Post BBQ Party Report
Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,
The party was all well and good. It turned out to be a low key affair, but, it was actually a fun event. It was one of the rare events when the core group was able to all attend. Well at least the majority that is.
C-Nut: went on a road trip with his BCIT film classmates; a mix of vacation during Victoria Day long weekend and an attempt to film/document their exploits
Rich & Nicola: they had their own alky-fest going on; something about a beach & karaoke?
Dave: I think he was at home with Michelle placing his entire comic collection in to baggies along with cardboard backing
However it was just nice to see some faces that have been absent due us getting older and what not.
- Graham & Alison: both were actually in town, not working, and not hanging with coworkers
- Wade & Brandi: both weren't working; a miracle unto itself
- Monique: often hanging in her separate social circles, be it "ChiPo" (*shudder*) or her peeps in da hood; much like above, an appearance is a miracle
So there we were hanging out on the patio of McKinley Manor. BBQ. Beer. Chips. Various dips. J-E-L-L-O with a bang. Assorted liquors. Out in the sun. Under a star-less sky due to light pollution. We drank. Ate. Talked. All was good in the world. At least for that brief period, celebrating the day Mr. McKinley eternally regrets as the day "The Weird One" (Jason) came to the world.
As stated in the open invite, Jason placed a bounty upon his head. That bounty being that he was determined to keep drinking till he puked. The day progressed. So did his drunkenness. I believe the group was in consensus in determining the "ESPN Turning Point" to be when Jay simultaneously double fisted a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of exceptionally strong beer.
**Warning Graphic Depictions**
Some time after continuous double fisting both bottles at the same time, a rumble was heard. He knew it. Hell, we all knew it was a coming, and subsequently ran for safety. Next site we see is Jay's face. His cheeks bulging like Dizzie Gilespie's as he blows in to his trumpet. Except instead of air, Jay's mouth was filled with an unholy concoction of solid matter and acrid liquid. The piece de resistance being the line of dense drool seeping from his lips and seeking solid ground.
Amidst this lovely image, an ever reddening complexion, straining crack eyes, and his body's urgency to reject whatever cess pool lay inside, Jay managed return the witches brew from whence it came.
I'm not sure was worse:
- the sheer density of that line of spit?
- his swallowing of the vomit?
or
- the fact that Jay had to chew in order get that stuff in to a manageable size, so as to do the actual swallowing?
**Graphic Depictions Over**
Hence, the bounty upon his head still unfulfilled. But there would be more time for that to come through. In the mean time many other tidbits would manifest. For one, shirts. Special shirts were made by three of the DSBHers for their adjoining significant others. Each shirt consisted of a special message on the front, while on the back lay their team number. The messages were as follows:
Jo(sephine & not Krack): "Bri Fucking Owns Me."
Steph: "Matty's Fatties"
Mildred: "I **heart emoticon** J"
Regarding Mildred's shirt. She had an added twist. Whereas the others only had the number of beaus on their backs, Mildred had the word "OWNED" above her beau's (Jay) number. Awww...
These same "soccer wives" got really plastered over the course of the evening. Ranking them in order from hardcore to practically straight edge:
1. Steph: Matty proclaimed that this is the most that he's ever seen her drink ever; shots of straight gin, rum, whiskey, and beer? hello!
2. Jo: drunker than she usually gets; she becomes even more bubbly (but in a good way); also, she becomes even more truthful as well
3. Mildred: drunk yes; but, she gets drunk easily; hence didn't go as hardcore as those mentioned above
What else happened? Jay started running around the house like an A.D.D. kid on stimulants. During said spree, he supposedly locked himself in his bro's room, clocked Matty, and tripped which resulted in clocking himself on a table top surface. Despite his penchant for fucking up his body royally, we some how think he'll outlive us all for some reason. Something along the lines that his body refuses to die.
The night of excess was finally taking its toll on Jay. He battled his body's natural instincts by subscribing a zen state. A myriad of poses, controlled breathing, and shouting at us to NOT MOVE, so as to not distract his concentration. To help aid his effort, I oh so gently waved a piece of hamburger meat in front of his nose. This only caused him to ask me to stop whislt trying to hit me. Funny, he doesn't recall this bit. Apparently, the sheer effect of Wade's movement from across the patio made him lose it.
