Tour de Stupid

I went to bed on Saturday night with what was possibly the worst headache of my life. You see, at midnight on Sat, I was hungover, actually significantly into my hangover, and usually I think I’m asleep by the time I hit that point of my hangover. But, there I was, awake, kind of like the walking dead, and I know I felt awful, and I’m kind of thinking I looked even worse. I don’t really know. I could barely keep my eyes open long enough to get a glimpse of myself given my severe tiredness.

Anyway so let’s see. Saturday morning I was awake by 8:30am and over at Kokkomonster’s by 9:15am for a mimosa. I was hurried out of Kokko’s less than 15 minutes later by a crazy raging bitch that lived next door. Granted, I was blocking her parking spot, but that is no reason to foam at the mouth while abusing the f* word at 9:30am on a Saturday. And granted, she lives next door to KokkoM who has been on a bender for maybe 8 months straight, throwing little soiress until 4:30am on weeknights, but again, no reason to be so terribly terribly offensively scarily crazy. I think she almost spit in my face.

Btw, Saturday was Tour de Strand. For the uninformed: an annual event that brings current students and alums together for over 13 miles of biking and drinking in no particular order. Apparently you can get arrested for BUIs which is a wonder to me b/c there were like 200 retards let loose on the streets of the SoCal beaches on beach cruisers, with stomachs devoid of any food except yeasty beery goodness, and shark attack buckets which are wicked, venomous buckets of red stuff that come with 4 straws but might be better served by 8 or perhaps 12, and we didn’t get arrested.

There is photographic evidence of the moment when I tipped off my bike and into the sand, there is photographic evidence of me smooching someone that I need not have been smooching. You will see none of these photos posted here, but rest assured that they exist, so I can never run for office as I may be accused of being unstraight, but I do assure you that I most definitely, most definitely, like boys. There was lots of other stuff too, but honestly, at this point, it’s mostly one giant messy swirl. I only see pics that other circulate to let myself that I was in good, or really terrible, depending on your perspective, company.

And at some point, I dropped my bike off and was driven to Redondo Beach. A few things happened here. I began to fall asleep in my food, I called that loser boy who lives in Redondo (have since deleted his number; promise!), and I realized in my sobering up state that I had never wanted to be in my bed so badly. So instead of waiting for Stu and crew to leave, I sought out a cab. But I realized it would be too $$ to get back home, so I went over to Doempke’s to sleep. But there I discovered about 15 jackasses singing karaoke. I am a lover of karaoke, I am, but shit, I think my opinion of this medium might be permanently damaged. I drowsed on the couch before getting Stu, my future roommate and pretty much the sweetest sweetie and punkin-iest punkin in the world, to drive down and get me. And then it was home, and bed, and Jack and Jill in the morning.

I just want to know who ever thought it was a good idea to ride bikes for 10+ miles while drunk in the hot sun. My tanlines, which are a complete mess, my ass, which was sore on Sunday, my head, which wanted to explode – they would all beg to differ with the intelligence of this idea. And yet, here we are, in grad school, coming up with such brilliant little voyages. I guess it’s our spirit of entrepreneurship. It’s like, we can bike…we can drink…but let’s do something novel, we’ll bike – we’ll drink – at the same time! For an entire day! From 9am until past 9pm! It’ll be brilliant! We’ll all risk life and limb and drive on two unprotected wheels in 4 lanes of traffic! With no helmets!

Genius. Anyway, I shall leave you with this. Listen to these bands: 1) The Higher; 2) Shiny Toy Guns