Drinking with Edgar, NEW FRIENDSTER ACCOUNT

Friday, December 8, 2006

Yesterday I got upset over something. Something which I won't get into detail anymore because as with most of the things I get upset over, it's something that's both silly and puerile. I decided that the best way to alleviate said feeling is to drop by the convenience store on my way home from work and pick up 3 liters of strong beer.

I can't drink alone of course as that would be even more pathetic. So I decided to give my good buddy Marco (not to be confused with Marco, the site guy as he doesn't drink and wears skirts and has a vagina) and invite him over my place for some ass play—guy friend comfort, I mean(this isn't any better, fuck). I should mention that Marco is one of my best friends growing up here in The QC; a hardcore boozer I've spent many a midnight sloshed and high at a pares place, yelling inappropriate things at other drunks and women patrons. But mostly women. Much to my dismay, Marco begged off citing “Being married, having work at 4 am, taking care of his health by watching his drinking and something about growing a vagina where his penis used to be” as some of his reasons.

Okay, first of all, I am not going to go down the “Married life is so fucking stupid” path because I know there's quite a number of you here who read this great blog are women who are married or getting married and you'd probably send me assloads of emails saying, “Well that's what husbands are supposed to do asshole, they take care of their family and become responsible.” (Stupid, stupid fucking Women I swear to God. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say that women like these were the butt ends of scorn and disdain from their respective husbands' friends and they'd sink their mangy harpy claws at any guy who thinks having fun while married is actually possible) Besides, I myself am getting married to a really wonderful girl two years from now, and sooner or later, I must come to terms with this reality.

But wow, Marco watching his drinking. Watching his fucking drinking. Wow. This coming from a guy I've seen on a totally different level of drunkenness so many times in my life; from a guy who got so drunk and high one time he gave away his wallet in a bar to some random girl and gave a cab driver a handjob because he didn't have money on him to pay for his fare. This really comes a shock to me.

So I'm left with a really tough choice. I have three liters of beer with me and nobody to drink with. I could go ahead and drink all of it by myself and end up getting so drunk that I would shit on my own hands and throw it at passing cars afterwards; OR, I could drink with my uncle Edgar who's staying with us indefinitely.

Now a few qualms about drinking with somebody twice as old as I am: First, what the hell are we supposed to talk about? I mean I could imagine somebody who's over 50 years old being into stuff like politics, economics, extra-terrestrial life or whatever boring stuff 50 year-olds talk about. Second, he's still my uncle And uncles have this penchant for being pains in the ass and being overly critical of their nephews' lifestyles particularly their healths. Now for somebody who guzzles beer like a maniac and smokes like two cigarettes simultaneously every 5 minutes, this is not good.

Much to my surprise, my uncle wasn't so bad after all. He talked, and in better detail than I could ever hope to deliver, about how faulty and superfluous James Patterson's prose is and about how life should just be one ginormous fuckfest especially for young people like myself. (Although I disagree on him with regards to that fuckfest bit. I believe that young people, ENGAGED young people like myself especially, should commit themselves to a life of changing for the better; a life of waiting for their Fiancees while they spend 5 hours shopping for shoes; a life of blissful monogamy where you have sex with only one partner. Again, Mayne baby, if you're reading this, I love you)

So yeah, while my friend Marco was busy preparing milk for his baby and probably at the end of his wits enduring hours of nagging from his fat wife, my uncle Edgar and I drank three liters of Red Horse and two bottles of Gran Matador brandy; enjoying a profound discourse on the intricacies of a man's life while Mick Jagger and the rest of the 'Stones play background music for us.

God, I love to drink.

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