Thursday, October 22, 2009

Lola vs. Cooper's Stay and Kane's Weakness

My friend Cooper, who was welcomed into my blog with the infamous (is it megalomaniacal to call one's own post infamous? Yeah, well, I'm going with it anyway) two part stripper post, came to visit at Case de Lola this past weekend. After a rough week, he decided that my house was the best place to lick his wounds and, well, I sort of plied him with alcohol, doused him with football, and threw in some shenanigans for good measure.

The next morning I woke, groggy, with tiny drums pounding a tribal rhythm against the inside of my head and my mouth cotton dry. I made a sound that could only be described as a wild animal mewling in pain due to multiple limbs being hacked off when the sun hit me smack in the face through the blinds. I blinked and moved my head slowly, delicately to the right. No one was in the bed next to me. Considering that a good sign, I decided to check on Cooper. I crawled through my kitchen into the other bedroom and then promptly flopped/tripped onto Cooper's bed. He grunted, flung his hand over his eyes, and moved over to give me some room. It took me about thirty-seven minutes but I finally managed to get myself into a position where at least half my body was on the bed. The other half, i.e. my legs, dangled in a very skewed position that any cirque du soleil member would have been proud of.

Once we weren't comfortable at all, we began to piece together the events that had occurred the night before. The morning after is perhaps one of the best parts about a night of solid, forget-your-troubles drinking. Not the tribal drum beat in your head bit. But the having someone to discuss how idiotic we were the night before bit.

Lola: My bones hurt.
Cooper: (sluggish) Ugh.
Lola: No, I'm serious. Is it possible to drink so much alcohol that it will actually melt your bones? (unidentified mewling animal sound) Who thought it was a good idea to drink Johnny Walker?
Cooper: (snickering) Apparently you did.
Lola: I don't even know where we ended up last night. There was dancing, bad deejaying, and men in tight white button down shirts with silver chains. (confused, now) And trees in the bathroom? I wasn't hallucinating, right? There were actually trees in the bathroom walls.
Cooper: No, there were trees. You made Kat and I demonstrate those trees via a picture montage. You took a lot of pictures.
Lola: And shots.
Cooper: And shots. (pause, thinking) I don't remember paying my tab. Well, I remember the intention of going to pay it, just not the actually paying of it. God, I hope it's less than the stripper.
Lola: Should we be upset that our lives have come to ye old 'At least it wasn't a stripper' adage?

Looking back Cooper and I probably shouldn't have started drinking at 3:30pm directly after a discussion over how the night now had a layer of pressure over it because we had to do something that was "blogworthy". Which is ridiculously really. Now I have to measure my nights out by whether they are interesting enough to put in my blog? Sigh. With great power comes great responsibility, I suppose.

As I was talking to another friend out at wherever the hell we ended up with loud music and tight shirts, about the essence of blogworthy, a guy came up to me and loudly proclaimed that he thought everything I did was blogworthy. But he had crazy eyes, so I slowly backed away.

Other notable occurrences:
  • Random Guys Jumping Into Our Picture, Looking Inordinately Happy About It- 2
  • Drunk Texts Sent Out- 4 (one of which loosely translated to: "I had lobster, am wearing orange")
  • Fights Started: 1
  • UPBs (Unidentified party bruises): 3
  • Boston Songs Sung at the Top of Our Lungs After Loudly Shouting Out the Windows of the Car that Boston will not be suppressed: 1
This night has also made me realize that I need to invest in a tape recorder just to document the ridiculousness and hilarity that comes into play during drunken conversations. And also to document the utterly inept attempts at describing our political views.

Cooper's rather brilliant theory on the whole Falcon hoax kept us entertained for at least 45 minutes. His conclusion that no one would give a damn about Falcon and his father's weather balloon if his name was like Bobby or Tom or something inane like that made us laugh so hard that tears rolled down our cheeks. His story even inspired the 87 year old diner waitress to give Cooper a very enthusiastic, yet suspicious, high-five.

It was after the high-five that things really fell apart.

Because someone had to bring up George Bush. Politics and religion are the worst things to talk about when drunk and it's usually Kane who defuses such nonsense. He is my moral compass- intelligent, grounded, strong with a healthy dose of sound judgment and a great bullshit-o-meter.

However, Johnny Walker Red is his undoing. Yes, my friends, Kane has a weakness. After several glasses of that weakness, all aforementioned intelligence has a tendency to dissipate into thin air.

Kane: George Bush is the devil.
Cooper: What exactly about George Bush do you hate?
Kane: He sent people to their deaths. Some people I know. (pause, hiccup) And some people you may know.
Cooper: Ok, well then. Well, what about his policies?
Kane: (long drawn out pause in which we thought he might have passed out) He sent people to their deaths! (shouting, pointing) Some people I know. And some people you may know. (looks down at his chicken sandwich) I don't want this.

