A Lot of Sweat

D-roo (the Renter’s friend from Toronto) was supposed to arrive on Thursday but didn’t end up getting in till early on Friday. The last time he visited his flight was delayed or canceled and he ended up getting a free ticket. This time I guess the flight crew didn’t show up (what?) and they gave him another free ticket and hotel room (at which he watched both Busty Blonds 6 and Brazilian Beach Babes 11 in the same night – quite impressive).

D-roo arrived before noon on Friday. Bare with me, it was a rough weekend and my memory is a bit fuzzy about some (most) items. I believe Friday we went downtown to eat and hit Duke’s for their $1 beers till 9:00. I think I made it till 9:30. At 9:30 I was a mess, asking D-roo if people from Toronto were stupid (?) and I was pointing at my new Toronto shit that he brought saying “I’m stupid, I’m from Toronto” in the most ridiculously sounding retarded voice that might have just been me being so fucking loaded. Then someone had the great idea of hitting the casino (bad) and getting more money after we were already broke (very bad). I’m doing a wire transfer to my checking account tonight.

Saturday D-roo and I lifted weights in the basement for a while before going out for $.25 chicken wings. D-roo got the hot ones while the Renter and I got the medium ones. I love spicy food. My body does not love spicy food. After eating the wings for five minutes my head started to sweat. Not just sweat, but noticeably sweat, noticeable to the point where the waitress brought over more napkins without me asking for them. But she was a good sport about it and smiled at me saying I did a good job when I had finished the plate. I think she might have even winked at me like she wanted me to go back to the kitchen with her and make savage love while we rolled in the wing sauce but I might be mistaken. And besides, have you ever touched your penis/vagina after you’ve been eating spicy food? Not good my friends, not good.

Later we ended up taking D-roo to the mall. He wanted to do some shopping and needed to get my watch fixed so we split up. After walking in the mall and ogling all the beautiful women I realized where I was (the mall) and what I was doing (shopping) which led to an instant case of the sweats. I ran outside and found a restaurant that had a bar. Usually this place is pretty quiet, just people taking a break from shopping to grab a bite to eat. But this was not the case today. I walked in the door and immediately knew that something was up. A group of 20 people hovered around the bar area. One guy yelled at me and gave me a high five. I ended up finding a spot on the other side but I was still annoyed at their loud laughs and general rudeness to the wait staff. But the restaurant had happy hour till 1:00 am (happy hours?) so I was fairly content.

On Sunday it was off to the driving range. I was pleased with my shots considering I hadn’t touched a club in about a year. I even made it out to the edge of the range, 250 yards or so, with my 3-iron. We were all doing pretty well so we decided to get a second bucket of balls. Today it’s Wednesday and my fingers, ribs, and back are still sore to the touch. For a while there I was worried that I might not even be able to strap on a condom and go at it but rest assured dear readers, all’s good.

We all went to the Brewer’s game on Memorial Day. For some reason the Renter got all pissy and left her seat to go walk around for a good five innings. I was in no shape for drinking (1:00 game, too early) and quietly enjoyed the game. My system was just a little out of whack from the previous evening (almost one liter of Southern Comfort) so much so that my leg muscles were a bit unsteady. Combining that with my little fear of heights and sitting 10 rows from the top of Miller Park left me in a bit of a panic. I was fine as we sat in the seats watching the game, but when it came time for the National Anthem (or some other song, I had other things on my mind) and I had to stand was when it was the worst. My legs were wobbling, my forehead was sweating, and I felt like I was going to pass out and go tumbling over. As soon as the song ended I plopped my ass back down and exhaled a sign of relief. Wouldn’t you know it, just my luck, they asked everyone to remain standing for a tribute to the American troops. I’m sorry, I’m all for supporting the troops, but not when it comes at the expense of me tumbling over the people in the rows in front of me and end up leaving the game on a stretcher. Leaving the park wasn’t any better. I glued my head to the ground, grabbed onto the stairway rail, and refused to look up for fear of seeing how high we actually were still. I know, I’m a pussy.

After that we tossed the football around and got all good and sweaty. The Renter even managed to show off in front of D-roo with one of her famous face catches.

Around 9:30 we headed up to the bar. The Renter was on a mission to get D-roo loaded. She had him slamming beers at an outstanding pace. But no, that wasn’t good enough. The Renter first started buying shots of tequila and Southern Comfort, and then she moved on to double shots of each with D-roo doing the tequila. I don’t know how many we went through but the bartender did cut us off on the shots. The bar closed at 2:00 and we stumbled home.

4:00 in the morning I got up to use the bathroom. One small, 260 lb problem: D-roo was sleeping on the bathroom floor. I considered quietly straddling him and more than likely peeing right over him, but decided against it. I had to go downstairs and use the wash sink to do my business (I rinsed it out pretty well). I got back upstairs and asked the Renter if we should cover D-roo up or not. She had no idea that he was in the bathroom and went to go check on him only to see his balls hanging out of his boxers (classic!). We gave him shit about that for the whole next day till his flight left. D-roo, passed out (he claimed sleeping) in the bathroom, and exposed balls.