Happy Birthday Joe!

Friday was Joe’s birthday. His 21st birthday, to be exact. Joe, excited by the prospects of finally being able to find out what alcohol tastes like…! decided to celebrate in the classic desultory manner of all good Madison college students (hah ha! i just wanted to bust out the word ‘desultory’…) by getting hammered to an extent unimaginable to mere mortals. But despite his outward appearance as a mild-mannered meek (some might say ‘emo’?) young lad – perhaps the type you would expect to see discussing the intricacies of Oprah’s latest book club selection at a Big Brothers Big Sisters meeting, – it seems that Joseph is hiding a dark, sinister secret deep, deep inside….
Joseph like alcohol… A LOT.
Now I should add that I have been locked in a life-or-death struggle with a deadly Pseudo-SARS type of disease for the past week. This, the fact that I was drowning in homework, and the fact that I had to work until midnight on Friday might have been enough to dissuade most level-headed individuals to perhaps take a pass on pub-crawling (well, in our case, more of an erratic ‘pub-hopping’) for the evening, maybe going home and enjoying a nice hour or two of Home Shopping Network on the telly before slowly drifting off to a hazy bliss.
But while Joe and I may not be marines, we do know the value of never leaving a man behind, and if Joe was going to get shitfaced, then by god, it is my duty as his friend to be there to help capture the shame, illness be damned. So against all better judgement (aided by a steadily repeated mantra of “I am not sick… I am not sick…”) and in conjunction with a strongly held belief that alcohol would help me recover all the faster, I trooped out to meet Joe and his posse at the local pub.
The first thing that struck me about Joe was his dedication to the insurmountable task at hand (namely to lose control of all bodily functions by the end of the night). Here we see the grit and determination of a true athelete, as Victoria, relegated to the less-than-desirable task of “designated sober person” (DSP – sorry, no cool acronymns here…) loyally holds his hand while smiling sweetly for the camera. I believe she is trying to consider how she is going to drag Joe up the stairs later on in the evening.
Moved i equal parts by Victoria’s compassion and the rapid consumption of several shots on an empty stomach, I decide it would be a nice time to bust out a little impromptu waltz. We don’t get very far before my inner ear determines that ‘homey don’t play that’ right about now. I might add that this is not a very flattering picture, as far as these things go.
Kelly seems to be pretty impressed with our performance. Joe on the other hand, is more interested in the multiple fuzzy images of guiness swirling around in the distant horizon.
Actually, I think I’m beginning to see them too. Pretty fuzzy images!!! Must touch!! Must play…!!! Must drink…!! oohhh…oohdsugughhhhh…. *trails off into incoherent mush*
I bought Joe several shots. His favorite was probably the Three Wise Men on Heroin, the heroin part being the liberal splash of tobasco mixed in there unbeknownst to him. Here we see him with the beer chaser, mouth still aflame and eyes silently cursing me from behind his glasses, tears pooling at the rims… Ah, don’t be so mad, I had one too! (course i knew what was coming….)
After a few drinks, everybody starts to love everybody. I love Kelly…
I love Victoria…(or at least my lower jaw does).
I love Joe… (and the motherfsckin WEST SIDE…errr…. *nervous cough*)
And Joe loves me……..
And on that note, I decided it was time to call it a night. This was not the most flattering shot of the evening either, I should add.
One final bit of excitement. Upon exiting the various bars, we were confronted by this:
Yes, that is a flaming kiosk folks. Joe, ever the good citizen, determined it would be a good idea to go piss all over it to put it out “before it posed a danger to the public”, an idea I actively encouraged in order to get some great shots. Fortunately, Victoria, ever the voice of (sober) reason, managed to deter us from this course of action and we got out of there before the police showed up.
Ah, good times…!
Now listening to: “Scarface: On my block”
(On my block – it’s like the world don’t exist / We stay confined to this small little section with dividends / Oh my block, I wouldn’t trade it for the world / cuz I love these ghetto boys and girls…)
12:51 pm

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