Sorry Kane, that I have outed your weakness. But it was all in the name of entertainment. And really how many times have I pointed out mine in this venue? Enough, I think.

Unless you guys want to hear about the time I embarrassed myself in front of a Hollywood film icon? Naaah...that wouldn't be blogworthy at all, would it?


32 comments:

Hunter said...

Johnny Walker Red is a cunning adversary. Not surprising that it would be Kane's undoing.

Fun post as always!

The Peach Tart said...

What a great night out with friends. That damn Johnny Walker Red has been my downfall on more than one occasion.

ladytruth said...

I get UPBs all the bloody time! I was a closet UPBsie until you mentioned it here. Hail Lola for this great blog!

Judearoo said...

I see you too suffer from the dreaded brain pygmies and their f-ing drumming...

My sympathies, girlie!

mysterg said...

I'm not sure what is worse about the morning after - the hangover or finding the receipts from where you withdrew all your cash and spent it on strippers and alcohol...

I'm looking forward to the Hollywood film icon blog!

Secretia said...

We haven't had this much fun since "I don't remember w.....he ...n?"

otherworldlyone said...

I'll take the drumming over the receipts any day. Gawd those are awful.

Hollywood film icon? Report immediately!

*uncorked said...

Ugh, Johnny Walker has kicked my ass so many times, I've tried to kick back, but fail miserably.

I love that you also think the next morning is one of the best parts of the night before. The first thing I do when I get up (obviously after I tie something tightly around my head to help the headache, take my cocktail of drugs to help said headache, and brush my teeth for a record amount of time) is look for my purse. Purse? Check. Wallet? Check. Camera? Cell phone? Oh God, what kind of texts came in/went out last night? Then you flip on the camera, and oh God (again), is that me on the bar? Is that my nipple? Who is that ape of a man grabbing my ass? We went to THAT bar? Oh I love it.

And can't wait for the Hollywood icon blog. Those are always spectacular. I once asked Jerry Springer if he was that Steve guy from the Jerry Springer show. Pretty sure that was a first for him.

Stereos and Souffles said...

I remember those mornings trying to piece things together. And the unconfortable feeling when you realize there IS someone in the bed next to you. Then you check under the covers and hope to God you're both wearing clothes!

LiLu said...

Oh, you tease you!

angryredhead said...

I LOVE those nights, except when you wake up with vomit in your hair, laugh about how someone else vomited in your hair, and then discover its yours.

UPB? I get those ALL the time! Awesome. Your guy friends sound like fun, let's trade for a few weeks.

Also, definitely wanna hear that story.

Lola Lakely said...

@Hunter & Peach- It sounds like many a people have issued with Johnny Walker Red. Why haven't we made it illegal yet? Thanks you lovelies for always stopping by and leaving comments!

@ladytruth- I am glad my post allowed for you to come out of the UPB closet. My goal is to bring awareness to the UPB across oceans and continents.

@Judearoo- At first I was worried about having drumming in my head because I thought they may turn into voices at some point. But they've stayed at drumming for quite awhile now, so i think I'm safe.

@mysterg- I hate having to retrace my steps with only the receipts as evidence.

@Secretia- Exactly!

@otherworldlyone- Oh, just you wait. First I have to post about the marriage I saw disintegrate in the grocery store the other day.

@uncorked- I don't know why, but I love those mornings after. I definitely did have the camera WTF moment, especially when viewing Cooper and Kat demonstrating the bathroom tree poses. I laughed so hard. Plus, the hung-over trip to the corner deli afterwards is great fun too. The guy who owns it consistently makes fun of me and the parade of different guy friends that accompany me. Cooper practically shouted "We didn't sleep together" entirely for the owner's benefit.

Lola Lakely said...

@stereos- Mornings with friends where we piece together i can handle. But not so much the morning after with random guy I may have slept with.

@Lilu- All I have to say is muahahahahaha

@angryredhead- Instead of wife swap, we can like male friend swap. And document it via blog instead of via reality television!

mo.stoneskin said...

Truth is that chicken sandwiches are often dull. Cheese and pickle (that ol') classic is a much better option.

Happy Hour...Somewhere said...

I guess watching the movie The Hangover was like ho hum, been there, done that. Well, except for the BJ in the elevator at the end of the movie. But I imagine chickens and tigers are not that farfetched. Ah, to be in my 20s again....

Kate said...

Cool post - just discover the blog and am entirely too familiar with confused mornings

Kate x

Trinity said...

That is freaking ridiculous and further proof that i need to come to NJ to party with you so I can say I have lived.

Merrick said...

