Rape Whistling my Way Through The Holiday

I always hate when drinking holidays fall on the week days. Nevertheless, I made this Cinco De Mayo a quality one. I spent the day re-hydrating from Sunday night’s double birthday festivities, so I was ready for the night to begin. Unfortunately, Landon and I got kicked out of Pancho Villas, but not for a good reason; apparently after 8:30 they stop letting new people come in. WTF?! You are a Mexican Resteraunt on Cinco De Mayo, get your head in the game! We ended up walking down the street to Little Tijuana’s, which was a giant fail move, because they didn’t serve any alcohol. Seriously, what is the point of liberation or whatever Cinco De Mayo is about if you aren’t going liberate some heavily potent margaritas and Mexican food? Next year we are considering just getting a jug or two of the pre-made margaritas with the XXX on the label and sitting in the parking lot of Taco Bell.

We managed to recover, and after a few Guinness at home (hey, it’s always a good time of year to drink Guinness), we walked down to Old Chicago, where they gave us beads, plastic maracas, and these light up rape whistles. The drunker we got, the more fun it was to make noise. By the time we walked home, we sounded like a goddamn carnival; I’m sure the people who live on Hennepin were pleased as punch to hear us, but fuck them if they cant enjoy the holiday... Them not enjoying our copious noise probably just means they hate Mexicans.

The weekend treated us well. Friday, Calvin Crustitron and Landon and I walked to Old Chicago in the rain and met up with a chick that Calvin Crustitron was interested in. At least until she mentioned three other dudes were railing her. That caused Landon and I to text back and forth, very stealth-like about her skankfulness, and how she needs to shut her whore-hole because she was pissing off the waitress. From there we went to Bar Abaleine, because we caused a scene at Old Chicago when Landon threw pineapple down my shirt and I started punching him in the arm. After Bar Abaleine we met up with Jason at his house, where Calvin (still being angry from finding out Katie was a slut, and hearing Jason and I discuss who could get in her pants first) started walking around with a bottle of patron, drinking like a salty sea pirate.

Shortly after that, the night ended. Ok, this rodeo has already gone on long enough. Saturday and Sunday’s exploits will need to be told tomorrow.