I Wish I Was Asian

Guess You Could Call it a Weekend



I'm slowly curbing my drinking to just weekends. This has been a lot of fun.

Ha ha hiiiiiiasdhgh;dhgkfds;hg;dhsag;dshl

So, when Friday rolled around I found myself anticipated a night of drinking.

When it came, I realized it wasn't much more fun than the sober night from before.

Have I found something here? Maybe booze and drugs aren't the maniac ride that I thought would bring me closer to God?

Most definitely.

But, I'll still drink on weekends; even if it ends up I'm puking Hooter's fries and 911 strips into my toilet bowl.

We started off modest, at the piece of shit, non-smoking chain restaurant, Red Robin.

Ross (token black guy), Chris (token retarded guy), and Scott (token Catholic guy) began drinking around 4. After 45 minutes of shitty service (bartender was too busy spinning glasses and checking the receipt paper stock to serve us) we left.

Ross and Chris took off to pick up their sons from wherever and Scott and I went to the Joker for more boredom.

At the Joker we drank.

That's it. Nothing happened whatsoever, and this is coming from a guy who found a way to write three paragraphs about a bag of ice.

Scott's girlfriend showed up from some business trip and Scott left and I took off for Hooters.

Ross was over there with his son and I told him I'd meet up with him.

But, first I stopped off at home.

To my surprise, this credit card company sent me a credit card I signed up for in some fit of desperation.

I now had a grand in my pocket.

I walked down to Hooters.

I thought of calling up a limo, considering I had 1000 dollars in my pocket that I'm too stupid to realize comes with so many chains and shackles that it should have been sent with some prison food.

At Hooters I found Ross drunk. I was drunk as well, so this worked out nicely.

The night progressed and Ross and I got drunker.

When Ross gets drunk he likes to proclaim that every white chick in the place only likes brothers.

I encourage this, as there's no reason to believe the women working in Hooters even like men.

The amount of fake-itude in their delivery of flirts is so unbelievable they remind me of the last woman who told me "You know, I don't usually do this."

So, the night progressed and Ross was dead positive that this waitress that looked freaked out to even serve him had the hots for him.

"Dude, watch, I'm gonna ask her out and she's gonna say yes." I've never seen a man so sure about a woman. I even started to believe in him.

She comes up and before he orders another beer and is right about to plunge into whatever gibberish pickup line he had in mind, she cuts him off.

And not just verbally.

No more booze for Ross.

I quickly made a save and told the woman I was driving. She seemed OK by this, considering she wasn't present for my first eight beers.

I paid for the meal with my newfound riches (that I will be paying for for the next 10 to 12 years) and Ross gave me a ride home.

Once home I decided it was imperative to go blow more cash.

At Tower I purchased P.I.L., Autolux, Nails, Smiths, Primal Scream, LCD Soundsystem and a porno.

Oh, and I threw in some incense.

122 $ (USD).

Gravy.

I decided it was imperative that I max out my new credit card within the weekend.

I didn't make it.

You see credit card companies will decline your card if it's used as if it was just stolen from someone.

And that's just what I was doing.

The following day I blew another 125 on more CDs: Killing Joke, Saul Williams, PIL, Buzzcocks, Brainac, Gary Numan, TV on the Radio, and Cat Power.

I then bought my buddy Rob a 90-dollar wedding gift from Williams Sonoma.

Then, I went to buy a couple packs of cigarettes.

DECLINED!

I had 574 left! What the hell?

I was determined to be in debt for another grand and this credit card company was making it hard for me.

So, I called them up and found out that reckless spending is against their lending policies.

Fascists.

This left me fucked cuz I was going to take Rob and his new wife for dinner.

Luckily, I had some "cash" on another card to pay for it. It's also lucky that his wife was sick and couldn't make it.

At Peso's I got a burrito the size of Italy and Rob and I pointlessly talked about our parents being drunks and what a scum ball George Bush is.

Rob is a recovering Republican.

Sunday I went to dinner at my Mom's and left pissed.

My Mom gets pissed off at my cousin (mentally disabled, living with my Mom) and it ruins the evening.

My cousin is pretty much a 47-year-old with the mentality of a first grader. Everyone understands this, but I'm sure it gets annoying just like raising a first grader.



So, my Brewster's Millions plan of blowing a grand was foiled once again.



Pleace,

matt