Ok. I get it. My blog sucks. I'm sorry I got kinda busy LIVING REAL LIFE to post shit on here. Ha.
So much to talk about. Let's start with the ridiculous.
Marco got married a couple of weekends ago. How wild is that! My nigga is all grownsed up. Tear. I love Whitney, though, so it's all gravy. The wedding was REAL tight. But of course... there's a story. Like to hear it, here it go:
So Marco wanted the groomsmen to meet at Dave and Buster's at noon just to hang out for a bit before we had to meet at the place to take pictures and whatnot. Which was a-ok with me. I had gone out the night before and woke up a little tipsy still so I wanted to see how far I could keep this going. So I got there around noon thirty and everyone is drinking water and tea.... uh uh. Not this fool. I had to get a beer. Ordered a Bud Light and felt a little awkward, but I figured it would go away after the first one. Drank up there and headed toward the place to get there by 3pm. Pictures aren't until 5pm so we got about 2 hours to kill. So what do we do? What anyone in that position would do - drank beer and played poker until it was time for pics. Which was pushed back, after awhile, until 6pm. Sweet. Keep drinking.
Time for pictures and we're out of beer. Oh but wait... what's this? A bottle of wine? Ok! So we crack it open and drink 'er up. Take pictures with big smiles and line up for the wedding... as Zo and I were still hitting up the bottle. As we march down the aisle, I realize that I am not EXACTLY sober, but oh not drunk yet. At all. Just having fun. I realize this because as I'm walking down the aisle, I slap Anthony on the back and stick my finger in Cindy's ear.
After the ceremony, Zo and I find the bottle and finish it up. Hey, the line was long. What do you want from us. The reception was crowded but so much fun. Haven't hung out with some of these folks in a LONG time so of course we're all tripping out and having a grand ol' time. By the end of the wedding, I start feeling a little happy.... so I want to go to Mac's, of course. Why not? Head to Mac's after the wedding and meet some folks there.
Now, let's stop here for a minute. If you know me, you know that I NEVER get too drunk to drive my ass home. That's just not something I do. I always stop soon enough before leaving time to sober up enough to drive. That being said....
I'm sitting with Cindy and Phillip and keep taking shots. As there is yet another sitting in front of me, I turn to them and say, "Alright... if I take this shot, you guys are driving me home." And after trying to pawn me off on someone else (Thanks, "friends". Pft) they drive me home. So I sit shotgun and start talking shit - just because that's what I do. We get to the apartment and I walk inside. This is when I realize where I fucked up....
Now let's stop here and explain again. If you DO know me, you know when I've been drinking, I NEED my phone with me at all times. I am a drunk texter by definition. I think I'm in the dictionary.
After COMPLETELY tearing my apartment up, I realize that I left my phone in the cupholder of the car. Oops. So I sit down and think....
"Alright, Roger. You left your phone in the car. Let's just get your work phone.... oh wait.... it's in your jacket pocket in your car... which is at Mac's...."
So, in my drunken thinking process, I decide to do what any sane-drunk guy would do. I am going to walk to Mac's Tavern to get my damn phone. I consciously decide to put on wind pants and my running shoes - it's a long hike - and take off out of my apartment.
I make it out of my apartment complex parking lot and KNOW this isn't a good idea. But I can't stop walking! So I just keep going. I make it down the street further and look at my shadow walking in front of... who is not exactly walking straight. I think I even yelled at it at some point to straighten up. I try to walk with the line of sidewalk but it's not going so well. So, again, I do what any sane-drunk person would do. I start running. I look better running than not walking straight.
And again... I realize this is a bad idea. So I stop. And now.... man.... I'm tired. I think about sitting down, but realize how bad of an idea that is. I get to I-30 and realize that the bridge across the freeway doesn't really have a spot to walk. So I did what any sane-drunk man would do and started running across the bridge. NOT realizing how fucking long that bridge was. But I kept trucking. Finally made it across and, drenched in sweat, really wanted to stop. But now, I'm so close. So I keep going.
By the time I get to Mac's, I find my phone, realize how ridiculously sober I am, get in my car, and drive home.
Ironically, I make two texts: one to B and the other to Cindy to tell her what I had done and to get my damn phone. Went home and went to bed. Eh. What can ya do....
Birthday party was last weekend. And was an ABSOLUTE success. Didn't hit the mark I was trying to hit, by I still broke the record and I am a-ok with that. Still went home alone, but didn't get there until 5:30am.... eh. What can ya do....
So I was running yesterday for the first time in awhile. And here, at the complex in Denver, it gets pretty busy in the gym. And I hate people in there when I'm trying to run because I get all self-conscious and I feel rushed when people are waiting for the treadmill. Get off me, nigga. So I'm running along and I see this dude walk in... sort of. He had one of those walking "impediments". You know. With the one big shoe? And all that flashed in my head was, "Well, I ain't gotta worry about this nigga...."
Of course, I just shook my head, got off the treadmill, and walked to my apt with my head down. I'm going to hell.
Work is kicking my ass. But that's all I have to say about that. Partly because the boss man reads my blog.
On that note, I'll be home this weekend for my dad's and B's birthday. So if you wanna hang, holla at me. I promise I won't leave my phone in the cupholder.
Until next time....