Russian Party

“They’re going there, we’re going to a Russian party”

Jorge is pretty cool, he wins most arguments we have because he has the capacity to recollect the oddest bits of data and he doesn’t get nervous when I run out of stuff to say and just ask “Wanna fight?”

A couple of weeks ago he said we were going to a Russian party and I was in. I think he needed a side-kick and I was happy to oblige. On the way to the party he informed us (we had taken on a straggler running from Jeep’s ex) that it wasn’t exactly a Russian party just a party that a Russian guy from his gym invited him to and he expects he’ll find either a bunch of very pretty people who don’t always go to the bathroom “for a coke” or very quiet tough guys.

We get to the club on the main and there is no one outside, well there are people outside but they’re not waiting to get in they’re smoking. We however are waiting to get in behind some very fancy velvet ropes. Jorge’s friend is there and the girl with ‘the list’ asks if we are on it…

Jorge’s friend points to the list and says “Here; you write here George plus two.”

It would be easy to stop here because this was the main highlight of the night and my life I still brag about being written on to the list and I was put down as “and two.” As good as this was though, once inside we were set up with a bottle of vodka some mix and a table to ourselves. It’s not like I had a big game the next day only St Lambert in the semi’s who we lost to twice in the season.

“Jorge I can’t drink anymore this has got to be my last.”
“You will drink this one and you will drink the next one after that, then we’ll talk.”

-two drinks later, shots of vodka chased with vodka cranberry-

“OK Jorge the next bottle has to be the last bottle”

I sobered up at half when we were down 13 points.

So fast forward to last night I get stinking drunk and the waitress thought I was hot so after the 2 hour open bar I got loaded and she ‘lost’ my tab. I’m more hung-over than I have been in years and although my sister says it’s because I’m old I feel like a stupid kid again. I was supposed to go out tonight. The plan was Thursday loaded, Friday loaded Saturday the epitome of decorum at Ant’s B-Day (So getting loaded during the day and trying to sober up before her dinner). I tried to chicken out and e-mailed Jorge and got this response:

I appreciate your loyalty. [blogspot edit] knows how much I don't want to be snorting [blogspot edit] off a [blogspot edit]'s [blogspot edit]. Partly because I prefer [blospot edit], but mostly because [blog spot edit] gives you a [blogpsot edit] one, making dirtier but more appropriate activities with the [blogspot edit] that much more difficult.I have a hockey game at 10:30. I should be ready to go out at 12:30. I don't know the details yet but I will let you know. And depending upon my level of scared-[blogspot edit], I may take pity on you. And by "may" I mean "won't". G.

I’m going to a Russian party, but first I’m getting loaded.