It was a tense night from the beginning.  I and the boys were enjoying a reminicent atmosphere of college as we played beer pong on the dick covered piece of dry wall sitting in Guidos enclosed porch.  We played games and drank beer.  We drew more pictures on the table, one with draping boobs complete with Vginer and babies fist, the rest of cock N balls.  We drank more.  The typical setting and precursor to a night of threatening testostorone.  Nathanael passed out in a tipped over chair, Casey left in a Taxi cab.  So I guess it was up to the three left to terrorize the city.  We began to walk.  “Ok, we’ll walk to a near bar”.  Well we kind of didn’t,  wether it was the distraction of myself car walking and bustin sicky 540s of parked wagons, or just the sweet cool air of a summer night in D-town, who knows?, I will tell you that the aggression increased as we reached 16th.  Bogey decided to punch a metal box, so I thought to myself, “fuck you, I’m the bigger asshole”.  Thats when it happened, I noticed a pathetic pink and purple lopsided cylindrical trashcan and took out my anger.  By that meaning a jump kick.  Seconds later, a faggish fuck of an asshole rolled into the picture on his pathetic excuse for life taxi bike.  He instantly reminded me that people actually get paid for picking and putting trash in the the cans for a living and that I was insulting their hard days work.  HA HA HA.  Yeah, I thought to myself, just keeping them busy.  I threatened to kick over another, he challenged me, I did; sending a loud noise down the mall and splashing garbage across the street.  Then he threatened me to kick over another.  The boys, “you better not Brian”.  This has a lot of meaning and should be listened to coming from Denver’s two biggest pricks.  So I didn’t kick over another.  Instead I had the impulse to run, and before I could, I heard the rubble!rubble!rubble! of twenty losers (in whitejackets who properly name themselves as security gaurds) surround us.  One cop with two pairs of cuffs secured tightly around Guidos and my wrists.  Bogey’s night began here which is a story in itself.  It was like being the main attraction at the zoo as mall goers slowly passed and stared while I glanced resentful smiles. 

So they took us to detox where Guido and I checked in and blew our pathetic BACs and were excited to share the results.  They gave us plastic beds next to eachother and we laughed at the indian next to us.  Soon enough I fell asleep only to be woken up by Guido leaving.  I spent the next 10 miserable hours by myself listening to people barf on the floor, druggies go into convulsions, crack heads share shit stories, ect. ect.

Breakfast on the outside tasted amazing.

The end of the 2007 baseball season will go down in infamy. The rockies has started a winning streak against some beaten up LA trash, Arizona, and then kept the magic alive to get a shot at the wild card against the San Diego Dude-Bros. Naturally we had to attend this once in a lifetime event. Immediately following the Arizona beat down I raced to the ticket office in a drunken stooper. Somehow, I manage to get us 4 tickets in the club box seats behind home plate??? The rest of the metro area hasn’t deemed the team worthy enough to drive down and buy up all of the tickets yet. I’m not complaining.

Game starts like any other monday afternoon, beer, lippers, and proud girlfriends. We settle into our seats to find out that they really are fucking awesome, except for the tons of marrieds and stiff old people. Oh well, didn’t fuck my night up. Turns out you can really get a lot more beers sitting in the club seats than downstairs. I was double fisting that shit all night. Having the women go out to get more about every half inning. I don’t remember this at all but I had even wandered down to the Sandlot to meet the boulder crew for some good ol shots of Jamo. 

Well, after literally losing track of all awareness I start going in on Mr. Barrett.

“Hey Michael! Carlos is going to come kick your ass again.”

And various other standard chirps…turns out I was being pretty obnoxious for the married crowd. Lots of dirty, go kill your self looks. A few of the old men even told me to shut up. Apparently they didn’t find me reminding everyone about Zambrano punching Barrett in the face as amusing as I did. Some geriatric eventually got an usher to come try and settle me down.

Turned out, my friends, DSC15 and Ethan were sitting right below me cheering me on. Up to DSC form they were as canned as I was. I, however, continue to keep yelling at Peavy, Barret, fuck, anyone I could. I get a phone call from DSC15 telling me to get outta there quickly. Apparently they were going to remove the drunken guy with the cubs hat on(Thats never happened before, really narrows it out). Well I immediately take off my blue shirt and hat and give it to the woman. I grab my beers, very important, and start running down the hall. I literally go straight past the team of security guards that was coming to boot my ass outta there. Good thing I have experience in these sort of situations. I get away completley free. The rest of the night is pretty blurry. I faintly remember walking around by myself on the main concourse for a while “hiding out”. 

They stop serving beer in the 7th. Lame, but what can I say, gotta make sure the wife and kids get back to Thorton safely . I had ran short and needed some more. This is when I make the brave move of returning back to my seats. Thankfully the woman hadn’t guzzeled the 5 or 6 beers we had stock piled and I was still on my way. I keep yelling, but by this time the game had gone into extra innings and the lead had changed a few times. You can read about it in sports illustrated or something, as my recollection is vague. I do however, remember Holliday’s famous play at the plate where Barrett fucked up the tag. