Saturday brought in an odd mixture of innocent, light-hearted fun and alcoholic excess. It’s odd because the last time I was involved in innocent, light-hearted fun I was still wearing diapers, and the last time I got involved in alcoholic excess, I ended up wearing diapers.

The day’s progression went something like this:

• We get together to build kites. Day not particularly windy. Hope will improve. In daunting defiance of true purpose of the evening, we do not stock on beer.
• We make it to public park with kites. Still sober. Lack of wind makes kite flying an exercise in futility.
• After running around for three hours trying to bring kites to respectable altitude, unanimous decision to get completely wasted is reached.
• At Der Krug (fancy german beer place), we start stocking on lemons to make contraband dehydrated meat taste better. Someone gives us odd look as we keep eating bits of brown stuff F’s pulling out of his crotch area.
• Girl, very married, claims she has more hair on her nipples than I do on my chest (very likely, author is almost as hairy as baby’s testicle). “Hairy nipples!!” becomes party’s battle cry for rest of evening.
• I start hitting on very married girl. The futility of the idea notwithstanding, she provides amusing list of obscenities for future reference.
• Conversation shifts to penis size. Apparently, all men at table have taken a ruler to our schlong at one time or another. When discussing her guy’s man-stick, whistles of appreciation are emitted by the only Significant Other at table. I let out the fact that on its spare time, my penis terrorizes Tokyo.
• Japanese average penis size is considerably smaller than Mexican average. Upon stumbling on this vital piece of information, we all turn and give the oriental guy at next table a hearty Nelson (Ha-ha!) while pointing.
• K reads Tarot to rest of party at our table. Waiter looks in, shiftily. Goes away mumbling something. Author may be slightly drunk by this point, since he is utterly convinced reading confirms self’s massive penis size.
• Time to crash another party.
• Party has industrial amounts of beer. Self’s doom is spelled by this point.
• I recognize one of attendees as local comic-book store clerk. Try to choke him to death demanding Batman’s “Long halloween”, backordered months ago.
• Comic book guy is actually a very funny, insightful individual.
• Everyone at party turning oddly wise and interesting. Empathy reaching all-time high.
• I am FUNNIEST PERSON EVAHR.
• I start poll to find out how many guys smell their hands after scratching their balls. Uncomfortable silence ensues. I decide they are all filthy liars.
• Conversation topic turns to performing blowjobs on self. Author the only person honest enough to admit he would hit it like the end of times.
• Rest of evening spent discreetly trying to reach own penis.
• Multiple cases of beer stolen, way home is undertaken. Singing ensues.
• Pass out at own bed. Incredible show of self control noted.

Sunday was horrible.

— sergio on February 21, 2005