After taking two months off from partying, the 4th seemed like a perfect time to pick up the slack. Ok, I didn't take 2 months off, I've just been so busy partying it hasn't been possible to make posts of any kind.
G-man came up on Wednesday night and immediately began shredding a case of Caguama. About 2 hours later a hookah entered the mix and the G-man became paralyzed on the couch. The next night was nearly the same, but included a keg of Dos Equis and ended with the remaining "Cuags" and a hookah. A puke sesh would soon follow off the porch.
Friday was the 4th, and it was a miracle the booze even stayed down. Drinking was so difficult, even by 9pm, that we missed the first 10 minutes of the fireworks show. The Yardie was soon calling, where we stayed for the remainder of the night. 3 yards of beer later our server Sophia was listening to the drunk bs that was spewing out of our mouths. Why not tell her to break up with her boyfriend? I think she made her mind up after I asked her a 3rd time where she lived. Idiot.
G-Man, blacked and all, prepared a nasty dish of rice and beans, smothered in so much hot sauce that my butt is still hurting. 2 full carrots and a bowl of rice/beans was enough to put us both in serious coma's, leaving G-man face down and myself in serious pain.
The next morning G-man admitted and found proof of losing the bowl off our balcony somewhere around 330am. That makes two puke sesh's in 3 nights. Not bad.
The remainder of the weekend was consuming as many burritos as possible without getting sick. Needless to say, this summer is proving to be everything I've expected from San Diego and more.
Next big party: the return of Jonesy and a visit from the female version of Tucker Max.
