Okay, so where was I?
Oh yes, so after the aquarium we were starving, FOR FISH! We picked up Jess and headed for the “really good sushi place” she couldn’t remember the name of. She called it “Shambone.” This reminded me profusely of Michael Jackson, so I kept grabbing my crotch and spinning. Mike did it and got honked at! Sadly, no one liked my spectacle…
I can’t actually remember the name of the place…I think it was Shamisen, but it certainly was not Shambone! This was one of those “cook it yourself” kind of places. Sure, they had sushi, but they also had a bbq at every table so that we could cook stuff as well. Naturally the men all wanted meat, and the ladies refrained. We ordered what we thought was a lot of food for our first round, but we only ended up with about 6 pieces of sushi and a bowl of rice for the five of us, which simply was not enough! I mean, Mike can fit like 3 oranges in his mouth at once, let alone what the rest of the talbe is capable of!
I think where we hit a problem was in cooking the meat. Mike is convinced that he gave everyone (who are meat) food poisoning from not cooking the chicken. I’m going to say that if anyone got sick it was from:
a) watching Mike slurp the tentacles of a squid into his mouth like it was spaghetti
b) watching Steve eat the head of the squid while it secreted a clear fluid (maybe it got excited?!)
c) eating lamb prepared by japanese people (are there lambs in Japan?)
d) letting ME cook some of the meat when I don’t even eat the stuff!
Any number of things…
We gorged until we couldn’t eat another bite. It was one of those “undo the pants” moments, though the waiters only seemed to become interested when Steve took off his pants….strange…no wonder the meal was free…
We decided to head to a pub for some drinking. I had a martini and I was pretty much done drinking for the night because I had devleoped a headache at this point, but everyone else was ready to get sloshed!
After 2 pitchers, Peter left so that he could still drive home. That left Mike, Jess, and Steve to get their drink on. AND THEY DID. I counted how many pitchers came and went, and the tally ended at NINE. NINE pitchers for 3 people?! I can’t imagine how drunk my friends were…
Oh wait, yes I can because I have video footage of it!
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Jokes became funnier, people became more huggy, and good vibes were all around. I headed to the bathroom at one point, only to be blocked by a flamboyant man drunkenly talking to a sea hag. Eventually I got into the ladies room, which was COVERED in water. This was most certainly a “croucher” kind of situation. Good thing I have strong legs from the hospital! Seriously though, how does water get all over the fucking place? You may be thinking it was pee all over the place, and I did too for a moment, but there was no smell at all, so I will just keep happily assuming that water was the liquid of the day. It was then Jess’s turn to potty like it was 1999, and when she got back, she informed us that a luxuriously dressed trannie was cruising the bar. Mike took at stroll to check out the man/lady action, but only found a dude apparently wearing the same outfit.
“Yeah, that dude is with her!”
“They’re dressed the same!”
I don’t know about you, but I thought matching outfits were only for old couples in the 80s…I guess it’s back in style now that the Vancouver trannies have opened the door again…
I noticed Steve getting TANKED and laughing really hard at ANYTHING, so Mike did a little test to see if he was a goner…
To which Steve replied with a 10 minute rant on the movie and how he wanted to be John Candy. (if you haven’t heard of Cool Runnings, it’s a terrible movie that was filmed in Calgary about the Jamacian bobsled team).
I was only feeling crappier by the moment, so I eventually managed to convince Mike to stop ordering beer for the table, not only for my sake, but so he didn’t kill anyone with booze, because MAN that was a lot of beer!
As we got the tab, a pretty gal sat in the booth next to Mike. We saw something white hanging out of her pants…
TOILET PAPER. You thought it was a tampon, didn’t you, you sicko! Anyhow, in some magical feat, this drunk chich managed to give herself a toilet paper tail. I’m talking like at least 6 squares of tail hanging out. Deciding that it was most innapropriate of us to tell her about this after laughing, we tried to make a plan.
