The breakup weekend (part II).

When we LAST left ShyGuy, he was battling a bout of Deja vu over showing his ballsac to a friend’s girlfriend…

*     *     *

Because what grown man doesn’t like showing his genitals.

I don’t believe I actually did this but AMDB decided we should get off the bus- though I think he just mistakenly thought it was our stop. Either way, we got off and walked a couple blocks.

Have you noticed at this point how much attention I’ve paid to ChaCha?

SO the night ends and we all pass out.

When we awake, I wanted to go to the beach, so we got breakfast then went to the beach, listened to tunes, played in the ocean, and went back to the condo by noon to start drinking. Any good day drinking must include corn hole, so that’s what we were obviously playing. After a good couple hours of outdoor festivities, AMDB and I are sufficiently pleased with ourselves and decide to make a bet on the next game of corn hole that we play. The bet is that the losing team has to take one shot of every different alcohol that’s in the house. Nobody knew at that point how much it was. That was part of the fun. We shook on it and the game was on.

I have never played a better game in my life. I was consistently putting bags in the hole and on the board. I was- with respect to  old school NBA Jam- en fuego.

Unfortunately- someone forgot to shut the refrigerator, maybe that’s the reason my partner was acting so cold? He sucked.

And we lost in quadruple overtime.

Into the house we march to accept our punishment and take it like men. The only problem: The cupboards and freezers seemed to be like magicians hats that just kept producing more liquor. Two flavored vodka’s, two tequilas, two rums, a gin, one-fifty-one, and some clown pulled out absinthe.

Welp, see ya tomorrow.

Through some rather impressive negotiating tactics, we managed to successfully argue that the two different kinds of Vodka, tequila, and rum were really the same so we didn’t need to take two shots of each. But still. After drinking beer most of the day, we each decided to split the 6 shots, and fired back three, bam, bam, bam.

This is where someone else should take over telling the story.

Here’s what I remember: Somersaults. Lots of somersaults.

What I don’t remember but have been told since:

I played a game of beer pong in which I dominated- like hit 9 of 10 cups, the one I missed being the last cup.

I also walked up to one of the AMDB’s buddies whom I hadn’t met until then and who’s girlfriend is super butch and asked him all about his sex life with a linebacker.

Upon hearing Katy Perry’s Fireworks started an impromptu underwear dance party- which others obviously joined- just like the music video.

Retreated to the restroom to barf, then returned to the party and bought $80 worth of Papa Johns pizza on my credit card.

Then, and only then, did I acknowledge ChaCha in that I started humping her and saying ‘why don’t you like my foreplay’. Did I mention this was in front of everyone?

I came out of blackout with my head on the floor of the bathroom where the toilet was spotless- I like to clean when I’m drunk apparently. And an almost completely eaten pizza next to me in the box. As I left the bathroom, there was ChaCha sitting on the bed holding my cell phone.

“I went through it” she said.

“Why’d you do that?” I asked.

“Because I was convinced there was someone else”

“Did you find anyone else?”

“No”

“HA! Well now I don’t feel so bad for blacking out and not paying attention to you.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the last meaningful conversation I had with ChaCha.

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