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.

 

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Go Pacers!

Please, please, please have a team I don’t hate in the Finals!!!

 

 

Basketball, meh.

The Dallas Mavericks are out and I just can’t find another team to root for in the NBA playoffs.  Now, I can find a whole bunch of teams to root against so I’m hoping for a Clippers/Pacers final.  And hoping the Heat never win a championship as long as LeBron is there.  They’ve got the perfect excuse for this year with Chris Bosh’s injury!

“But, Bron-Bron, I didn’t mean to get hurt!”

 

Flopping in the NBA

Real quick thought, and I’ll admit my bias: I’m a Dallas Mavericks fan and I dislike the San Antonio Spurs.  Well, I’m watching the Warriors/Lakers game right now and was marvelling at Pau Gasol looking like a carp thown onto a dock after being yanked out of the water.  So I went to Google Images and looked up “NBA flop” and this is the first picture:

"But he touched my butt!"

It made me smile.  With basketball as well as baseball and hockey you primarily hear the local broadcast.  And many of the local broadcasters are former players for the team they’re working for.  Homerism occurs alot and I’m sure people tend to notice it more when they have to hear the other team’s broadcast.  Or when Charles Barkley has made a bet.  But this being the first picture when I searched on Google made me feel a little bit better about my bias.