**Warning Graphic Depictions**
So Jay puked. And how!!! He must have filled approximately 3-4 individual bowls and casserole dishes with his vomit. The site was akin to "The Exorcist". While it looked like pea soup, we sure as hell knew it to be the real thing.
It was a site to behold. Not only visually, but, audio-wise also. Jay pukes into the first bowl. The substance is nearing the top. We all believe the horror to be almost over. However, an ungodly growl emanates from his diaphragm and round two is on. A hasty switch in puke receptacle is made. Each subsequent growl signaled another round of vomit. He was like a marathon puker. A constant stream of puke spewing forth. Mmm...nummy. :)
**Graphic Depictions Over**
The storm came and went. The aftermath, a shell of what was formerly Jason McKinley nearing a comatose state.
The party was more or less over. Wade won the bounty and the prize of "Yay, I made Jay puke. Woot woot!" Next stage was clean up, and the whole let's make sure Jay doesn't pull a "Hendrix/Bon Scott".
So we cleared the patio. All the non-patio furniture was brought inside along with cushions and blankets. Next we cleared the table. Garbage went in the trash bag. Recyclables were organized and segregated. Leftovers and condiments were put away. All dishes were placed in the sink. All remnants of "pea soup" were disposed of.
With that done, our attention turned to Jay. We transported him to the TV room couch. This allowed him to sleep on his side. We also wrapped him in several blankets and placed two vomit receptacles by his head. Chew and I volunteered for death watch. Mildred stayed to comfort him till he passed out. As it turned out, Chew watched over him while I lurked in the basement. Chew being the first line of defense. I being the equivalent of a fire extinguisher, break open in case of emergency.
Needless to say, the sorry sod lived . . . yet again.
Too bad he had to play soccer in a few hours.
Muwahahaha . . .
-----
Later Days,
End Transmission.
The party was all well and good. It turned out to be a low key affair, but, it was actually a fun event. It was one of the rare events when the core group was able to all attend. Well at least the majority that is.
C-Nut: went on a road trip with his BCIT film classmates; a mix of vacation during Victoria Day long weekend and an attempt to film/document their exploits
Rich & Nicola: they had their own alky-fest going on; something about a beach & karaoke?
Dave: I think he was at home with Michelle placing his entire comic collection in to baggies along with cardboard backing
However it was just nice to see some faces that have been absent due us getting older and what not.
- Graham & Alison: both were actually in town, not working, and not hanging with coworkers
- Wade & Brandi: both weren't working; a miracle unto itself
- Monique: often hanging in her separate social circles, be it "ChiPo" (*shudder*) or her peeps in da hood; much like above, an appearance is a miracle
So there we were hanging out on the patio of McKinley Manor. BBQ. Beer. Chips. Various dips. J-E-L-L-O with a bang. Assorted liquors. Out in the sun. Under a star-less sky due to light pollution. We drank. Ate. Talked. All was good in the world. At least for that brief period, celebrating the day Mr. McKinley eternally regrets as the day "The Weird One" (Jason) came to the world.
As stated in the open invite, Jason placed a bounty upon his head. That bounty being that he was determined to keep drinking till he puked. The day progressed. So did his drunkenness. I believe the group was in consensus in determining the "ESPN Turning Point" to be when Jay simultaneously double fisted a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of exceptionally strong beer.
**Warning Graphic Depictions**
Some time after continuous double fisting both bottles at the same time, a rumble was heard. He knew it. Hell, we all knew it was a coming, and subsequently ran for safety. Next site we see is Jay's face. His cheeks bulging like Dizzie Gilespie's as he blows in to his trumpet. Except instead of air, Jay's mouth was filled with an unholy concoction of solid matter and acrid liquid. The piece de resistance being the line of dense drool seeping from his lips and seeking solid ground.
Amidst this lovely image, an ever reddening complexion, straining crack eyes, and his body's urgency to reject whatever cess pool lay inside, Jay managed return the witches brew from whence it came.
