When the Cat’s Away

The Men will Play [Part I]

So with the girlfriend out of town this weekend, I had some really big plans.  Mainly, drinking, not cleaning up after myself, and zoning out in front of the TV for hours on end.  Somehow Erica must have found this out before hand and used her feminine wiles to get Fate to intervene.

Friday night was to be the site of a beer pong tournament at the newly minted bachelor pad full of debauchery and bad ideas.  A harsh reality hit home, however, when I learned that I wasnít as cool as I thought.  After being blown off by both the Macho Man and the Sergeon General, only 6 of us remained.  No matter, we that were left standing fully intended on getting bombed off Miller Lite and fierce competition.  Bombed we were getting, when disaster struck.  A fuse blew, knocking out power in the living room, where both the TV and Pong Table were housed.  Springing into action, as Kneeland proclaimed it the ‘Worst Party Ever’, I fixed the problem and the games resumed in a matter of minutes, since the drinking never stopped.  My ego had rebounded from the hurt the Macho Man had put on it, and I was feeling good.

But Erica and Fate would not be put away so easily.  Not an hour later, with Sweeney and Lappy in the middle of a tense game, the power went out once again.  With no extra fuses, I knew that this could be the end of the road.  Instead of panicking, with rumbles of, ‘Definitely the Worst Party Ever coming from the Good King, I found what I was looking for. Candles!  With no other options, it was Candle-light Pong for the rest of the night.  Sure it was a little creepy, but by that point we would have played in the dark if need be, just to keep drinking.

Kneelandís grumblings would not go unpunished.  After the long night wrapped up everyone stumbled out of my apartment to wishes of ‘get home safe’ and ‘donít scare to many chicks on the way home’.  Drunk, and thankful that I didn’t need a ride anywhere, I passed out in bed, thinking, yea, Iíll clean up tomorrow.  The jackhammer drilling into my skull a mere 5 hours later was simply my landlord, telling me someone was on the way to replace my fuse.  Trying not to think, even that was loud; I shuffled around the apartment soaking in the stench of stale beer.  Nobody came, so it was off to pickup where even the basketball felt like yelling at me.

Got a call from Kneeland, and although it was unexpected I wasn’t all that surprised.  What was surprising was his story. Apparently on the way home, somebody got into a fight, with gravity, and lost.  A chipped tooth, a severe split of both the chin and lip were payment for his mocking my soiree.  As soon as I found out he was ok, and stopped feeling bad (about half a secondís worth) I couldnít stop laughing.  That should teach him!

Still no power to the TV upon returning home from pickup, but Serge had called.  Feeling as a lover scorned, I ignored him right back and blew him off for any Saturday night plans.  Instead it was the Upper Crust and a number of beers left over from the night before.  No I was not drinking by myself, the little man in my head was as well.  Night over, place, still messy, only hours before Erica’s return and I was passed out in bed.

Sunday morning, still no TV, but a much tinier hangover.  Pickup was even worse than the day before, with the Hitman abusing me on both ends of the floor.  As if my frustration couldnít mount any further, I realized Erica was back to give me a ride home.  I had realized that my weekend of solitude, my weekend vacation, was over in the blink of an eye.  I didnít get to ‘accomplish; nearly all I had in mind and was severely let down.  But I vowed, then and there, that this coming weekend, I would not be denied.