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I attended my first Major League Baseball game last night. Yankees vs Red Sox. I had too much to drink. Barely remember a thing. I woke up with guacamole all over my pants and only three sloppily captured photos on my phone. I studied them intensely, trying with all my might to piece together even a crude memory of the evening.

I couldn’t come up with much, but I’ve concluded that: I was there. I was there. (I need to repeat that until it seems plausible). I was there.

Yes, I was there and, somewhere in my subconscious, under a dense fog of vodka-infused delusion, there’s practical data from the game recorded and properly cataloged. My Aussie mates might’ve carried me to my seat, or propped me up against an aisle railing, or carefully draped my limp body over a puddle of spilled Coors Light…who knows? The only thing I do know is: I was there, at the game–and, in some handicapacity, I’m sure I enjoyed it.

…that, and the Yankees won. Suck a dick, Boston.

The St. James Sippy Cup

Have you ever spent $11 on an Amaretto Sour…only to find the cup two days later, revealing the truth behind the small, seemingly imperishable ice cube that continued to rattle as you drunkenly tossed the empty cup in your bag? God bless you, New York City.

“This is why I don’t go out to the bars too often” or “This is why I should go out to the bars more often”

Wednesday night, on our way into the bar, Holden, Taem and I were called “the Jonas brothers” by a large girl in a small skirt.

Two hours later…

Taem sold his urine to some fella stressing out over a piss test he had to give for work in the morning, so our drinks were all paid for. The pee sample was collected and delivered in a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon…and with PBR being our beverage of choice for the evening (on account of the elegant blue ribbon), there’s really no telling whether or not one of us accidentally chugged down the wrong liquid at some point. Not that there’s any difference. I just wanted to point out that we may have drank entirely for free.

As we exited the bar, Miss Piggy makes another Jonas Bros comment, this time to an inebriated version of the trio who politely ignored her on the way in—moments into our retaliation, she is verbally assassinated.

Coming to her rescue was her wigger boyfriend, who spit in Taem’s face. Taem returned the gesture by decking him right in his chubby-muff chewin’ lips. Taem knocked the taste of swollen, thoroughly dimpled labia out of his mouth, a motion this white-boy-with-dreams-of-black-pigmentation didn’t take too kindly…triggering him to tackle Taem onto the pavement.

After the two of them rolled around, aggressively hugging in the street for about a minute, they let go of one another and got up. As they brushed themselves off, continuing to size each other up, a cigarette fell from behind the Caucasian hoodrat’s ear…Holden graciously stepped in, picked it up and smoked it right in front of his fat ass. A gentleman, Holden thanked him as he exhaled that first satisfying puff of smoke.

Optimistic for more of a fight, I encourage Taem to snap into a Slim Jim…however, a faithful Christian, Taem’s more of a “say your prayers and take your vitamins” kinda guy…so he removed his shirt, revealing a pair of 24″ pythons, each freshly dipped in baby oil and ready for round two.

With excitement bubbling inside me, I start heckling the wigger about his cell phone that fell and broke during the scuffle. He picked it up, insisting the phone still worked and, unexpectedly, walked away. He retreated quietly, taking his friend and the large girl who initiated this whole mess with him…a relentless tsunami of insults carrying them off into the night.

We couldn’t drive home because we were all still a bit tipsy and the cops were chilling in our parking lot, patiently awaiting a D.W.I. or two…so Taem, still shirtless, approached the officer, told him he was jumped, that his wallet was stolen and gave a brilliant description of the same guy he’d just humiliated in the fight. As soon as the cops cleared out in search of the perpetrator, we ran to our vehicle giggling and drove off all drunk.

Jonas Brothers, for the win!