This was my favorite tie of all time.

I once owned this tie:

Not my actual former tie.  Some lucky, blessed person's current tie.

Not my actual former tie. Some lucky, blessed person’s current tie.

A friend of mine gave me a magical Hulk tie that I was proud to wear.  But then, one night, in the midst of stupid folly, I wore the tie to a bar.  The Black Dog bar…

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The two reminded me of each other 2

"I have your scarf and I've taken it to Germany."

“I have your scarf and I’ve taken it to Germany.”

Keystone Light and Snakes:  a winning combination.

Keystone Light and Snakes: a winning combination.

Boy, we sure had some fun times back in the day!  Didn’t we Bleached Blonde Mike?

Par-Tay!!!

Par-Tay!!!

 

I still have issues…

About 8 years ago I started writing a bad sketch comedy called “The Adventures of Count Dracula and Mike.”  just because some drunk high schoolers we met in a parking lot didn’t understand what I was saying.

Bleh, bleh...  I'm a vampire.  Bleh...  I mean TOO MUCH SODIUM!!!  AAAHHH!!!

Bleh, bleh… I’m a vampire. Bleh… I mean TOO MUCH SODIUM!!! AAAHHH!!!

These adventures had to do with my future roommate and Count Dracula sharing a one bedroom apartment and getting on each others’ nerves.  Then I had to move in with him and it became real life.  Ouch.

So I started doing sketches for a comic that would feature our terrible life together.  Within a few weeks of me moving in he found his ex-girlfriend on some hippy porno website which inspired me to have his computer be an acting character.  It was going to taunt us with things it found online that it knew would upset us.  Yeah, this was when Myspace was starting to pick up.  Screw you Friendster, Myspace 4ever!

In the end I never did anything more than a few pages of drawings and some notes on a story called “Bigfoot Took My Beer, What an Ass!”  Last week I did find  one of those pages and scanned it for you to point and laugh at its crappiness.  Enjoy:

mattmikecomic

 

 

Myspace blog: I dated a Mexican girl.

It ended well.

I found some of my Myspace blogs.  This one is from January 28, 2008…  a very scary time in my life.  But hey, it happened.  And I’m just copying it so blame my editing on the Matt of Christmas Past…

 

WHOO-HOO!!!

 

Run over by the weekend…

So, the binge is over.  No more random texts to people seeing if they can guess what I’m wearing.  My angry tummy slowly readjusting from wackiness.  Painful memories of the return of the second incarnation of the Drunkateers.  Nobody’s family members yelled at me.  Well, that I can remember.  Soar throat, painful back and a my insides slowly getting out of their funk.

Sometimes its hard to think where it started.  Friday in Lake Dallas with airplane bottles that Jeff was nice enough to give me, then off to the Mavs game at the AAC.  Home of the $7 beer.  Ouch.  Then came the party with the olds.  Drinks and I was the second youngest person there.  That’s a party.

Why am I listening to Son of Sam?

Well Whataburger followed and then sleeping on a nicer couch than usual.  Oh, and I’m not sure what texting went on that night but it can’t be good.  Thank God I erase everything in my texting path.  Also that I don’t have a camera phone.  Or a court illustrator.  1920’s reporter maybe.

So at about 11 am, shortly after I got to sleep (I lie, I have no idea when sleep came) I was awoken by a text reminding me of the wonders of early Saturday afternoon.  Rahr.  I drug my carcass to my car eventually and headed back toward Bedford, home of the Seabeasts.

Feist, now…

So, a can of Steel Reserve and dilly-dallying got me to Rahr at about 1:30 so first free beer at about 1:50.  Oh, and they’ve done away with the bottlecaps for awhile because people were stockpiling them and getting really drunk.  That was fine by me because I didn’t have the time to chug  even the 4 beers you receive.  They stopped serving, I peed, there was talk of strip club going and I headed home.  To my other 2 cans of Steel Reserve.  The next few hours were confusing.

So, Emily got off work and there was talk of a party and Gators.  Yes, Gators.  So Mike had Sunday off and we got him to go out.  Yes, Michael Wayne Martin left the apt for longer than an hour for something non-work related.  Now, Gators was, well, Gators.  Mike expressed his dislike for horny black men and their fruity drinks, we finished our large mugs and headed out toward Northside.  Of course we purchased more alcohol.  A few quick drinks, Red Dwarf playing on the TV and some telephone drama then it was time to swing by the Chatroom and come back when it closed.  See there was this buzzing in the back of my head or maybe I was just drunk and wanted to punch someone in the tit. 

Drank the usual, ran into a few people, threated the jukebox then the urinal and then through the door walked a man that was once a skinny as Mike (aka Spider), Mark Shaw.  With the army and parenthood having taken away one of the original Drunkateers Mike was called upon to join the other two in their lowly lives of drinking.  The Three Drunkateers had been reunited.  Heaven help us.

Daft Punk now, followed by Gorillaz.

Mark had a problem with couch size, so he asked us kindly if he could crash at our place.  We said sure and even offered to take him home the next day.  Then the bar closed.  Back to Northside, now featuring the drummer of Brickfight.  The party had somewhat grown and Mark had 151.  Yes, 151.  Emily dropped us off at the apt sometime around 5 am, with Mad Dog awaiting us.  I fell asleep (or passed out, if you prefer) at about 6 as Mike and Mark were throwing darts.  I woke up a little later to find Frank staring in fear at Mark’s lying form and slowly backing away from the couch.  I picked him up and set him on Mike’s bed only to find him in the same exact position 30 minutes later when I needed to pee. 

I woke up…  Wait I need to start another song…  Nim Vind.

I woke up serveral times, fed the cats finally getting up for good at about 3:30, an hour and a half after Mark was supposed to be at work.  Eh, it happens.  I tried the hair of the dog, but my body was done.  I think that I was somewhat drunk nonstop for over 48 hours.  First beer on Friday at 3:30 pm and the 151 and Coke was finished around 5:00 pm on Sunday right before I took Mark home.  Then Mike and I ate Cici’s (which always makes me sick now) and purchased fine tools for McDonalds (you knew that would enter into this story somehow).
Then I gave up and crashed.

Well, it was a fun weekend.  The Mavs won their game we went to and I got to see Kobe Bryant score 40 points and not rape anyone.  There was some drama, but that always will happen if you are around several large groups of people in a short period of time.  And we all got to laugh at Mike as her drooled on himself.  Ah, good times.

It was fun, thanks everyone I got to hang out with this weekend.

People knew and respected us.

And I still dislike you Kobe.

 

Drunk Christmas in September…

I was digging around the interweb and found out this song existed…

John Denver had issues.  And then it lead me to this:

Why am I thinking about Christmas right now?  Damn you Internet!!!

Only the Hulk can save me now!!!

What does that even mean?

 

This has been yelled at me…

“Why all these white folk in my house?”

It wasn’t actually his house, it was a bar.  And it wasn’t actually the guy above it was Big Time:

“I bought the whole Interweb for $10,000!!!”

Ah, Big Time, a man of many loud words and many cheap products that he’d try to sell you.  More on him later…

 

Covering drunk people with crap.

Drinking with friends, what could go wrong?  Well, buster, you better stay awake or else bad things will happen…

Two days later I was wondering where my oatmeal had gone…

Or people stuff crayons in your clothes.

No children were anywhere near these people. Why did they have crayons?

Or you could be wide awake and a drunk person could cover you with curry powder…

My fine Evening Wear… RUINED!!!

But the scariest thing is your parents may done the same thing…

“Years from now there will be an ‘Internet’ and brave explorers shall find this picture of your shame.”