DNC Worldwide

Last night’s UFC Party/Rockstar Return/E’s Birthday Celebration/Usual Saturday with the boys was harder to handle than even usual! Woke up on Eddie’s lazyboy this morning. Took a multivitamin and went home. Jordan puked on the way home. I managed to make it back to sugarland in one piece, but promptly went back to sleep until about an hour ago. Can’t even drink for the superbowl now. And Crazy Dave… well he called me at around three with questions like “what happened last night?“… Let’s see… all I remember is that he and Forrest left 410 in the Range Rover to go searching for Forrest’s car, which might have been left at Al’s, on the way to Katy.

The club was interesting to say the least. Forrest was drunk dancing again, this time on the stage. That led to a trip of sin to the bathroom for him and some lucky beast of a woman. Jordan was hitting on every girl in sight (its a numbers game right?), but in retrospect he wasn’t even hitting on them, but rather just going up to them, yelling the brazlian (“heyyyyyyyyyy”), and subsequently turning around and shaking his ass. In the meantime, Dave Phillips was alternating between trying to take us down and rambling to the big 300 pound bouncer, who affectionately refers to our group as “the grapplers.” And as for birthday boy E, well, he was drunkenly stumbling around with Christie. We seem to be regulars at 410 now, except last night we all danced more than usual, drunker than usual. No house of pies on the way home this time. Hell, we didn’t even stay awake to make it to the freeway in Jess’ previa. And the best part of the whole night… Kelly the cutie of a bartender only charged me $28. And I had 7 or so bullblasters, 3 or 4 jack/cokes, and a few beers. She loves me.

As far as how it all started, well, I started off with crawfish at SB Richmond with the November class and Abdul. Continued on to Eddie’s for some blackalicious, green monster, and screwdrivers before going to the fights with the team at Al’s. That was where the crazy drinking all started. Chris, the boxer, ordered and ordered, and ordered, until he was politely escorted out. Everybody and their mom, from George Leiva to Travis and Jose, were sat the bar watching the UFC. I myself sat with Joe and his girl and got smashed on jack and cokes. We left after the final bell of the Lidell fight. Go to beginning of blog for rest of story.

This entry was posted on July 17, 2008 at 10:46 am and is filed under Party Time. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.