My 7 Day Bender (good reading if you are bored at work)

[Bone]

“Why is it that when you drink seven nights a week in college you are a partier, but after you graduate you are an alcoholic?”

I just completed my first 7 day drunk bender in recent memory. Sure I have had many, many 4 or 5 day benders mixed in there, but I have not had a full 7 day drunkfest in a few years. Sitting here trying to piece together the last seven days is like trying to find WMD’s, sure I have an idea of what happened but the details are a little fuzzy at best.

So to the best of my knowledge and with the full disclaimer that parts of the story might be missing (like how I woke up naked with a nine iron, fuzzy handcuffs, and batman mask one morning) I present to you a day by day recap of my seven 7 boozathon.

It all started with, ahhh yes, Tuesday Boozeday. That yee old tradition started in St. Louis has spread its wings to Lexington, KY and now to DC. It sounded like a good idea at the time, rolling 4 deep with ladies into a pool hall know as Buffalo Billiards. FYI – telling the bartender one of the ladies you are with hasn’t had sex in 2 years will result in buttloads of shots coming your way, of course, all meant to get the lady drunk, but hey, you benefit from it too! The result though, the lady proceeds to get so drunk she passes out with her head down on the bar around 11pm, that’s after she puked on herself in the bathroom. She also puked on the metro ride home. I cared too, I offered my condolences from across the room as I played a wicked game of shuffleboard. Hey, I’ll baby-sit anytime, but I need $10 an hour and a six-year-old brat to make it worth it. The night ended early, but not before I watched the most pathetic pick up attempt ever by Dorky David. Drunk night one I the books.

Wednesday was chill, but drunk nevertheless. I didn’t mean to get drunk (as any good drunk will tell you), “It just happened.” It started as every night at my house does, just a few beers and a couple of games of pool. It ended in a 12 pack. Somewhere in between I managed to kick the living shit out of my roommates in bar games, going 4-0 in foosball and 2-0 in 8-ball pool. I rock. Oh ya, at some point in the game I named my foosball players (the white team). My goalkeeper is Bob, center defenseman is Tyler, and my center forward is Austin. I am pretty sure there is a Todd in there somewhere as well. My roomies team (the black team) apparently was also named: Goalkeeper is Tramaine, forward center is Germaine, I think there is a Tron in there too along with Ongalo and Lemonagalo. Good news is that the darts stayed hidden. Drunk night number two.

Thursday Thursday Thursday, oh how on long for you. A traditional drinking night for both collegiates and professionals. No wonder why absolutely nothing gets done in the office or in the classroom. Thursdays for me are Irish days, a time when we can all drink and be merry and sing along to our favorite Irish Tunes. Ever see a drunk Englishman do the river dance? Come to Fado’s in DC Chinatown every Thursday, buy him a few Stella’s and you will most certainly puke from laughing so hard. Last Thursday was special, it is Christmas time and the band decided to play a few holiday tunes. Of course when they took a break I had the bright idea to continue the moment. Carpe Diem right? I busted out my version of Silent Night and led the bar in several other Christmas songs following. I will tell you, Jingle Bells and Here Comes Santa never sounded better. The holiday cheer was lost however when the aforementioned drunk Englishman started chanting “Fuck You Wankers” to the band when they played the song about the IRA. I’m no historian, but apparently there is still some bad blood there. Take it to the futbol (soccer) field boys. Drunk night number three in the books.

It’s Friday and I’m in love. At this point the weekend was approaching and I am starting to feel like that guy in Super Size Me, a little fat, depressed, and in general just disgusting. If McDonalds food makes you crave McDonalds food, then what the fuck does beer do to you? Why did I wake up Friday and want to head to the fridge for a pint? I digress. Friday was my household’s very private Christmas party. If you are not aware the Rhode Island Pub had over 130 people at its first party, and only having lived in the District for 3 months. We had to work hard to keep the Christmas gathering under 20. Nevertheless, it might have been the 20 most drunk people to date I have seen. Who puts ten high in eggnog anyway? Well, it’s not the typical whiskey, but it was left over from another night so we did it. When the 15-foot beer bong reared its ugly head again I knew I was in trouble. A bottle of crown later and several shots of jaegar, my face for some reason was turning purple. A purple face didn’t stop me from hitting on chicks, hey, it’s my party and I will have a purple face if I want to. Looking like tickle me Elmo’s purple and unattractive cousin, I did not fare so well. At 4:30am I did walk in on my roommate and his girlfriend half-naked having a “dance party” to “Sweet Caroline.” I should have cockblocked to get back at him from earlier in the night when he kneed me in the nuts, put his arm around me and said “Hey look, you’ve been kicked in the nuts.” Drunk night number four and still going strong.

