most well-deserved drunk in recent memory

This may or may not be true, but I feel like this weekend coming up is the first absolutely free weekend I’ve had in about ninety-seven months.  Here’s the plans, for anyone who plans to call me:

Friday: Get good and properly drunk.  Not blind drunk, not incontinent drunk, just comfortably numb, happy-go-lucky, night-sweaty drunk. 

 Saturday: Do some work (yeah, I know–wtf is that all about).  Then engage in online frivolity, get some sweet, then maybe watch March of the Penguins.   (We’re all about honesty here at Wasted Time.)

Sunday: Observe the sabbath.  Literally.  Just watch those poor sumbitches drive off to church at 8am while I watch them out the window drinking coffee and not wearing pants.

 That spells G-O-O-D–T-I-M-E-S, people.

 

Maybe I shouldnt’ t have decided to have a glass of wine while I prepared dinner, at 10 pm, after going for a 14 km run, then going to the store ‘cuz I didn’t have any pizza sauce and goddamnit i needed pizza and somehow it became 10 pm ‘cuz I had to work today and didn’t get home until like 5:30 pm and 14 km takes a long time to run. And I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.  And I lost 4 lbs on my run, i’m not making that up.  It’s true.  I must be really dehydrated, which means my blood voilume is really low and so my EtOH concentration must be high. But Iswear to you that I’ve only have 1/2 a glass of wine, but I nearly fell over when I just stood up just now.   Fuck, I’m such a cheap drunk.  Whow ould believe that the Jager Bombshell is a cheap drunk. BUt it’s true.  But not so drunk that I didn’t remember to put up my photo this time.  Are you proud of me, Brown Sugar Daddy?

 

Doctors Orders

There is an outside chance that tequila cure 90% of all problems. Please save yourself some cash and give it a try when ever you are faced with any real delima. If it does not provide an answer, then seek professional help.

It seems I have lost my pants. Damn you Skip Bo.

 

no, occifer, there is no problem.

There seems to be this issue with my posting fotos of m’self.  I just can’t do’t, cap’n.  I don’ have th’ pow’r!

 And then the stickykeys got noisy, so’s i shut ‘em orf.

 i’ve lately been readin’ a book [angela's ashes], and now i continousy feel like abbreviating my talk to sound as though i’m from lickerman.  or what’v'r the name o’ thi’ toyn is.

while enjoying the few beers’ that i’ hd in og’dn, i thought oy m’friend jogre.  i felt guil’y when i tho’t o’m'friend jogre.

“daav’s done dan fir’d ever’yone on wast’d time,” he said.

 an i din’s wan’s feel as tho’ i’d don’ mess’d it up fer h’m.  not a’ter blogh’rl.

jogre, this wastedtime is for you.

 (holy shit, is typing in “character’ diffivuly1  i tried tto type as though i were frankie mccourt.  not so much with the kych.  but my brother ius making me a sandwich, so what do i have to complain/0

jogre, daav, jager…. i will rte to let you down no longer.

9 e’n tho frankie says i’m talkin’ backwards.0

 

This is how, this is how, this is how I’m hot

And you ain’t ‘cuz your not.

Ya, that’s right, I said it.

These are the things that I learned at Caprice tonight:

• shorts + heels = skank
• white shorts + heels = skanky skank
• guys go to bars to get advice about marriage
• Wednesday is the new Friday.

In other news, my finger hurts and I don’t know why.  And the squeezing the lime fromt he tequila makes it doubly so.  I spilled some blow job on my shirt.  But not the good kind of blow job, so try not to get too exicte.d/

Oooh ooh!! I just reamembered Daav’s photo challenge.  Here’s my photo which i feel best represents drunkeness (which I finally managed to find, while sober, and saved to my desktop so even my drunky drunky self could find it) .  This is my mortal enemy, SFP.

I can’t rememeber about putting my own photo in here, so perhaps Jorge, teh drunken lord of druken blogging will do that for me?  Or perhaps I don’t want my photo int he same posting as this picutre of ugliness personified.

