Good times.

Well, the streak is over. The last time I threw up from drinking too much was when I went on a mancation to Green Bay. November 2006. After about 25 or so beers (wish I was kidding) I spilled my cookies that morning before the 11AM kickoff. Fast foward to Saturday night for a minute. My wonderful sister in law bartends at this place called Beckett's. It's downtown Manhattan on a tiny street laced with other bars. It's basically a sports bar. So we go and I had a Super Bowl Sunday with my football team so I wanted to take it easy. You know, some wings maybe 5 or 6 beers and call it a night. Yeah. That worked out well. What ended happening was 8 or 9 beers, couple of Irish Car Bombs AND 4 or 5 shots of 18 year old Jameson. As we left the bar my cousin took a menu chalkboard, I took a traffic cone off the street and Wolf dunked on a traffic pedestrian light and SHAQ'D it. No shit the fucking thing came crashing down. Either it was loose or Wolf is really a small gorilla. Good times.

Anyway I got home somehow and laid in bed. A minute later I was ass naked in the bathroom with my head in the toilet. Got up the next morning and felt like dogshit. Drove the wife to work and got back to get dressed for my game. Still wasn't right. Had to purge again. So, I did what I had to do and immediately felt better. Picked up the boys and headed to the field. Snacking on cheeze-its and water. Played, played well but we lost. By 3 points. Losing $5000 to a team you despise is the turd on the cake. Sucked. And now I had to nurse a hangover. Like woe.