Living in the Scoot Utopia

Last night was my best friend's 35th birthday. After my bowling team gave his bowling team a 3-1 beating (during which we all, but he especially, consumed a great many beers), the gang went over to Harry's Country Club, our usual post-bowling haunt.

Now, I had promised to pick up his tab as a birthday gesture but I never got the chance because so many people kept buying him shots. Ten in all. Well, technically eleven, but we'll get to that in a minute.

Before the shots began, Ken said "My goal for tonight is to get so drunk that I throw up."

After the 10th shot, Ken said "My goal for tonight is to not throw up."

He failed in that goal, spending more than half an hour in the men's room at Harry's.

Stop reading now if you are easily offended.

Classic lines from the evening:

• Ken (after downing a Prairie Fire): "Damn, that shot tasted like going down on a woman with a yeast infection."
  
• Ken (after one of the women at our table challenged him with 'How do you know my breasts are real?'): "Of course they're real, they're too small to be fake."
  
• Ken (repeatedly in the Harry's men's room, into a manhole on Missouri Avenue, and into a trash can at my place): "BLLLHAAAAAGHGAHAGHAGHAGHHHHHH"
  
• Some worthless bum who wandered into Harry's, interrupting Ken mid-yack in his stall in the men's room: "Hey buddy, can you spare a few bucks to buy me a drink."
  
• Nik Domann, calling my cell from inside Harry's as he watched me standing in the middle of the street helping Ken as he got sick again: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
  

Don't worry, Ken didn't drive last night. He crashed at my place and made it in to work by 8:00 this morning.

Happy birthday!

PS - What about that 11th shot?

As 11:09pm neared (the actual offical time of Ken's birthday), I stopped by the bar and ordered a pair of shots for Ken and me. For me I requested a Starry Night. For Ken, who I already knew needed to be cut off, I requested them to make up something non-alcoholic that looked like a Starry Night, as a joke.

Unfortunately by the time I got it, Ken had just begun his Porcelain Odyssey and the thought of tricking him like that seemed too cruel. When Ken finally returned, though, pressure from everyone else caused me to present him with his "shot". He was mortified. Even though I finally confessed it wasn't real, he wouldn't drink it. What was by them warm Coke mixed with sugar water probably would have only made matters worse. :)