Poop Shute

Last night I saw a friend of a friend who I haven't seen in about three years.

His name is John-John and he is a co-worker of my friend Brandon. The last time I saw him was the one and only time we ever met. I remember liking him and hoping he would become part of our little group/family, but I didn't see him again until last night.

When he walked into the bar I flashed back to that night three years ago. God damn was that a fun night. We all went out to dinner to Buca di Beppo for Brian's birthday and Brian insisted on buying everyone else dinner for his birthday... because he's weird or something, I don't know.

It was Brian's 21st and he and Brandon and John Roland were the only ones legal to drink yet, so they would order drinks and those of us sitting near enough would share. We had our own little private room so we weren't worried about getting caught.

I can't speak for everybody but I know that when John and I left that restaurant we were pretty toasty. We agreed to meet back up at my apartment to continue our little gathering, and some people collected money for an alcohol run on the way. I had been drinking wine at dinner and wanted to continue that trend so I asked them to get me a couple bottles of cheap wine.

We get to my apartment and whip out the wine bottles and begin to dig for the corkscrew... and find that it is MIA. Understand that this was the party pad for ASU in 2001, I mean we had parties like once a month, if not two or three times. So I knew that we had a corkscrew, but it was nowhere to be found. I started getting restless and half-jokingly suggested taking the bottles outside and breaking the necks off on the side of the building. It was agreed that this might cause tiny bits of broken glass to wind up in our systems and the idea was voted down.

Here's where John-John and I got all MacGuyver-drunk. We busted out my tool box and rummaged through it. Here's what we did: we took a 3" woodscrew and threaded it into the cork with a phillips head screwdriver and then used pliers to pull it out. This was one of those cheap-ass wines with the hard rubber corks so it definitely was a two person job. One person had to hold the bottle steady while the other did the work.

Never underestimate the ingenuity of a man separated from his buzz.

I also remember that John Roland kept filling up his mouth and spraying Brian with contents much to John's great amusement and Brian's great annoyance. I remember we played Kings. Near the end of the night I remember John and I getting into a bit of a wrestling match and beating the living hell out of each other. Not that we were actually mad at each other, it's just that overblown-on-alcohol-testosterone thing.

Good times.

Comments:

Sigh, you men, always trying to beat the hell out of each other intstead of making out. That's where you go wrong.
Ben Siemon | 04.15.05 - 8:45 pm | #

Ben Ben Ben, you just need to realize that punching and making out are really the same thing. It's just that one hurts more than the other.
TheRealDavid | 04.16.05 - 8:19 pm | #

Gravatar Making out sure can hurt sometimes. Especially when her boyfriend catches you.
Edward Carter | Homepage | 04.17.05 - 1:24 pm | #