Happy Hour Ends In Boxer/Brief Clad Gang Fight

Went to saddle ridge with the wife and some of our friends/co-workers last night, they got shitty drunk at happy hour and I somehow ended up in my under ware getting chased by gangsters on the waterfront. Just another fine example that BAD BAD things happen to you when you are sober. Oh I've learned from my mistake.

So to start, because I ramble, and there's no WAY that top paragraph is enough explanation of last night. Jess and I hit Saddle Ridge at 6:15 maybe 6:20, my wife who only drinks on occasion was L.I.T. by 7, that's right 7. ...And in the bathroom graciously giving back to the earth not 10 minuets later. But she's a trooper!!! She was still down to party...all...night.

We hung around 4th st, until the strippers got up and started dancing in the bar, that was a pretty clear indication that happy hour was over and sad hour was about to begin, this was no longer an "after work festivity" and everyone was "very drunk". There were admitted multiple plots to hook two of the co-workers up with one another. It was time to go.

It took us way to long to try to get everyone to the elevator and when we finally did it literally refused to take us to the right floor!!! The elevator had a personal vendetta with Mandy and desperately wanted to lock her inside it's steel jaws and entrap her while laughing like a maniac.
Andy was virtually IMPOSSABLE to wrangle to the car, (which we had to walk to, have you ever WALKED UP a parking garage?) He kept rabidly ranting about this insidious urge he had to walk by the river.

Andy: "cummon guuuies les go walkin by tha RIVER!!...We gotta go to the RIVER. Wudnt egh be fun ta gooo walk by the RIVER!!!"
and so forth, and so on.

At this point we were approached by security, who i ensured that I was sober (WTF?) and that we were happely leaving his nice quiet parking garage as soon as we could find the FREAKIN CAR.

So to apease Andy we headed to the waterfront, at which point we all decided to go swimming in the fountains. What a blast. Thats all I'm saying about that. You don't need to know much more, I ended up in my under ware in the fountain.

We were pulling things together and heading back to the car, when G-Dogg-Thug-Homie BASTARD comes barraling down the road in his Cadalic and nearly hit my wife while we were standing by the car. I steped out in the road and fussed at him to slow down and watch were he was going, at which point the car swerves and pulls over, two black men hop out and proceed to track me and andy down, with the definate intent to start some SERIOUS SHIT. Well I've never been one to back down to a good fight, O wait YES I HAVE. I ran...like a schoolgirl...In my underware...sokeing wet...sober as a hindu friggin cow. But were all safe, theres a lil more to tell but you just had to be there, and perhaps it's better forgotten at this point anyway.

So what did we do next?
DRENCHED,
regaining our wits after a gang war,
still buzzing a little.

We went to Waffle House
I put my pants on in the parking lot,
we driped all over the floor,
Andy after airing out his wet dollar bills for the waitress, put on his wet black dress socks on, at the diner table, while loudly apoliguising to the table across from us and explaining our adventures.
Chocolate chip waffels and Coffee.
Everybody returned safley to their cars,
Sleep.

I bet I feal more hung over than anyone else and I didn't ever drink, I'm at work at 745 A.M.
but I've learned from my mistakes.
and so forth, and so on.

Jezuspizza when will the managers learn not to send out companywide e-mails about the corn hole tournament being held behind the garage this afternoon.
I can audibly hear people laughing while sending back and forth e-mails in reply to one another that say such things as:
“Corn hole? Like there not fucking us hard enough already!!!”
Or
“Corn hole...behind the garage.....That’s what she said!!”
But she never said that.
Or perhaps the old favorite,
“Company Corn hole, isn’t that a double negative.”

Thought there are a few women at this company that I’m sure could really toss a sack. And that’s not a sexist statement either. There’s plenty of men at this company that know their way around a sack too. Anyway...enough about testicles, I’m getting off topic.

So perhaps there’s a generation gap here and our forefathers didn’t experience the same so called “social pressures”(bullshit cop-out as-it-may-be) Perhaps there is a generation wide disease affection all of us, but am I alone to suggest that to play corn hole enjoyably* one must consume a certain amount of ethyl based alcohol?

*(enjoyable is used in this context as an extension of fun, a duration. It is quite obvious that one can have “fun” while playing corn hole sober, however to play for an extended time and for the events to remain enjoyable, in this context it is suggested that alcohol consumption is a must.)

So, to conclude, this sentence will have too many commas, but that’s O.K. because I’m just not sure exactly, how to end it, and that’s not an issue, however…

I'll never smoke weed with Willie again,

OK so I've never smoked with Willie, but I'll never drink Budweiser with Zach again, especially after eating at the La Rosita taco stand.
The food was AMAZING, however after a night of hanging out and watching movies and drinking Budweiser which does not wanna sit well with the particular hot sauce I ingested
(I'll never make that mistake again),
my esophagus feels as though NAPALM would actually cool it!!!
Holy cow, and I'm drinking coffee, cause...well I'm not the brightest tool in the pencil box.
I did how ever discover in my altered state what the best thing since sliced bread is though. but I'll save that for another day.
And by the way...sliced bread...not so cool... Just a thought there.


So I was walking the Iguana when the farmer looked over and said, "Not today Buck, not today"


And on top of all that hullaballou, friggin Paul Newman is gonna die, and quite frankly I'm upset about this.