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November 05, 2011

Halloween and tequila don't mix!

I'm EXTREMELY hung over from a Halloween party last night/this morning and I must vent a little. Since I feel like any light much stronger than a lit match will most likely cause a severe cerebral hemorrhage I will stay indoors, in a dark room, and do my venting here.

First off, I am thoroughly convinced that Tequila is a liquid shot out of the Devil's asshole. It was created by God as punishment for a decision people make about 2 AM-- to drink it in little shot glasses-- when beer and mixed drinks are not providing a quick enough passage to the "I'm so drunk I'm cross eyed, hiccuping, peeing into someones boot" time of night. I'm not kidding about the peeing in boot thing, that is one of the things I do remember doing at around 4 in the morning. I remember because the tequila based logic that came with it. This thought was "Well, I don't want to be a scumbag and just piss on the carpet". I know it was 4 in the morning because I remember wobbling and staring at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to an open door of an EMPTY BATHROOM!!! What's worse than that is that while looking over there it never once occurred to me to stop peeing. The only thought that went through my head was "cool, at least I know where to go when I vomit about 2 seconds ago" This is the type of thinking tequila elicits.

I know Tequila is punishment from God, because I can still taste it. It has special Ungodly powers to cling to your tongue(like a baby monkey on its mom) for days after it has been drunk, causing a revolting vomitous backlash every time you swallow. I am dry heaving right now as I type.

Like the peeing in boot, the 2am Tequila decision is followed by an ever escalating amount of worse decisions. I will only tell you one other(that's all I remember anyway). That decision came at around 5am. Just imagine how bad it must have been since this was a full hour after my peeing decision.

This next decision was to start hitting on a girl in a Sponge Bob costume. As I slurred things at her, I remember thinking "Um, why does her breath smell like dead fish ? Oh I get it, it must be part of the costume." Yep, Tequila solves every mystery with unyielding logic. Not that it would have mattered, knowing me, a little halitosis is a pebble compared to the boulder sized maladies I've overlooked in women, while drinking Tequila.

My first clue that I was making a mistake should have been when my drunk friend pulled me up and asked if I was seriously hitting on that girl. To understand why that is relevant, I should point out that my buddy would sleep with Jabba the Hut's sister if she had fake boobs. So for him to say this, it must really mean something bad. Of course, I am writing this now and not thinking that many hours ago. So my only thought was, "Fuck you, I know your little game, as soon as I leave you'll swoop in and start hitting on her, man, now I'm glad I pissed in your boot". Now I don't know what happened after that, but I'm pretty sure I had sex. I know this because my ass hurts. I'm not saying I had sex with another man. I just know Tequila decisions get really kinky, and almost always painful. As it turns out the girl I thought was dressed as Sponge Bob wasn't wearing a costume. She was just wearing a XXXX large yellow Moo Moo that hid most of her enormous square sponge like body. Oh well, that's life.