Saturday night fever baby. OK, so I don’t have moves like John Travolta, but I am close. I had to bartend Saturday night so I fell behind my fellow partygoers. True I didn’t make it out until midnight, but I drank Beam on the rocks to catch up, of course followed by rounds of shots. And catch up I did. The party at my friends house was rockin. And when he whipped out the piano and the saxophone, I began to rock as well. Singing as only I could I began Robert Goulet’s version of the Thong Song. “Oh that dress looks scandalous…,” I shouted out to the cheers of everyone around me. “Shabang Shabop, Thong song.” I concluded. My next song, Big Poppa. Yes, Will Ferrell would be proud, or sue me for copyright infringement, he probably does have that type of ego now. I left the party around 3:30am as the last remaining guy was swing dancing in the living room by himself. And I thought I was “that guy” at the party, good thing someone else beat me to it. Drunk night number five and I am oh oh oh oh stayin alive.

Sunday is my funday. Work Christmas party, blah blah blah. I did eat some good food though. And as I said before, I didn’t plan on getting drunk. I blame this one on the bartenders at the party for allowing me to drink a bottle Chardonnay. I do thank them for abruptly cutting me off at 3:30pm when the party was supposed to end, though their tip would have been bigger for “just one more drink man.” I did try to teach the Don Juan ways to the one our Veep’s children, 2 and 5 years old respectively. I guess they still think girls have “cuddies.” At my age, cuddies are code word for another thing a girl might have! I thought my night might end after my friend dropped me off shitcanned at my house. After all, nobody was home yet and I should have passed out. But no, a few more beers and a few games of pool later, I found myself at a table for four at Hooters. Oddly enough, the girl I was with had better hooters than most of the employees. Three of us sucked down four pitchers and 40 wings, all the while witnessing one of the weirdest things I have ever seen. A guy in black suit with black Adidas shoes (key word here). Kind of a Drew Carey looking feller. He kept sticking his foot out and the girls kept stepping on it every time they went by. Turns out this sick bastard has a foot fetish. He pays the girls to step on his feet and even offers to buy them very expensive new shoes to do so. Hey sicko jackass, why don’t you buy yourself some Johnston and Murphy’s to go with that suit and try hitting on girls like the rest of us do. If you have that much money to burn you don’t need pretty looks to get laid. You are an embarrassment to all men. Not sure what time I went to bed or how I ended up home, but drunk night number six was history.

Now that I blatantly disregarded the Bible’s request to reserve Sunday as a day of rest, surely I could make Monday that day. That was my plan until “All of the Kings Men” (AKA all of my roommates girlfriends) happened to be out of town. A long trip to the liquor store (20 yards next door) was it all it took to convince me we need to have a “roommate night.” Guys will be guys. We drank a case of Miller Lite, burped, farted, played foosball, and shot pool all night. I retained my unbeaten streak in Foosball with another 3-0 performance, bringing my weekly total to 7 games won and zero lost. I was 3-3 in cutthroat and 2-1 in 8-ball, not bad considering the week I had. After the round of Captain Morgan shots, the musically talented [urr challenged] trio (one roommate pussed out and went to bed) decided to make music. I shed a tear as my baby (affectionately known as my guitar) received its first scar as one roommate recklessly swung a drum around and hit me. Later a blind was broken in a violent attempt to rectify a bad pool shot. We were so loud the guy that is living below us had to sleep in the den – sorry dude. Next time JOIN US you old bastard! A guys night it was. It was also a perfect ending to 7 straight nights of drinking.

Call me an alcoholic, call me a partier, and as long as you call me when you are drunk, we will get along just fine.

[Shonus Andronicus]

I love you.

In a purely platonic way, of course.

But still. You ever find yourself in Minnesota, give me a call, we will be strange together.

[General E. Fubar]

I second this... I will be off for at least 5 days at new years (only because I have worked every fucking holiday this year) but I will drink at least $250 in that week. I have never gone to a meeting, and never will. Fuck establishment.

[vp075]

Its not a bender if you drink at night for seven days in a row. Thats what I call a week.

Its a bender if you drink all day for seven days in a row.

Still, good story.

-V

[General E. Fubar]

The only "bender" I know of

[Gwynn]

Great storie Bone! sounds like you had fun!

[louhan]

The only "bender" I know of

shit if all u have to do is drink at night I guess I'm on like a 40 something day bender lmao

I loved your story man

[Saltandgin]

Good story mate, the drunk limey at the bar amused me no-end as well. :lol:

[vat69]

fantastic stuff, bone. in australia, most kids, if they havent allready, have their first 7 day benders when they are 17. its called leavers. its where most school leavers around the country set off on a massive drunk to celebrate, well, leaving school.

[Shot Time]

Pretty impressive Bone. I'm especially amazed by your ability to keep drinking on Sunday after thinking that you were gonna pass out.