 

Having Bewbs

I have a wonderful analogy that I think everyone will appreciate.

This is based on personal experience.

I now know what it’s like to have boobs.

When I am holding my infant daughter, nobody looks me in the eye when they talk to me.

Jerks.

 

Don’t mind Daav — he’s always beligerent on Canada Day…

Hello!

According to the stats, it is time for my first post in approximately 6 months.  What can I say?  I have not been near a ‘puter when drinking (or when Beth is not nearby, stealing wireless internets). 

 Ahh – la fete (I have no circonflex) nationale du Canada.   This is my first Canada Day here as a resident of Our Nation’s Capitol.  We just finished watching fireworks while drinking…mmm…though we were up on the 3rd floor of our place, where we had a great view of them.  Laziness – beer + view of fireworks ten steps from home.  Rock!

 For posterity, and because Dave said I wouldn’t be able to remember (he should know better by now – I have a crazy stalker memory), I am going to detail where he and I were for the past 10 Canada Days.  Humour me, please:

2007- rocking the O-town.

2006 – back in London, England after puttering around the Baltic.  We were forced to watch England lose to Portugal in a HEARTBREAKING World Cup quaterfinal (and suffer the 35 degree plus heat).

2005 – We drove to Charlevoix (pronounced char-le-voy), Michigan.  We headed to Ben and Erin’s rehearsal dinner prior to their July 2nd wedding.

2004 – It was a Thursday; I had no vacation day and had to work on Friday.  We headed over to Jen and Greg’s appartment in Hyde Park to watch the Symphony of Fire.  Jen and I crashed; Dave and crew went to a bar.   Dave drank WAAAAY too much before heading to the bar and proceeded to do tequila shots.  He smushed dead flowers in Leanne’s face (‘preeeeety’, he kept imploring) on the way back while nearly being hit by cars.  His hangover the next day = legendary.

2003 – I went to Leanne’s cottage with Dawn.  We celebrated her 25th b-day and the end of  her 3-year relationship.  Dave sat at home with an engagement ring, having planned to pop the question prior to Leanne’s plea to come and spend the weekend with her.  Both Dave and I concur – Leanne was (and continues to be) totally worth it.

2002 – Sarah has just returned home from a trip to the Domincian Republic with Di and Dawn, after having finished writing her MSc. thesis.  She spends the day racked with gastro-intertinal illness.  Dave, on the other hand, is shitting on a box in the woods.

2001 – Sarah and Leanne head up to the Kennett cottage in a rental car, having spent the night before chilling with Dave watching AI:  Artificial Intelligence.  It is unlikely (though not impossible) that a movie has made Sarah SO INCREDIBLY ANGRY since.   Man – that movie F’n sucked.

2000 – Sarah is visiting G-town; Dave has just moved home.  Sarah spends the day (and the weekend) writing a capstone paper to a graduate-level study abroad course (International Food Laws – Asia) which has allowed her to visit Thailand, Korea and Japan (the same course having allowed her to visit the EU the year before).  The highlight of the weekend?  Sarah and her parents discover that, over the course of the day, they can put away 14 + pots of tea without blinking.  Even Dr. Bombshell’s mom would be impressed.

1999 – Sarah spends the weekend with Rich and Mike (and Janet and Skates) in Ottawa.  Canada Day evening full of rain, but we hide out in the National Gallery lobby and wait for the sky to clear and we see the fireworks.  Dave cannot remember what he was up to, as this was year 2 of the “Sarah and Dave break up for 2 years” period.

1998 – Sarah and Dave are broken up, but that doesn’t stop Dave from being a mensch.  Sarah is home for the summer; her last full summer at home during University.  Sarah has her 4, impacted wisdom teeth taken out on the 30th of June.  On July 1st, Dave comes by with popsicles and movies that he does NOT want to see, but Sarah does. 

