That's what I'm saying. I'm scrawny as hell at 130 lbs., but I could kick it with this guy and wouldn't end up making a complete ass out of myself in the meantime. In fact I drank nearly that much Saturday and still worked that night from 6-12, drank a little at work, then drank after work and went to sleep around 3:30.
Fuggin pansy!!! Actually, made me feel better. I have been 5'11 and 140 for about 10-12 years now. I've tried everything too and it just doesn't work! Dude, you are are razor thin! :hihi:
I clicked on this link but it said I had to register. They have a 7 day free trial but I don't want to sign up and give them all my info including credit card. If it's not too long can someone post it here? Thanks
Here you go Marty. If you enjoy reveling in others' (my) alcohol-induced misery, read on Reply ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ladies and gentlemen of the Dawgvent: As you may recall, I had to attend a wedding on Saturday in Columbus, Ohio. My entire extended family was there, and the service itself was quite nice. As an added bonus, I made it to a sports bar in time for Georgia's kickoff vs. LSU. Trouble is, I don't remember much after that. Upon arriving at the sports bar around 3:15, I ordered a 24-ounce Miller Lite draft to calm my frayed nerves. I had finished about half of this beer by the time the Dawgs received the opening kickoff. By halftime, I had imbibed three of these beers. During the halftime break, things took their first turn for the worse. My dad drove back from the hotel to the sports bar and instructed me to come with him. My mother, and the parents of the bride, were offended that I wouldn't make the beginning of the reception (it started at 6:00). Having informed each of these people months in advance that I would be arriving late to the reception, and encouraged by the alcohol coursing through my veins, I gave my dad a piece of my mind and refused to leave the bar. Several minutes later, my dad returned with his younger brother, a former NCAA defensive lineman with a short temper. They thought they were going to "make" me come back in time for the reception. They were wrong. Clearly inebriated at this point, I shouted them down in the bar, causing quite a scene. They left, red-faced and fuming; I returned to my seat at the bar and ordered another tall Miller Lite. By the end of the game, I had ingested six 24-ounce Miller Lites. I was completely Nite-Crewed. The plan had initially been for me to walk the 1.2 miles from the bar to the reception, but I found upon exiting the bar that (1) I couldn't walk straight and (2) there was a fence blocking pedestrian access to the main thoroughfare. I spent the next half-hour wandering drunkenly into a variety of restaurants and hotels, begging hostesses and desk clerks to call me a cab. It was all to no avail. Around 7:30, I was desperate, and a 22-year-old AmeriSuites clerk whose shift was just ending took pity on me. He offered to drive me back to the reception, and I drunkenly accepted the offer. I also accepted his offer of a bottle of Bud Light that he had stolen from the hotel where he worked. I finished 3/4 of that bottle IN THE CAR during the ten minutes it took to get to the reception. I exited the car, babbling incoherently about Ohio State football in an attempt at thanking the guy. I then stumbled into the reception, beer in hand. I was met by sixty glaring faces. My parents quickly cornered me to express their disappointment with my offensive refusal to come to the entire reception (I got there just after the cake was distributed). Barely able to stand by this point, I walked away as they were talking to me. [Note: details beyond this point are sketchy; I can only give you what little I do remember, along with what has since been related to me by witnesses.] I made a beeline for my cousin Becky, the bride, who was involved in a conversation with some other irrelevant people. I ignored them and began loudly talking to Becky. Embarrassed, she walked me over to the open bar (where I procured a bottle of Miller Lite) and submitted to a brief conversation with me. God only knows what I said to her; I can't remember a word of it. I do remember that, as she walked away, I was standing on the back of her dress, which responded with an angry ripping sound. Becky was not pleased. I then re-entered the large reception room, where I was met by an aunt with whom I have always had an excellent relationship. Tonight, my aunt was not interested in small talk -- she wanted to give me the third degree about exactly how inconsiderate I was. I argued vehemently with her, pointing out that I had tickets to the LSU game, and had openly told everyone for months that I would prefer