Social Debacles Of Lil’ Biznas Planz – Part I

Most of you know me well, are probably aware that I often times end up in absurd situations. Some of these situations are either direct consequence of my own actions, (aka excessive alcohol consumption) or just by a stroke of my own version of ridiculous “luck.” Whether its getting an HJ under a table at Conors, or making my own little movies with a lucky female patron, its clear that amusement seems to follow me, for better or worse.

I have often shared these stories with friends, quite vocally, and often in public places without any regard for wandering ears. My lack of caring has lead me to the decision that I should keep our loyal readers in the loop of my tomfoolery. So from now on, anytime my shenanigans create a memorable moment, I will tell the story leaving no detail left out, (okay some) strictly for your amusement. That being said, here is the first entry in The Social Debacles of Lil’ Biznas Planz.

It was Saturday night and some friends were planning on gettin’ after it at a downtown bar. Obviously, I’m in.  The night began at about 7, in which my dinner consisted of a subway sandwich and creatine. Solid mix for a night of binge drinking. A friend and I begin drinking the manliest combo of alcohol ever, Allen’s Coffee Brandy , and Coors Original. This friend also provided me with a “going away present” which happened to be Tadalafil. For those if you that don’t know it by its silly science name, you may know it from those commercials with those awkward separate bathtubs, Cialis, or as I like to call it, Testicle Tylenol. Cialis promises an instant erection whenever you get the urge. The kicker…it lasts 36 hours, sometimes more. Now I know what you are thinking, and no, I don’t have any issues getting it up, and would be happy to provide a list of young women who can attest, or you can just ask your mom, but I digress.

I was advised by this friend to not take it unless you guarantee you are getting some ass, otherwise you are just going to waste it and be miserable. I listen to him, and keep on drinking. We wind up at Revolution Rock Bar after a quick trip to Brighton to drink more Coffee Brandy and Coors Original. The place is bumping and the women are looking fantastic. I get the feeling this is going to be a great night. We quickly start pounding Rolling Rocks and shots of Patron, and I feel glorious. Several young women seem to be looking our way and I convince myself that I am getting laid tonight. I look at my friend who had provided me with the pill, think for a second and say, “fuck it, I gotta do it.” I swallow the pill and wash it down with rolling rock. I don’t think the nearby women are ready for Bonerfest 2009, though I sure as hell am.

We start talking to some desperate women in a bachelorette party who clearly jealous of their friend getting married because that means she is the only one getting laid. They are quite into us and are each probably wetter than a lake. There I said it. While talking to one of them, I suddenly feel a wave of dizziness come over me, and I can barely stand. I somehow manage to meander over to the bar, and ask the bartender “can I close my tab and can I have a water.” Though it probably sounded like drunken gibberish, she just shook her head and says something. I can’t understand what she says, so I just leave the bar without my card but with my water, go figure.

I take one step out and the bouncer takes my water away, and instead of arguing with him, I stumble into traffic and walk across the street to some building and proceed to vomit all over a window for a good 5 minutes. At this point, its I know exactly what I am doing, but everything is spinning so fast I can’t function. This isn’t just me being drunk…the boner pill is exhibiting one of its famous side effects, dizziness. I try to start walking forward, but I cant and keep stumbling backwards for what I say was about 10 feet, until I hit the back of my head on one of those metal tree protectors which happen to be on all trees downtown. Just what I needed. Awesome to the max.

The dizziness now triples, with a combination of alcohol, bonerpills, and a smashed noggin. While attempting to question my life choices up until this point, I manage to walk forward about 20 feet and grab a parking meter holding myself up. Two Mexicans are standing about 5 feet to my left and are clearly talking about me. I don’t care, and began wish I knew Spanish. Why the fuck did I take Latin for six years?

I walk a few steps more and see a cab, awesome. I flag it down and he actually lets me in even though I can’t stand. Instead of trying to explain where my apartment is, I just say take me to Mass Ave and Columbus. The cab drives for maybe 2 minutes, before I ask him to pull over. He pulls over just in time for me to open up the door and start to vomit everywhere again. I am now lying on my stomach, in the back of a cab, puking on the street. Man I’m a keeper. I don’t want to subject this man to anymore of my bullshit, so I decide to get out here. I am about to give him a few bucks when I realize I have puked all over his door. I give him 10 bucks and get out.

It then hits me that I have no idea where I am. I think I am in the South End, but everything is spinning so fast I might as well be in Azerbaijan. Relying completely on my middle aged man direction skills, I somehow make it back to my apartment. Time check! Its only 11:55. How depressing.

I set up shop for the evening, face down on my bed, next to a trash can with the air conditioner full blast. I contemplate how I have wasted the night because I was too busy practicing how to fall in the street and vomit out of cab doors. I kinda get bummed out thinking about the wasted pill and all its potential glory. You are usually able to emerge from the abyss of a wasted evening like this one only when a silver lining or some sort of positive aspect presents itself…and then it hits me…I HAVE HAD A BONER THIS ENTIRE TIME!

As I begin to doze off, images of midgets using my dong as a pull up bar put a smile on my face. I fall asleep soundly recalling that “oh yeah, this lasts for 36 hours…Sunday-Funday? I think so.