In contrast to Big Tasty's hard-earned pathetic aura on the weekend, I had my own nice little Saturday. I got up early, did a few chores around the house, played with the lad and then met my friend Brian at the park and ride at 10:30 and headed off to Madison. We met Mike and Mary Ann at Dotty Dumpling's for lunch and a few beers. Went to the Regent St. Retreat to have a quick beer with my homey Kreecher. Then, on to Camp Randall to watch the Badgers defeat the Goophers for the Axe in shocking fashion. A couple of cocktails and a nice meal at Paisan's and we're back on the road home.
I get home about 10:30, and my wife and my parents are watching a movie. I lay down to watch the end of it, and suddenly I'm shivering and feeling pretty shittay. I mumble something about not feeling good and stumble up to bed. Fast forward to 1 o'clock in the morning. I can feel a frantic knocking at my back door so I run to the toilet. No sooner do I sit down and ass-piss a gallon of bad coffee than I realize I am about to blow chunks. (No, Chunks is not the name of a dog.) So I do an all-star first baseman stretch to scoop up the wastebasket and then I unload a 9" Paisan's pizza, well chewed and poorly digested, into the bucket.
Now, I'm thoroughly dazed and dizzy. I decide there is no way I'm cleaning this wastebasket. It was half full of tissues and toilet paper roll tubes before I doused it in vomitus italiana. It's not like it could just be dumped in the toilet and washed. No, this would require some real effort. Fuck it, we'll get a new one. I wrap the wastebasket in several plastic grocery bags and then a garbage bag. It's still in the garage. Trash day Friday can't come soon enough.
Sunday morning, of course, I'm expecting about 15 guests for the big Bears-Packers party. I leave it up to my wife and my mom - we can either call everyone and cancel or you guys are stuck doing everything. They chose to do everything. So, I sat up in my room all day, trying to sleep and occasionally pissing out of my ass, while my entire family was downstairs drinking my beer, eating the food I prepared and celebrating a big Packer stomping of the Bears.
Long story cut short, I made it back to work yesterday and was finally able to eat an actual meal last night.
So, there you have it. Old guys have vomit-filled weekends, too.
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1 comment:
Tk,
The food was great man, especially liked the mustard vinagerette for the pulled pork. Sucked that you were sick all day. However I dont think you would have felt much better had you been down stairs watching that football game.
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