I certainly didn't want to wait over a week to get out my second post (how dare I leave all four of my fans waiting), but this past weekend has left me in a malaise of drunken regrets and legitimate sickness. Only now do I feel the strength to post on my two and a half days spent in St. Louis for Mardi Gras and the Super Bowl.
First a word on the Super Bowl: Balki didn't let me down. The Giants beat the Patriots as preordained a week ago. I just wish I hadn't put 5G's on New York winning by over 100.
Now on to Mardi Gras: To give you a recap of events that transpired would most likely be boring and inaccurate (my memory gets hazy around 10pm Friday). So I will just give you a break down on the stats I truly remember:
Cigarettes smoked: Billions*
Alcoholic drinks consumed: Millions*
Beads procured and later discarded: Hundreds*
Parties attended without invite: 3
Girls kissed: 2 (Girls willingly kissed: 1)
Pickpockets thwarted: 1**
Boobies seen: 0***
*Estimations
**This is a pretty cool story: I was wandering around St. Louis, trailing my friends by a few yards, when I felt a hand reach down my back pocket grabbing for my wallet. At this moment I was very drunk, and even when I'm sober my reflexes are suspect at best, but I managed to shoot my hand back and grab on to the pickpockets wrist. He instantly started to apologize, and I realized he was an Irishman. And a small one at that. This tiny fucking Leprechaun was trying to lift my wallet (or "steal my gold" if you will). Here is the conversation that occurred between me and Thievie McStickyfingers:
Thievie: Sorry Man. I'm real drunk. Just playin' around.
Me: Well, that's not cool. (clever, I know--you can borrow it)
Thievie: I know. I know.
Me: Do you need money or something?
Thievie: What? Nah, man...I got plenty. (At this point, Thievie pulls out a large wad of mangled bills from his pocket) See?
Me: Well...I think you should give me some.
Thievie: Wha?
Me: Your money...give me some money.
Thievie: A dollar? (He tentatively holds out a crumpled bill)
Me: (not pushing my luck) That will be fine.
And therein lies the tale of how I made money off a pickpocket.
***No boobies at all? Ladies, what up? I know its a bit cold outside and its kind of degrading, but its Mardi Gras. Man up.
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5 comments:
I know you didn't see any of the breastage, but I vividly remember you telling me that you saw tons of wang on your drunken wanderings. So I guess its not a total loss.
Ah yes...the elusive Mardi Gras wang. It doesn't appear often, but when it does, it should be treasured.
Dude, two entries does not a blog make.
"Tons of wang" huh...is that what he told you. He wouldn't have seen jack shit if he hadn't caught me unaware while I dishing out some Jumbolaya for myself at the party. I don't know if it was his crafty stealth or the distracting aroma of the nearby red beans and rice that created the opportunity. All I know is my cock was hanging out and my Jumbolaya was no where to be found.
Brown, I just wanted to let you know how much I've enjoyed this blog over the past year and a half. You've really got your finger on the pulse of America, I actually come here to get a lot of my up-to-the-minute news. Again...thanks.
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