to be at the game. Evidently, I also revealed some embarrassing truths about my father's child-rearing practices (e.g., that he was vocally concerned for years that both of my brothers and myself would turn out gay). This conversation was broken up by an uncle who wanted to tell me exactly how selfish I was. I walked away and got another beer. Next on my agenda was a phone call from one of my brothers. I think my dad had gotten him on the cell phone, then handed the phone off to me. At any rate, it was only a couple of hours ago that my brother told me the contents of this conversation: Me: "Ross! Georgia is the BEST F---ING TEAM IN THE GOD D--- COUNTRY! I CAN'T F--ING BELIEVE IT! They beat the S--- out of LSU!" Ross: "Are you really that drunk? Go give dad a titty twister!" Me: "Okay!" [Titty twister administered] "He loved it! Do realize how F---ING GOOD Georgia is? We won't lose a single MOTHER F---ING GAME!!! Tell me this, Ross: are you getting LAID? When was the last time you got LAID, man?" At this point, the father of the bride stormed over to me and said "Out. NOW! Get out of here!" I had failed to notice that I was sitting next to four cousins, ranging in age from four to thirteen. Regardless, I'm certain my torrent of obscenities could have been heard from the other side of the room. After concluding my conversation with Ross outside the hotel, I dropped my dad's cell phone down a concrete ditch. I salvaged the parts of it I could find, then went back inside for another beer. By this time, the evening was winding down. I walked the bride and groom to their room with a dwindling group of family, pointing out excitedly that I had ripped Becky's dress, but that wouldn't matter because her new husband would soon be finishing the job. After this, we all said our "goodbyes," and headed toward the hotel entrance. I made it to the entrance before the rest of my family, but evidently not before violently overturning and breaking a table in the hotel lobby. I spotted a taxi outside the door, and immediately thought I should hop in. The driver was a fresh-off-the-boat Ethiopian immigrant, and we engaged in a healthy discourse about the various freedoms he would enjoy as an American citizen. The cab fare was $30. Upon my arrival back at the hotel where we were staying, I took the elevator up to my room and began drunk-dialing current and ex-girlfriends. I was on the phone with one of them when, about 45 minutes after I had left the reception, my brother and dad appeared in the room. They were both irate. But the fun doesn't stop there. I spent the remainder of my conscious hours accomplishing the following in the hotel room: -breaking a lamp's light bulb with my bare hand -bleeding fairly profusely onto the sheets, carpet, and my own clothing -smashing the alarm clock on the nightstand -pouring Sprite all over my brother and his bed -somehow cutting my brother, who subsequently stained his Sprite-soaked sheets with blood from headboard to footboard When the phone awakened me this morning, I was still drunk, but had the beginnings of a monstrous hangover. Neither of my parents spoke a word to me during the 45-minute ride to the airport. Over the course of the day, as I flew from Columbus to Charlotte and finally to Atlanta, I sobered up and gained some clarity on exactly what I had done the night before. Here's a quick "greatest hits" of how I messed up my cousin's wedding day: -Stumbled aimlessly through Columbus, stopping at several high-class restaurants and risking arrest -Accepted a ride from a stranger, during which I practically shotgunned a beer in the vehicle -Missed the reception dinner, flower toss, and cake-cutting -Ripped the bride's gown -Argued with or yelled at several family members -Cursed at full volume, using all the worst curse words, in the company of several elementary-school-aged kids -Got thrown out of the reception by the father of the bride -Broke my dad's cell phone -Overturned and broke one of the hotel's tables -Left my family looking for me while I took a $30 cab ride -Destroyed my hotel room, on my father's tab This, ladies and gentlemen, is the worst-case scenario. This was a nightmare I could never have envisioned. I have NEVER previously made such an ass of myself while drinking, and certainly not on the WEDDING DAY of a family member. I'm not even sure how or when to apologize -- even worse, I don't know exactly what to apologize FOR, as I don't remember most of the converations/arguments I had! Any ideas? Funny as this may sound to an outsider, I have never felt so guilty about anything in all my life. I feel nauseous just thinking about how offensive I was. What, exactly, is the "right thing to do" in my position? -- 00 Dawg
