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I awoke this morning, slowly, to the sound of a fan going 'round and 'round. Moments later, Dave staggers into my bedroom and loudly proclaims that he'd like to kill himself. What? Huh? Oh yeah, another night out and none of us got ass. What is this, February? Then the night came back to me, seeing how we only went to bed a few hours ago anyways. You see, in the summer time, we don't sleep, we just take short naps between working and drinking. I sit up in bed and survey the wreckage: my cousin Brion, groggy and on my floor, my roommate Collin smoking on the back porch, our friend Sarah, comatose on the pullout couch.
There was the Beachcomber in Wellfleet last night. I showed up around midnight, as I had to bartend at the Fairway, and I was not in a good mood. I had to toss my first asswipe customer of the summer, and I was primed to party after dumping a Long Island Ice Tea down my throat for my shift drink. I had been feeding my cousin Brion beer at the bar, but lost him while I was cleaning up. I found him
unconscious in the bed of my truck. I roused him and we hit the road.
How do I describe the scene that awaited me at the Beachcomber? Well, first of all, I was receiving texts from Dave all night, updating me on the drinking status of the evening. Since he spelled the word CAMERA as "canera" in his last text, I knew I was in for a night. I'll take a time out here, and allow Dave to explain the hours before I met up with them:
DAVE- First things first, im a landscaper so i cant spell. Me and Drew went shot for shot with tequila, for those of you who know me i can out drink anyone, this is why im single. As we partook in this drink off i say to Drew THE B.O. D. IS COMING OUT TONIGHT. For those of you who know Drew the B.O.D. stands for: Blackout Drew, and its awesome. The car ride from brewster to wellfleet was something out of high school, old school rap, a handle of tequila, and four knuckleheads from the class of 98. I blacked out from the drivein to the 'comber, once again this is why
im single. Me and Drew stumple into the bar, the tequlia at this point has taken over, i cant feel my legs and Drew tried to make out with me, no lie. I proceed to talk to two sisters from the other side of the sagamore. justins turn. i need a drink and its ten in the morning so when in rome?
Justin- Did Dave just make a word? STUMPLE????? Anyways, I arrive around this point to find Dave talking to these two girls, saying "Have you girls met Justin?" (this is Dave's most creative pick up line.) The boyfriend (or brother or stalker, whatever) of the girls quickly comes over. It takes moments for 2 things to happen. First, Dave manages to find out he's a New York Yankees fan. This leads to hostility and name calling. Naturally, I agree with this line of conversation, especially when that dude tries to form a comeback around spirited hockey-talk. What? Are you serious? Dave iced him with a one-liner. The second thing happens at that moment. Dave spills his entire drink on one of the sisters. They left. It wasn't the first time and won't be the last. Dave just informed
me, upon hearing this last line, that he is his own cockblock.
As drinking nights go, this one was fun, but like the thousands that came before it. Last call came and went and we were all milling about in the parking lot. At this point, our buddy Brady comes out wondering where Drew went. That was a good question... Well, aparently the B.O.D. skipped out on a $144 bar tab, leaving it to poor Brady. There was a beach party just outside, so we walked to the edge of the dune and contemplated the steep descent. Let me just say that the Beachcomber should install a gondala. Or provide helmets. Booze + darkness+ steep sand= disaster. People were literally falling and rolling down the incline. Among them, Brion turns his ankle and goes ass-over-teakettle down the sand. He could not go on, so we left him with promises of returning with a keg-cup. Dave and I reach the buried keg, start in on our drinks and lose track of time (which means we forgot to bring Brion beer). All and all, a fairly mellow night. Oh yeah, some broad "motorboated" Sarah's enormous rack. Since this was just a Tuesday
and the Third of July, I expect tonight to be far, far worse.
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Team Handsome s Knuckleheads
Justin and Dave
Just to set the record straight, I guess Brady paid with Drew's card. This is the one drawback of this kind of blog; the info is pieced together after-the-fact and with faulty, booze memory