating it, the noodles were long and unchewed. The same thing happened to me later the same night. It's the damnedest thing.
Myself and three others were relaxing in the park after eating a Carl's Jr. lunch to combat our raging hangovers. One guy present thought it would be funny to poke my brother in the stomach with a stick. It made my brother throw up the thickest, heaviest vomit I've ever seen. This, in turn, made stick-poker guy throw up. I resisted, but all the puking-the smell, sounds, and ghastly visuals-made me loose it too.
We laughed while setting off chain reaction after chain reaction of painful vomiting. There were puddles and piles of steaming barf everywhere. We needed to rest and we sat at a picnic table for a while. We then watched in awe as some dog went from pile to pile, eating as much vomit as he could. That was funny. It was even funnier when the dog trotted happily back to its owner and licked her face for far longer than should be considered normal.
I drank so much one time, I threw up for almost two hours and passed out on the bathroom floor for the rest of the day. I think I hurt myself because for the next three days, I was in severe pain whenever I swallowed.
My brother puked in the Jack in the Box drive through.
He also threw up pure black sludge one time.
I chipped my tooth when, on my way to the bathroom to puke, I fell and hit my face on the toilet. Future of America right here folks.
A guy I used to hang out with threw up in the sink. That's not so strange, but the reason he threw up in the first place is. He was so drunk he ate a can of tamales without removing their individual paper wrappers. The last wrapper made him choke which caused him to throw up.
My brother puked in his sleep and slept in his own puke all night. He was so hungover the next day, he didn't bother showering, he just changed his shirt.
When I had morning classes in college I would often throw up out my window while driving to school because I was so hungover. And I somehow managed to graduate with a 4.0 gpa and perfect attendance.
Like other groups of people who want to get really shit-bombed, we used to play drinking games. One such game was checkers. All the pieces were shot glasses and when you jumped the other player he had to do the shots. Since the people I was often pitted against were about intelligent as pubic hair, I won a lot which meant I wasn't getting to drink enough. So one night I made a new rule. That rule being, the winner of each game would have only five minutes to down all of his remaining shots. Just in case some people don't know, there are twelve pieces per player in a game of checkers.
The night the new rule was implemented, I was on a mission to get drunk. In a short amount of time, I had played and won three games and was in the middle of a fourth. Thanks to the new rule I was destroyed. I suddenly realized I needed to throw up so I ran outside and puked in a potted plant that belonged to someone's mother. I ended up drinking more and spending most of the night talking to some guy about UFOs.
Once, my neighbors were having a party. Some people, or vato douchebags as I referred to them, were giving me the eye on my own front yard. They were trying to stare me down for no good reason. So I did what anyone would do: Drank 20 beers and pissed in their car. It would have just been on their car, but they left their windows down and I couldn't refuse.
I pissed off the back of a moving pickup truck.
This guy I know was dumb enough to bring a shitty CD in my house, and when I got really drunk I took it outside, smashed it, lit it on fire with lighter fluid, and pissed it out.
This guy I know drank more than he was able to handle and passed out. Me and my brother were drunk too and we thought he was dead. We were smacking him, yelling at him, and throwing shit at him but nothing would wake him up. I remembered a scene from the movie Calling Bobcat and poured some water on the seemingly deceased drunk. This, unlike previous attempts, produced results.
He stood up and without saying a word, walked outside to the hotel room balcony and pissed all over the place. Then he came back in and went back to sleep without so much as looking at me. It was like he was sleepwalking. The next day he didn't remember shit about the previous night which is pretty common when you drink like you're trying to kill yourself.
A guy I used to hang out with got really drunk and wandered off and left the hotel grounds. He ended up wandering around in the desert (long story). I went to look for him but got sick of it and just pissed on his brand new truck instead.
In the old days, when me and my friends would drink, if someone had to piss outside, someone else would run up and push him into his own piss.
One of my old friends had a really lame younger brother and we used to fuck with him. He kept this big jug of water in the fridge because he got thirsty when he went to the nearby park to dance around like an idiot and call it capoeira. Well, he was out of town, I was drunk in his house, and I pissed in that jug of water a little.
