So Friday was the big stag. I didn’t want a stag. I assumed that Biff realized that but apparently I didn’t actually verbalize it. Or maybe I did and he did it any way. “You know I had nothing to do with your stag, I was just to take you there. A task which you made exceedingly difficult…” “Wanna play another game of golf?” “No, why don’t we just go?”

Now, I don’t really drink, not even socially. Sometimes I do but I really don’t care either way. Not for any reason, I just don’t. I fully expected to puke all over everything and everyone and Biff was to be my first victim. He’s good with hand washing delicates so I figured it was the way to go. Oddly, it was not to be.

I was ‘lead’ to The SoHo where there was beer and pool, followed by dinner. As I ate my fish I wondered to myself how long it would be until we met again as visions of Team America flashed through my mind. The first shooter almost did it; a vile Prairie Fire which seemed to be entirely tobasco.

We left for The Cecil where more beer and shooters where placed in front of me over the course of the evening. I decided I would politely thank the person for the drink and knock it back without thinking about it. *cheers* It seemed to work. I was certainly drunk but I didn’t feel sick. “What a fascinating turn of events…” This didn’t really compute as they seemed to be getting the most conflicting of shooters for me to knock back for their amusement.

In any event it was a great night. Walking home seemed to kick things up a little but by then I really didn’t care any more. Much to my surprise, I felt pretty good in the morning. Not even a headache though it wasn’t the most restful of sleeps.

Thanks to Biff for setting it up and to everyone who showed up. I saw a few guys that I haven’t seen in a while and it was cool catching up with them. I still have no idea why Andrea wasn’t invited tho… We remarked that we should do this once in a while just for the hell of it and I’d be the first one there.

You guys are buying again, right?