This is completely unrelated to sports, so look away if you wish. After last weekend's performance at the OJSFA draft, I have come to the conclusion that if I don't practice drinking alot in the next 5 weeks, I will end up face down in the Mississippi River at Oktoberfest, just another statistic. I can't let that happen. So I have five weeks to give my liver a crash diet of poison so I can stay up past 11 p.m. It all begins this evening when the neighborhood block party takes place.
(I am admittedly a little upset it is tonight, as the Packers play the Broncos at 7 p.m. in a meaningless charade of a fake football game, which I will have to DVR and watch from start to finish some other time this weekend. Boy, this is the longest parenthesis ever, but this thought must continue. I'm sure some dipshit will keep updating me the score even though their won't be a TV or a radio outside to watch. I'm fine with that because it is preseason. However, if this was regular season, and I can't be planted in front of the TV or planted in a seat at Lambeau, I would fucking kill someone. Back to drinking.) Heading out to the backyard to enjoy people I normally just stare at out my patio door, and drink copious amounts of booze. Will probably "accidentally" drown one of their kids in a pool too.
Before you talk shit about a block party, listen to what happened last year. We have a Mexican guy that lives two houses away, who owns a store of some kind around town, anyways, he barely speaks English. So he shows up about 10 or so, when everyone is pretty fucked up, with a case of Corona and a smile. Then, he is forced to step up to the karaoke mic (yeah, my neighbor has a karaoke company, hence all the equipment) and he sings.....get ready for it......"La Bamba"!!! Fuckin' a he does. You haven't lived until you've heard something that awesome. To make a really long story short, I've gotta get used to being drunk again.
No comments:
Post a Comment