I'm not sure was worse:
- the sheer density of that line of spit?
- his swallowing of the vomit?
or
- the fact that Jay had to chew in order get that stuff in to a manageable size, so as to do the actual swallowing?
**Graphic Depictions Over**
Hence, the bounty upon his head still unfulfilled. But there would be more time for that to come through. In the mean time many other tidbits would manifest. For one, shirts. Special shirts were made by three of the DSBHers for their adjoining significant others. Each shirt consisted of a special message on the front, while on the back lay their team number. The messages were as follows:
Jo(sephine & not Krack): "Bri Fucking Owns Me."
Steph: "Matty's Fatties"
Mildred: "I **heart emoticon** J"
Regarding Mildred's shirt. She had an added twist. Whereas the others only had the number of beaus on their backs, Mildred had the word "OWNED" above her beau's (Jay) number. Awww...
These same "soccer wives" got really plastered over the course of the evening. Ranking them in order from hardcore to practically straight edge:
1. Steph: Matty proclaimed that this is the most that he's ever seen her drink ever; shots of straight gin, rum, whiskey, and beer? hello!
2. Jo: drunker than she usually gets; she becomes even more bubbly (but in a good way); also, she becomes even more truthful as well
3. Mildred: drunk yes; but, she gets drunk easily; hence didn't go as hardcore as those mentioned above
What else happened? Jay started running around the house like an A.D.D. kid on stimulants. During said spree, he supposedly locked himself in his bro's room, clocked Matty, and tripped which resulted in clocking himself on a table top surface. Despite his penchant for fucking up his body royally, we some how think he'll outlive us all for some reason. Something along the lines that his body refuses to die.
The night of excess was finally taking its toll on Jay. He battled his body's natural instincts by subscribing a zen state. A myriad of poses, controlled breathing, and shouting at us to NOT MOVE, so as to not distract his concentration. To help aid his effort, I oh so gently waved a piece of hamburger meat in front of his nose. This only caused him to ask me to stop whislt trying to hit me. Funny, he doesn't recall this bit. Apparently, the sheer effect of Wade's movement from across the patio made him lose it.
**Warning Graphic Depictions**
So Jay puked. And how!!! He must have filled approximately 3-4 individual bowls and casserole dishes with his vomit. The site was akin to "The Exorcist". While it looked like pea soup, we sure as hell knew it to be the real thing.
It was a site to behold. Not only visually, but, audio-wise also. Jay pukes into the first bowl. The substance is nearing the top. We all believe the horror to be almost over. However, an ungodly growl emanates from his diaphragm and round two is on. A hasty switch in puke receptacle is made. Each subsequent growl signaled another round of vomit. He was like a marathon puker. A constant stream of puke spewing forth. Mmm...nummy. :)
**Graphic Depictions Over**
The storm came and went. The aftermath, a shell of what was formerly Jason McKinley nearing a comatose state.
The party was more or less over. Wade won the bounty and the prize of "Yay, I made Jay puke. Woot woot!" Next stage was clean up, and the whole let's make sure Jay doesn't pull a "Hendrix/Bon Scott".
So we cleared the patio. All the non-patio furniture was brought inside along with cushions and blankets. Next we cleared the table. Garbage went in the trash bag. Recyclables were organized and segregated. Leftovers and condiments were put away. All dishes were placed in the sink. All remnants of "pea soup" were disposed of.
With that done, our attention turned to Jay. We transported him to the TV room couch. This allowed him to sleep on his side. We also wrapped him in several blankets and placed two vomit receptacles by his head. Chew and I volunteered for death watch. Mildred stayed to comfort him till he passed out. As it turned out, Chew watched over him while I lurked in the basement. Chew being the first line of defense. I being the equivalent of a fire extinguisher, break open in case of emergency.
Needless to say, the sorry sod lived . . . yet again.
Too bad he had to play soccer in a few hours.
Muwahahaha . . .
-----
Later Days,
End Transmission.
posted by Shockah Karl at 3:07 a.m.
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