As Steven Tyler once said: "It's Amazing"

Old English: 1
Moe: 52

Contrary to popular belief, I did not spend Thursday night downing several small bottles of Old English furniture polish. Nor did I spend the evening shooting pool at the Old English Pub (although... well, that would have been a really good idea).
Nay, I spent the evening driving around northern new jersey, top of the saab down. I successfully downed 52 oz. of beer in 30 minutes. Testosterone levels were high.

Please, allow me to explain something: most of my previous injuries have been testosterone induced. Certainly self-induced, but also testosterone induced.
Thursday was no exception. Example:

"Here. Have a 40. The rest of us are having 40's... and seeing as how we're guys, we're sure to finish them LONG before your wussy girly self does..."
(paraphrased in order to make my freaking point)

So how do I respond? Well, I respond by making damn sure that the 40, along with a 12 oz. bottle fo XXX, was down the trap within 30 minutes.

I spent Friday morning wishing I had jumped out a window. Gatorade made me feel only slightly better. Granted, 52 oz. of beer is not an extraordinary amount, but it did something to me that I don't care to experience again anytime soon.

Saturday night was spent with the brothers and Brandon (best bud since... well, since forever) amazingly called me to hang out (he hasn't returned my calls for about 6 months now. OK, so not best bud since forever. argh) and we decided to grace Finnagel's with our glorious presence. Much tequila was consumed. This is another example of the testosterone induced madness that I was speaking of earlier. Tequila? Sure. I'll have whatever you guys are having. And I'll be damned if I'm going to have a chaser to go along with it. Chasers are for wussies. I am not a wussy! I am a warrior!
OK, so we drank tequila, blah blah blah (blah cubed), and then JC, Tony, and I went home, watched a young girl get a DUI right in front of our house (long story - you can make one up if you'd like), and then left to go out and put up lawn signs for GWB. Out until 5 in the morning, with the dog, and AC/DC on the hi fi. I don't even know where all we put up signs, but we put up about 65 or so. We got tired after awhile and decided to call it a night. JC and I were halfway into a bottle of Petrone, and Tony (the only sober one with us - including the dog) was getting tired of driving. So we called it quits and head home at dawn.

hrmmm... JC is starting to get more political than me. But he's fun. He's fun when he's political and drunk.