Friday, September 28, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
The Pong Crew
Well it's day two back to work after a vacation of wedding-ness, hot-tubs, friends, family, exceesive amounts of booze, hangovers more oppressive than chillin' with the Iranian president at a putt-putt golf course, whizzin' on floors, and attempted man on man accidental lovin. I guess that's where I'll start so it's documented. As my good friend Bill has stated in a recent email just now, Non is the blackout king. Dave, Non and I polished off a whopping 76 beers with a sliver of help from my girlfriend Joan. This does not include the handful of forsty ones inhaled at the bar earlier on this fine Tuesday. Generally I don't drink in this style anymore, but when you're hanging out with a few great old friends at the old college party house, sometimes binge chugging is called for and if there ever was three dudes to answer that call, Dave Non and I will be there to heed.
Ping Pong to the laymen is a simple recreational game reserved for YMCA's, rec rooms, and prison. To the three of us ping pong is s sacred ritual of alcohol abuse, and if you get close enough to our posse, it's damn near a right of passage. It has been literally years since I've played, and even more years since I've played with this particular crew of 3. 90 beers in the fridge the rituals began. Ping Pong lead to Volley Pong, Volley Pong led to Beer Pong, and finally Beer Pong led to Beer Die.
If you're unfamiliar with the fine game of Beer Die, look it up, but I warn you, there is no game that I know of that is more punishing, more destructive, more frightening to the organs of humans, than Beer Die.
I could tell you stories of the sport, of bringing the fiercest drinkers I know to their knees, but that's not what this post is about. This post is about Non; one of the fiercest drinkers I know by the way, and one of the ones who I have previously seen kneel down, get naked, vomit on oneself, and pass out from the mighty hand of this Thor of a game. Non sat out the first match and played the second- that's all it took. Now I don't want Non to come off as a pussy either, I mean before the game even got going we had already run a gauntlet of pro beer drinking contests for a solid 6 hours. But for the second time I've seen it, Beer Die swung it's mighty barley soaked hammer and squarley embedded it into my good friend's skull. Non gave the almighty stagger, stammer, stutter, mumbled something about having to go to bed, and waddled up the steps. White flag up, one man out, and mine was also to end shortly. A third game and Dave and I were done too.
Dave went up to his room where Non was also sleeping- Dave has two beds in his room, a floor bed set up and his own, across from each other. Non is sprawled between the two in a matter that Dave cannot get to bed. Dave does the kindly thing as opposed to kicking Non in the ribs until awakeness occurs and picks him up and places him on the floor bed. According to reports Non never missed a snore. Hours later, half in a coma, Dave awakens to the sound of running water in his bedroom, and of course it's Non pissing. One hand on the wall like a good drunk does, and whether it's true or not I'd like to believe that he was moaning too. A man can dream, right? Dave looked over and chose the ignorance is bliss route, sometimes good drunken sleep is more important than a man pissing on your bedroom floor. Ziiiiiiiip and it's back to bed for Non. Non staggered back to bed, bed went right when he should've gone left, and attempted to get in bed with Dave. As Dave shoved him back and away, Non's face only read "Why didn't the bed let me pass out in it like it usually does?" Another attempt failed thanks to the quick homophobic hand of Dave, and another look of confusion on Non's face. Another shove landed the poor guy in his own bed just feet away and this is wear my vacation ended, just hours before the flight home.
Generally in these writings I will try and stick with stories about me, sadly for Non and Dave my little life has been less than exciting since just 2 days ago, so cheers guys, you get the first post. Meanwhile for me it's a long day of work, substance abuse classes, finding $20 hopefully in an old jacket pocket, and AA. Followed by a few drinks at the bar.
Ping Pong to the laymen is a simple recreational game reserved for YMCA's, rec rooms, and prison. To the three of us ping pong is s sacred ritual of alcohol abuse, and if you get close enough to our posse, it's damn near a right of passage. It has been literally years since I've played, and even more years since I've played with this particular crew of 3. 90 beers in the fridge the rituals began. Ping Pong lead to Volley Pong, Volley Pong led to Beer Pong, and finally Beer Pong led to Beer Die.
If you're unfamiliar with the fine game of Beer Die, look it up, but I warn you, there is no game that I know of that is more punishing, more destructive, more frightening to the organs of humans, than Beer Die.
I could tell you stories of the sport, of bringing the fiercest drinkers I know to their knees, but that's not what this post is about. This post is about Non; one of the fiercest drinkers I know by the way, and one of the ones who I have previously seen kneel down, get naked, vomit on oneself, and pass out from the mighty hand of this Thor of a game. Non sat out the first match and played the second- that's all it took. Now I don't want Non to come off as a pussy either, I mean before the game even got going we had already run a gauntlet of pro beer drinking contests for a solid 6 hours. But for the second time I've seen it, Beer Die swung it's mighty barley soaked hammer and squarley embedded it into my good friend's skull. Non gave the almighty stagger, stammer, stutter, mumbled something about having to go to bed, and waddled up the steps. White flag up, one man out, and mine was also to end shortly. A third game and Dave and I were done too.
Dave went up to his room where Non was also sleeping- Dave has two beds in his room, a floor bed set up and his own, across from each other. Non is sprawled between the two in a matter that Dave cannot get to bed. Dave does the kindly thing as opposed to kicking Non in the ribs until awakeness occurs and picks him up and places him on the floor bed. According to reports Non never missed a snore. Hours later, half in a coma, Dave awakens to the sound of running water in his bedroom, and of course it's Non pissing. One hand on the wall like a good drunk does, and whether it's true or not I'd like to believe that he was moaning too. A man can dream, right? Dave looked over and chose the ignorance is bliss route, sometimes good drunken sleep is more important than a man pissing on your bedroom floor. Ziiiiiiiip and it's back to bed for Non. Non staggered back to bed, bed went right when he should've gone left, and attempted to get in bed with Dave. As Dave shoved him back and away, Non's face only read "Why didn't the bed let me pass out in it like it usually does?" Another attempt failed thanks to the quick homophobic hand of Dave, and another look of confusion on Non's face. Another shove landed the poor guy in his own bed just feet away and this is wear my vacation ended, just hours before the flight home.
Generally in these writings I will try and stick with stories about me, sadly for Non and Dave my little life has been less than exciting since just 2 days ago, so cheers guys, you get the first post. Meanwhile for me it's a long day of work, substance abuse classes, finding $20 hopefully in an old jacket pocket, and AA. Followed by a few drinks at the bar.
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