I once drank to the point where my ankles had pins and needles for an entire day- bad times. As always, you never disappoint, Lola but maybe hitting the booze at 3:30 isn't advisable? Lemme guess, ND football game? A worthy cause, at least.

Lola Lakely said...

@mo.stoneskin- I, however, decided to carbo-load. I had fries, grilled cheese, and potatoe skins smothered with cheese. Ugh, I gained minimum ten pounds.

@HappyHour- I knew there was a reason I liked you!

@Kate- Thanks for stopping by! I live for confused mornings. As long as there is someone there with me to march through the confusion.

@Trinity- The invitation is open! Wow, I have a lot to live up to don't I? It does sound like it, but I swear not everything I do revolves around drinking.

@Merrick- You are correct, sir, about the ND football game and it is a very worthy cause. Unfortunately, it looks like a repeat this weekend as the game starts at 3:30 and I am going into the city directly after that. Sigh.

Mr O said...

these posts are always so entertaining, where do I begin:

*is there any way we can get examples of said pictures?

*is it bad that I am willing to put my phone number out for the world to see just for the chance to possibly, one day, get drunk texts from you?

*I have been complimented on my eyes, the only consistent thing throughout my life, so I can safely say they aren't crazy. So I can say this: everything you do is blogworthy.

*I loved how after he repeated himself, his attention turned solely to his chicken sandwich

*Lastly, how in the hell are you going to tease us at the end like that? You knew what you were doing...

Lola Lakely said...

Dearest Mr. O,

First of all, I'm blushing right now at the mention that you think everything I do is blogworthy. Sigh. Duly noted and now I'll be sure to email you some of the pictures. ;) And if you are willing to email me your phone number, I can guarantee a bevy of drunken texts.

Lovingly,

Lola

P.S. It's not really a tease when you intend to follow through? Right?

You Make My Date said...

I've got a variation on UPB - UPC (unidentified party cuts). Not sure how it happens, but I seem to always wake up the next morning, with little scratches/cuts down my chest. And that'd normally sound like a good thing...except that when I wake up, I am definitely alone in my bed!

Absolutely love your blog, can't wait to hear more naughty tales :)

Cool as Folk said...

Am I the only person that REALLY REALLY wants to see these pictures? Especially those of the bathroom trees?

HE SENT PEOPLE TO THEIR DEATHS, MAN.

Lola Lakely said...

@You make my Date- Thank you so much for stopping by and opening my eyes to the cousin of the UPB. Stick around, and I promise I will deliver on the naughty tales.

@CoolasFolk- You are not the only one who really, really wants to see the pictures. Perhaps I should add them to the post then. I only have pictures of my friends pretending to be the bathroom trees though, sorry to disapoint. You rock in the comment department!

JennyMac said...

HAHAHA...too funny. And talking about George Bush is nauseating at any time. LOL.

Hollywood icon? Share all.

angryredhead said...

@Lola: Let's DOOOO IT! god that'd be funny. we need a blogger party.

Lola Lakely said...

@angryredhead- Maybe I should just coral my boys and come up and see you. That way we would have an EPIC, I repeat EPIC, weekend of alcoholism, whores, and judgments. Oh, wait. I forgot I am not supposed to be drinking any longer because that effing article came out to make us heavy drinkers feel so shallow. Sigh.

Matthew said...

Sometimes I fear that my blogworthy days are behind me. I'm almost tempted to start stalking someone or go on a shoplifting spree just for something to write about.

The pressure, man. Unbearable.

Lola Lakely said...

@JennyMac- Oh, it will be written about. The story is just too good to keep to myself.

@Matthew- Reading your blog makes me think that your blogworthy days are definitely not behind you. Although, I would kind of like the perspective of the stalker.

Simon said...

Sadly, as an unsociable non-drinker, the only thing I can identify with here is the Unexplained Bruises, which in my case I put down to alien abduction. And probes of course.

Still, your anecdotes of embarrassment, confusion, and pounding headaches are my entertainment, for which I am truly grateful. Perhaps you are one of my several illegitimate daughters after all – several of the others behave in ways that would put their father to shame, if he had any shame.

Lola Lakely said...

@Simon, ahhhhh the infamous probe. Perhaps one of those UPB's came from a DNA test? I am profoundly happy that I could provide you with anecdotes of embarrassment and confusion. It is comforting to know that you have no shame. As a possible illegitimate daughter, that means I don't have any standards of shame that I need to live up to. The relief over here is palpable.

jules said...

Trust me. The recorder is a bad idea. Sometimes my camera gets switched to video and the next day I hear my drunk voice saying "Isss on record again." And it's not a pretty sound! I'd prefer to live in ignorance of how I said, which is why I just take nots of one liners on bar napkins for reference the next day.