The deal since thursday

The last couple of days have been busy to say the least.

Thursday
I last left of with a statement that we were approaching the Zoutival and it promised to be a helluva good time. Needless to say Zout made good on that promise. After staying in class to finish an assignment til about 3 pm, I headed home with dreams of making it to the gym, showering and heading out to Alfie's for a Pint and their showing of the U2 concert. None of that realy happend other than the shower part (thankfully) as I just vegged for about 2 hours talking to people who had messaged me to wish me a happy birthday. After the shower though, McM and Overcast took me out to dinner at Stooley's. I had a T-U-Wanna burger which was fantastic as well as a caesar salad. Because I took so long to shower and pretty myself, we were slightly running behind the time people were invited to come over. Needless to say, a few phone calls were recieved in regards to where we were. Our excuse is that there was a five minute problem with the door which required us to use a Trident. A fitting excuse.

At about 8pm, things got underway. The beiruit table was erected and Anchorman was slipped into the DVD player. Between a little "That's two Bitches!" and "Heyo!" a few drinks were consumed. At about 1030ish, Actiongal, BPIC and gal, showed up with guiness and muffins. An unbeatable combination. As the night progressed, people got drunker, I ended up smoking some type of plant covered wrapping and McM got himself into a verbal confrontation (which didn't go over well). Thus as we proceeded to the Peel Pub, he stayed home. I've since come to understand that both parties went at it and pushed each others buttons so I've concluded both were in the wrong. At the bar, I skulled a guiness, took a few random shots down and got yelled at by an off duty server for drunkenly going through jackets (on a pool table) when someone had come by earlier looking for a lost digital camera. I guess I figured I was Jacques Cousteau and could dive deep enough to find something lost.

After heading home (with some help) I proceeded to puke my gusts out about three times with the last round having a bonus tumble on my way to the washroom. By this time I knew I was in for a rough morning.

Friday to follow.