Brew Crew (and Other) Hangover

BREW CREW HANGOVER

They might never win another game. At least they are playing on the road this weekend, when I will be there. They have a puncher's chance on the road. At home, they can't do anything right lately. It is becoming borderline painful to watch. Schizophrenic as always. At least they didn't replace Doug Davis with Soup, which shows you how ridiculous it was that he was ever starting in the first place. But if you've got a guy who is only the 8th (assuming Villa is done starting) best starter on your team wasting space in the bullpen, why is he still here at all? Best to Doug Davis. The Brewers seem cursed this year. That Brewer-Cub game in September is looking better and better.

OTHER HANGOVER

My (Sports Bottle's) god. It is painful to type right now. I'm in BAD shape. This is in the top 3 worst second day hangovers I've ever had. And I can't really give you a good reason why. Everything went sort of as planned this weekend. I got really, really drunk on Friday. I wandered away about midnight and got yelled at (probably deservedly so). I blacked out and forgot how I got back to Schmock's house.

Saturday, I woke up with a hangover, killed it with an Excedrin and a screwdriver, and proceeded to get super ass drunk. I had a nice mixture of beer/caffinated mixed drinks, and somehow (I think, I'll be honest when I say I don't remember) stayed away from vodka/cranberry. Spent somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 straight hours at Pack R Place bar, ate a huge greasy burger, a brat and a chicken sandwich. Told a bunch of inappropriate jokes. Good times were had. Then we went to Schmock's parents, and things are a total blur. The only things I remember from the two hours or so we spent there were as follows: I was introduced to Code Red and Vodka, I ate a piece of pizza, we tried to set up my wife's perpetually single friend with another of our perpetually single friends via text message when said girl wasn't there and had never met the guy who was standing there with a three fingered chew in his cheek. I have no clue how much I drank in those two hours. Then we went back to the bar, where the only thing I know for sure is that I had at least one shot. At some point, we walked three miles (or one) back to Schmock's house. I think I immediately passed out.

And then....I puked. Alot, and without warning. I shouldn't say no warning. I had enough warning to get most of it in the toilet. Then I puked again. This time, I almost didn't make it to the bathroom, but thankfully I did. I have no clue what prompted the vomit. It has been awhile. I didn't miss it. Oh, and I blew all the blood vessels in my face and my eyes are yellow, so I look really, really bad. I got all sorts of stares and comments at work, but nobody came right out and said "What the fuck happened to your face?" Although I know they wanted to. Somehow I didn't fall asleep at my desk, or wind up in a ditch on the way home.

Did I mention that I'm doing this again (less one day) on Saturday night? It is a good thing the bars in Minneapolis close at like 10:45. On a scale of one to ten on levels of excitement, with 10 being most excited. I'm a negative 3. And it is only that high because I haven't seen Richard's sweet, sweet ass in like 6 months. But I've got to do what I've got to do. You are only sort of young once. And at some point I'm sure some kid will come along and ruin the opportunity to be completely retarded. And I've got a contract with Richard signed in blood to get blacked out every time I see him. So there is that.