Back to the work week after this interlude: My Weekend

Another weekend for the books. Another couple moments to add to the blog.

On Saturday night I took the liberty of driving a couple of friends around from party to party. By the time we reach the bar in Fremont Heezy is well on his way to absolute obliteration. Because of Heezy's cousin Dan's birthday everyone was buying drinks for his cousin. But Irei bought them both a shot and a beer for the occasion. Heezy was not having it. I handed him the beer then I handed him the Hawaiian's shot of choice, whiskey. He hands me back the shot and says, 'I can't take this. Is this whiskey? You know I can't take this, Jeege. Here you take it!'

Me--- 'No, absolutely not. I'm not taking this shot. I'm driving.'

Heezy --- 'Please Jeege! C'mon!

Me --- 'No, **** that.'

Heezy --- 'Ok. Just take half of it.'

Jeege --- 'Alright. Fine. But hand me your beer so I can chase it.'

Heezy --- 'Thanks Jeege. You're the best!'

I took the beer and turned my head to take the shot. Instead of taking the shot I turned Heezy's beer into a boilermaker.

I handed him back the shot but kept the beer.

Now, Dan refused to take his shot. Heezy turned back to me for help. So, I repeated the process and turned Heezy's beer into a full blown Boilermaker. I put on my fake shot face and handed the shot back to Dan. They both thanked me profusely and slipped the whiskey down their throats. And Heezy took his beer back. Hah! Take that!

30 minutes later I can't find Heezy. I'm asking everyone where he went.
I scour the bathroom and I can't find him. I come back to the group. And there he is leaning weakly against a railing next to a plant looking like he is ready to puke. I get him out of there and into the car as fast as possible. On the way back we had to stop once. But, alas, no luck. I get him back to his house. Before I can find a place to park he swings the car door open and runs away to puke. I park the car as fast as I can and book it back to make sure he doesn't wander into the street. As I approach the front door I see Heezy through the window. He is bent over and holding himself up by the door knob. He didn't make it two steps into the house before the Boilermaker ruined his hardwood and his night. Right below him is squid-looking vomit strewn across the hardwood floor. Bottom line: I'm not drinking and driving because you aren't man enough to take a whiskey shot! Sorry Heez but I'm not gonna end up like this guy next to my Ford Focus:



I did feel a little responsible. So, I grabbed a couple towels from around the house and cleaned up the mess before anyone got home.

P.S. At the same time as this, a friend of ours was getting arrested at Jack in the Box for punching in a window of a car. Enough said.