When he leaves, Sarah’s mom gives her a guilt trip as to why they aren’t dating.  Subsequent guilt trip – Xmas 1999 (they’re still broken up).  Sarah is in bent over a toilet with food poisoning, engaging in her LEAST favourite thing on earth.  In between moments of retching, her Mom — so impressed by Dave coming by to cheer Sarah up and keep her company on Xmas day prior to a family party that Sarah has had to miss due to illness — keeps telling Sarah “you are taking him for granted.  He is wonderful.”

Guilt trips about Dave from her Mom — given while Sarah is in excruciating pain, then while puking.  It is a wonder that Sarah wasn’t conditioned to hate the boy.  Happily – Dave and Saraj got back together 2 weeks after the puking incident.  My parents (and she) could not be happier.

And on that (drunken, rambly note):  I wish you all and AMAZING 140th anniversary of the inception of our fair land.

 

Canada Day, up Canada way

So we thought we’d rock some mojitos tonight (along with beer, seeing as we just brought about 94 cases back from Hull at about $20 a case), and holy shit they make me drunky.  Ingrediants: rum, lime juice, sugar, club soda, and mint (which you’re supposed to muddle the mint, but for whatever that means we basically just mashed the mint to fuck with a fork, which I can only assume is what they meant by ‘muddle’.)  Anyhow, Sarah and I both had one around 2pm (first drink of the night, btw) and I swear to jebus it wasn’t made strong–tops: a shot and a half.  But we were goofy as fuck by the end of one drink. In the interests of full disclosure, we did substitute the sugar for sweetener (cause let’s be honest–brother’s gotta maintain his six pack (nay: eight pack (okay, fine: twelve pack)).  Anyhow, give it a whirl yersself and let me know what happens (cause us: whooooaaaaaaaolyshit!)

So it’s Canada Day, and for the first time in three years we’re actually in Ottawa for it.  Walked up to parliment around two, covorted among the sweaty masses, came home.  Hung out, sobered up, then I went for a run (still not sure what possessed me).  Anyway, during the run I saw many a party, but best of all I saw some dude do a keg stand in the middle of the street.  I didn’t do one myself–something about people not liking my sweaty bearded lips being on the nozzle–but I did at least have time to induct him.  He’s the new Wasted Time VP, by the way.  His name?  I wanna say Larry. 

Anyhow, moral being: you’re all still fucking fired.

 

Yer all fucking fired

I went for a while thinking, ‘What’s wrong with these people?  I can’t carry this whole site msyelf.”  But I came to an imporant discovery the other day.  I CAN!  I don’t need any of you sons of bitches.  Indeed.  All your moms are bitches.  From now on, consider this site Wasted Daav. 

I’ve got some drinking plans this summer.  I think I’ll see what bourbon’s all about first and foremost.  Totally not sure what the difference between bourbon and whisky is, it may all be brewed in the same Louisianna bathtub, but whatevs–I’m all about the bourbon says I.  And beer, of course.  Wouldn’t be summer without beer.  What else?  Moonshine, maybe?  I don’t yet have the connections to score that, but part of me thinks that one of the goals-before-I-die goals should be to drink moonshine.  Anyone out there got a hookup?  After that… I don’t know.  Maybe whippets.  Maybe I’ll consider booze taken care of and move straight on to whippits.

 

Fresh blood

So what’s the story? We only post in Calgary? Is that one of the rules now? I say unto you, NO SIR! The truth is, in Calgary there wasn’t much else to do except get drunk off your ass. But then we got home and got back to our precious non-stolen internets, and our fine hippy ways, and our sweet sweet sexytime involving someone that doesn’t have F.A.S. In short, we got distracted. But now we’re back. Don’t call in a comeback, bitches. (sorry stee.)

Gotta say though that we could benefit from some fresh blood. Proposed recruits for the Wasted Time 2007 Fiscal Year:

• Danny Devito
• The Cloones
• Charles Bukowski
• The Hoff
• My Dad