It had been a lifelong goal of mine to get a lapdance to the song "Ayo Technology." Something special. 50 Cent. Justin. Well, it wasn't the best song I heard that evening. On the giant video board, while some chick from New York (not the TV show or the coatcheck girl) grinded up on me, Nickelback's "Rockstar" blared. I actually had this thought:
"I fucking love this song."
Yes, I was pretty wasted. Well, this weekend blew that away. I may have a drinking problem. It's actually an eating problem. Probably both. When you're throwing back a diet of 400 to 700 calories a day, you tend to get pretty wasted on 11 or 12 beers.
Saturday night's trip to the Patio was one of the all-time besties. While McCampus was busy adding friends on Facebook, I met up with a buddy from work and his brother. Now, this kid knew everyone at the bar. It was an odd thing at the Patio for myself, despite me going there twice a week. I usually run into four or five people that I know there on a Friday night. Six or seven on a Saturday. This kid knew at least 60 people there. We did shots, we talked to randoms, we stayed 'til close (odd) and I never saw the Truth. This was odd considering me and the Truth made plans earlier in the evening. But you see, My Boy Whit was down in the German Village and the Truth's meeting us at 9:30 p.m., 10:45 p.m., midnight! and later never came to fruition. Taking the spot of the Truth was every hot chick in Columbus.
I went home and didn't pee on anyone or anything. That's a good thing. Disappointed I didn't see the Truth or My Boy Whit at Patio but my summer roomie, Miss July probably isn't disappointed she didn't see My Boy Whit. I think I could pee on her for 40 nights in a row (Noah-the-arc style) and I'd still rank above My Boy Whit in Miss July's Favorite People Rankings.
Why was I up that late? Not a clue.
- Compiled by Art McGregor