After listening to Steve laugh and attempting to stop him from pointing at her, we figured telling the waitress would be the best plan of action.
Suddenly, the girl slightly crouched up to get something from across the table. I caught wind of this and reached over Mike’s shoulders in an attempt to grab the white trail of doom and yank it out of her pants.
I yanked only a square out. The girl turns to see what the fuss is about. I think, ‘holy shit, I’ve got a piece of TP in my hand and she’s going to wonder what the shit I am doing!’ Quickly, I thrust the little square into the scarf laying next to Mike. Great. Now not only does this girl have toilet paper hanging out of her pants, but now I’ve shoved a piece of it into her scarf. So much for kindness! I really have no idea how much TP this chick had lodged in her ass, or WHY, but there was enough to forcefully hold her little white tail in place.
We quickly left after this.
We made it back to Mike’s, only to watch Steve become VERY grumpy at the prospect of not getting to walk Jess home. Drunk Steve thought he could navigate the streets of Van at 2am drunk off his ass and with no cell power left.
Mike suggested I light up to get rid of my headache. We passed a roach around, which I think contained nothing of use, and Steve looked grumpier than EVER. He kept rolling his eyes like a teen girl, and professed that because I’ve known him for three years, that this should allow him to walk Jess to the bus.
“As the only sober one here, I think Mike should walk Jess to the bus. Steve, you can go, but you’re too drunk to know how to get home.”
“I’VE BEEN IN THE SAME FACULTY AS YOU FOR THREE YEARS! AWWWW MAN!!!!”
Needless to say, Mike walked her home with Steve.
I got into bed and noticed the pulsing in my brain get about a hundred times worse.
Then Mike walks in, sans Steve.
“Uhhhh, where’s Steve?”
“He’s out on the porch. I think you should talk to him. He’s really pissed.”
“I can’t do it dude, my head is pounding so hard!”
“Okay, but I think he’s mad I walked Jess home and he needs to talk about it.”
“I’ll give him 20 min, and if he doesn’t come up here, then I’ll go talk to him, but seriously, my head is KILLING ME.”
And so, 19 minutes later, Steve comes into the apartment in the dark.
Then I hear rustling…then quiet.
The next sound I hear, which was some 2 hours later, is the noise I hate most in the world.
I lay awake, thinking that Steve has barfed in his mouth.
I elbow Mike in the spine in an attempt to wake him to this drunken disaster. Mike is so passed out he doesn’t flinch.
I put earplugs in and decide if I don’t hear Steve move a little in the next minute, then I’ll see what’s up. I really can’t stand puke, so the thought that Steve has barfed somewhere on the floor or anything is more than my pounding head can handle.
I hear Steve drag the sleeping bag into the hall.
Then I hear the shower turn on.
I fall asleep for a bit, but my nose is startled awake by the stink of puke.
I sniff around in the dark…
‘No! That’s not what I smell, is it?!’
I try to get back to sleep, but I am forced to bury my head under a mountian of blanket to avoid the putrid aroma.
Steve comes back and opens the windows.
I am kept awake by the constant sounds from the streets.
Then…it’s morning. I discover that THIS is what’s happened:
Steve barfs in his sleep while lying on his back, thus trying to pull a Jimmy Hendrix death.
Steve wakes up and notices he’s puked in Mike’s brother’s sleeping bag.
He pukes again into the sleeping bag.
He freaks out and drags the sleeping bag to the bathroom, where he chucks the bag into the tub in an attempt to wash off the puke.
Steve then realizes we’ve had about 20 pounds of sushi EACH.
He barfs in the tub for a countless amount of time, thus returning all the fish to a somewhat natural habitat.
He freaks out and tries to wash the mess down the drain.
Steve gets a plunger to force everything down the drain.
After scrubbing for an hour, he returns, opens the windows, puts his pants back on, puts his jacket on backwards, and falls asleep.
MORE TO COME…