Here we are again… Another Monday after a busy weekend of partying. For those who don’t know, we had a show last Saturday night at The North Star Bar. Tippy and The Shy Guys opened up, Even Man Out followed, and Those Guys closed the night.
Someone had the bright idea of getting a keg, and obvious shenanigans ensued. Beforehand, there may or may not have been a video game tournament with the best group of bros know to the Philadelphia area. Their calling card? Meat, booze, and a side of house beats courtesy of Club Wood. Cash was laid down, verbal assaults and slander spattered from tongues like drool from a feverishly hungry beast, and the nation’s terror threat level was upgraded to orange. The man known as Q is a terrorist, and not to be trusted with your daughters, or your household pets. Headquarters is used to this style of abuse, but little did it know of the impending doom to follow.
The night started late, as wave after wave of people starting coming to our apartment with hopes of inebriation, some live music, and the highly celebrated chance of falacio. The fruit punch concoction got everybody buzzed, and the keg kept those out on the deck nice and warm. Around midnight the whole crew, besides those who were underage, went over to the show. More booze was consumed, and the stage was set.
This has nothing to do with anything in this post.
If headquarters could have swollen itself shut to prevent the rest of the nights abuse, it probably would have. But our apartment doesn’t have those kinds of capabilities, so it just took it on the chin like a champ. Upon everyone’s return, the night shifted into high gear. Jovial merriment soon turned to drunken buffoonery, as a neighbors seating apparatus was launched from the top deck, along with an unsuspecting beverage cooler, into the underbrush below. I wish I had witnessed it. There was also a new addition to our beloved bedroom hallway in the form of an indentation that looks about the size of a child’s head. However, no children were in our vicinity that evening (thankfully). The location is about mid shank on a grown man. So either somebody bent over to punch the wall (doubt it), somebody kicked the wall in an awkwardly high spot (still doubt it), or somebody fell diagonally and hit their head on the wall. For my own mental congruence, I hope the last scenario is actually the case. My imagination has recreated the scenario as one of the most awkward stumbles known to man; both humiliating and debilitating. In that case, alright with it.
What I’m NOT alright with is a specific someone, who we all know, pissing himself on our couch. You know who you are you sick fuck! All the Fantastic, Pledge, and 409 in the world can’t take back what you have done. SHAME SIR, SHAME! Take a lap.
Besides that, we had one hell of a good time, and we expected a certain degree of foul play. All in all we’re still golden, and alarm should not be raised. Big shout out to the younger bros who didn’t burn the place down while we were all away at the bar. We are throwing an extra special under 21 show for you cats in November and December. Parties at your place though, suckers.
Until Next Time
-Those Guys
