Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Drunken Asshole Adventure Pt 2.

Good morrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrning Vietnam!!!! And good morning to the rest of the world as well, because quite frankly, I don't think I have any followers in Vietnam. It just sounds cool to yell that out from time to time.

To all of you that checked out yesterdays drunken "choose your own adventure post" I say "good looking out", and for those of you who didn't....well....you guys can go eat a bag of discarded hermaphrodite foreskins. Uuuuughkkk (Clipse voice.)

Today we are going to continue the adventure, only sanz the part where you get to choose. From here on out I'll be picking what happens as I am the one with the blog. Nah-Nah-Nah Nah Nah Nahhhhhh (Jim Jones Voice.) Sometimes I wish I had an audio blog just for those parts. Ah well...on with the blog bitches!!!!

After Shanga finished telling his miraculously foolish tale, he Dezo and I were ready for a night on the town. First stop, hotel party at the Econo lodge on Pond Lilly....you know? Right across the street from the projects. Insert DJ Khaled Music...It's sooooo Hooooooooooood. But that was to be expected.

Upon arrival we find the scene uneventful. A few of my lil homies were there, room had a gigantic hot tub, but the thought of how much cheap chickenhead perfume sented semen and prostitute pubic hairs were clogging up the drain made it very unattractive. Just think of it as a public urinal for an AIDS ward full of drug addicted vagrant strippers pissing blood. Still wanna take a dip? I thought not. LOL.

We drink a few cocktails made with three Olives and Tampico (or some other hood juice that kinda looks like OJ, but tastes like coconut Tang) and get the f**k up outa there. It was cool....but we needed to holler at some hoes. Sausage fests are only permissible if you're all in the same frat (no homo.) So what. I'm biased.

Next we hit downtown to go fu*k with my boy Rahzy Von P at the Ivy. It's usually popping, but they were hosting a party for someone else and it flat out sucked when we arrived. Later it picked up and I apologized for writing it off as a bad experience and describing the dance floor as "as empty as a prostitutes soul." Apparently all the people were downstairs looking foolish, sweating through their thermals and cardigan sweaters that for some reason THEY WERE WEARING MID-AUGUST!! Smh...and yes, I am actually shaking my head right now. Pause.

Now that the scene has been set (hopefully in not too boring of a manner), lets get to the hogwash tomfoolery. As we approach the parking garage a goofy looking white boy straight up shoots the Ice-grill (Gives a long, hard, (pause), mean look) to my cousin DEZO. DEZO then walks off like a hoe, claiming he didn't see the guy looking him up and down. If this was true I advice him never to go into an aggressive gay club with that horrible depth perception and peripheral vision. LOL. Anyways, Shanga and I aren't having it.

Show: Yo, do you know him kid? If not, why are you looking at my cousin like that?

Shanga: Yea man, you looking at him like you bout to try and f**k him up!

Drunk-Bob Queer Pants: Ummmmm. Uhhhh. My boys dared me to ummmmm...come over....man, no problems. I don't want problems...Nevermind, this is stupid.

Sidenote: Unlike a catholic priest, he had no boys with him.

Next thing I know, he walks the other way and gets into an argument with another group of guys. I see the two guys knuckling up, getting ready to box. Naturally I tell the other guys friends to stay out of it and let it be a fair fight. LMAO. I don't even know any of these people but they listened. Why? I dunno....maybe they read the blog.

What happens next is something only the Iphone can tell. LOL. He got knocked the f**k out!!! (Smokey from Friday Voice). And you know this Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan (same voice.) See below.

Only someone who has just been knocked out cold can land like that in such an uncomfortable position. You can't make this shit up!!!! Also, he was actually snoring. Yes. He was knocked clean out. He got Chris Browned son. As EMS workers came a group of older white people told me "you better get out of here, just go!"

While I should have responded, "do I look dumb enough to have knocked this man out and then stand here taking pictures, waiting for the cops to come Mrs. Leather-faced cougar, I'm too old to be out clubbing with my receding hair lined husband?", my actual response was also classic.

"I didn't knock this man out nor do I know the hoodlum vagrants that did. I run a website and it would be socially irresponsible of me to not chronicle everything that happens in my city. You can't have one-sided news. Don't judge me."

Ether blogger!!! That's how you handle those situations.

Next up I walk to the car with DEZO and Shanga, laughing at the pics. While driving around the parking garage to the exit gate I see the guys who (I think) knocked out drunk bob. I throw the car in park and fling the driver side door open in the middle of the garage so I can exit. DEZO and Shanga are giving me the "what the f**k is going on" look. The kids see me approaching and think I'm with the dude they just knocked out and ran away from.

Show: "Aiyo, you just knocked dude out?"

Kids: "Nah we don't know what you're talking about dude."

Show: Thats a shame, cause I got pics.

Kids: Oooh, I knew someone snapped something let us see!!

Show: yeah. He's alive.

Meanwhile i hear yelling at the car and look over to see an altercation out of my Car's back window. Yep. Shanga had gotten into a fight in the 3 minutes I left him and DEZO alone with my car running about 7 feet away. What happened, might you ask? He yelled out the window to a girl saying "come here you fine little piece of white trash." Now had he said fine piece of ass, he might've survived, as she looked ho-bag-ish. He didn't, however, say "piece of ass" and subsequently was getting the shit slapped out of him by the time I came back to break it up. Lucky for him, a.) the guys I was talking to didnt like the girl , b.) Shanga's half white so I didnt peg him a racist and c.) he didnt hit her back.

No harm no foul right? We all bounced out of the garage, knowing that this was enough action for one night. Then we woke up (in different houses...no homo) in the morning and went to a Pig Roast Barbecue in Branford. LMAO.

Owwwwwwwwwww. Notorious P.I.G-Rocka.

Live, Love, Pigs (not cops)

Show aka Tucker Max-B. Owwwww.

1 comment:

Carl said...

This shit is hilarious and also retarded. And to clarify, we definitely had a follower in Vietnam for two months, but he moved back to NYC, so we might not have readers there anymore.