I was at a kegger and the line to the bathroom was ridiculous. I remembered that this guy I hate lived nearby so I went to his house and pissed on his front door and possibly broke some shit.
One night, after all involved were thoroughly blitzed, someone suggested that we slam our heads against this wooden stool in the room. I don't know if we were supposed to be trying to break it or what, but we spent a good half hour busting our skulls on the damn thing, laughing all the while. We managed to crack the sumbitch, and then realized we didn't want to break it completely because it was a place to set our beer. After watching the video and seeing how fucking hard we were slamming our heads on the stool, I'm amazed no one got a concussion.
One guy got drunk and left the hotel to wander in the desert, at two in the morning, without any shoes, and he was piss drunk. So desert boy ends up getting lost, hearing voices, and falling into a big hole. And I ended up pissing on his truck.
I got really hammered and climbed out over the balcony at this one hotel. I guess I was trying to get the attention of one of my friends who was by the pool. The best part: Someone yelled "Don't jump!"
Later, at that same hotel we got one of our group to go downstairs so we could pour beer from the third floor into his mouth. All went as planned except I was too drunk to pour, and the guy trying to catch the beer was too drunk to stand up. So, after a few brief moments the guy trying to drink the beer tripped and fell into the bushes, and had a hard time getting back up.
One guy I knew got so drunk he purposely jumped in my pool in the middle of the night, with cigarettes, a pager, and his wallet still on him...on two separate occasions.
I once ate a paintball because I was drunk and wondered if it would make my piss green.
This ass head was bitching about cigarette smoke one night. So after he passed out like a bitch, we filled his mouth with the contents of the ashtray...and lots of mustard for color.
This one guy was so drunk he started throwing lunchmeat at everyone because he wanted to "hear the slap it makes when lunchmeat connects with skin."
After 3:00am we, a group of three, decided we wanted some Mexican food. We were all underage and totally drunk. We barely made it to the restaurant because one guy, it's desert boy by the way, was so drunk me and my brother essentially had to carry him. When we got to the restaurant desert boy wandered off. Next thing we know, he's hitting on this girl who is with her boyfriend and another very large guy. Luckily he gave up before they decided to kick his ass.
When we were trying to eat he was making all kinds of noise and bothering people. Plus he looked like he was about to puke. He said he was going to go to the bathroom but he really went out side and talked to a security guard while enjoying a cigarette. A few minutes later a police car pulls up and we realize Desert Boy has wandered off again. We tried to hide our drunkenness as we walked by the police officer who was talking to the security guard.
We found Desert Boy a few hundred yards away, trying to walk but mainly falling over. We ended up having to carry him home, hiding every time a car drove by lest we be spotted by the cops.
We went to that same Mexican restaurant another late night when I got drunk and decided I wanted to try menudo because "It has guts in it." So once again we stumbled to the restaurant and I ordered my soup. For a while I ate it quietly, not bothered by the tripe. After a while the soup's blandness angered me but the tripe intrigued me.
I threw a piece of tripe against the window and it bounced off landing on the floor. I guess I thought the way it jiggled was hilarious because I began throwing it everywhere. I noticed that one of my friends was talking to some girls so I had to ruin it for him. I pelted him with tripe saying something about throwing guts around. I don't really remember much else. After that we never went back to that little, open all night, Mexican fast-food restaurant. Probably because we got sick of the hassle. Also, I don't really care for Mexican food.
In college, I knew these two guys that drank a bottle of tequila in the back row of the classroom during a morning class. The bottle of tequila had been a prop for their presentation. After their presentation they polished off the bottle even though it was just after 8:00am.
I went on a college field trip to an art museum totally fucked up. I spent my time making fun of cultural art, and mispronouncing artist names sometimes on purpose and sometimes because I was so drunk. You can imagine how much the docents loved me that day.
I passed out in the theater when I saw Collateral Damage because I drank a bottle of rum in the car before the movie. The last time I went to a movie, I took a flask of whiskey.
See? Wasn't my life just a bit more exciting than a sitcom at one time? A bunch of other stuff happened too, but it's hard to remember and I don't care to talk about myself all that much. I prefer just being pissed off and ranting about something.