my sober night.

so the plan was, this weekend, i would leave my pot in london, come home where i did not know any drug dealers, and work on papers all weekend. thus impressing my parents with my diligence and also getting some friggen work done.

can anybody who knows me guess what actually happened?

anybody?

i bet that everyone can guess exactly what fucking happened.

so i have a cottage in a place called rondeau park, it's quite nice yada yada on lake erie, and its in the middle of nowhere. fucking nowhere. so i was there, and i wrote a whole huge bitch of a paper on communications and the construction of community for mit 202. and then i realized that there was no damn way i was going to start another paper right away. and it was like 9:00, and i really wanted to go out. thus i took the first of many sobriety missteps in my evening of sobriety.

sobriety misstep one: so i take two hits of shitty E that i had in my bag from last weekend. i mean they're shitty. i'm talking, so shitty that they might not actually have been a sobriety misstep, cos all i felt was really tense, with the vague urge to chew on something. but they cost me like 5 bucks, so whatever. why not pollute your body with pills of ambiguous content and origin. go for it, ali!

and then i hop in the car and drive into the nearest town. blenheim. haha. anyone who knows the region (likely nobody in the ol' hypothetical audience) knows that this place is dirt. and the bar is, well... über-dirt. the cadillac lounge. oh, shit.

and thus there is me. relatively clean-cut dorky youth with pants hanging off his ass. and two friends that have a penchant for cardigan sweaters. and one friend's girlfriend from his respective uni who i think spent the entire night dumbfounded by the redneck clientele. now some people would say that i'm a long fucking way from clean-cut, but note i said relatively. like, people in this bar were covered in paint. and had mullets. these are mullets and paint on people for whom irony meant they'd have to worry about rust. this is a bar in which there were approximately 10 patrons, and approximately 13 to 17 teeth. total.

and here's me, vaguely tense and not-quite-e'd up off my hits of fucking, drano, heroin, and crushed up glass or whatever they really were. and you can see how i would take...

sobriety misstep two: i bought a beer. now, i ordered a pint of canadian, which was piss, and apparently the only thing they had on tap. one friend who accompanied me informed me that you should never get the draft beer at this bar. apparently someone who worked there had informed him that the taps sometimes say different things, but it's always just a really dirty old keg of OV. oh well. i get the beer and drink it, and then i proceed to make sobriety missteps number three and four. guess what they were? yeah. they were the same damn OV. we decide that OV stands for "old vagina," cos that's what the beers taste like. somehow though, i can't get enough.

and by that point i'm a little woozy, and the entire fucking population of the town seems to pour into the bar. suddenly the dirty-old-people bar gets taken over by slightly-dirty young people. they're all pretty alright though, i knew most of them in one way or another from my years of cottaging around here. and little would you have guessed, but a buddy of mine from home who i buy weed from in london shows up! well fuck, i didn't see that coming.

cos see the way i formulated my sober weekend wasn't that i actually said i wouldn't party, just that i would limit my partying to what i could acquire from my home area. i didn't expect that would be a lot. but, needless to say, buddy showed up and i found a loophole. and then,

sobriety misstep number five: i buy a bag of weed from buddy!

sobriety misstep number six: i go and session the fuck out of it. haha. ooooops. but it's all okay, because i need to end this post and go commit sobriety misstep numbers... probably alot more when i go out tonight, as well.

shit. hahaha.

these things happen!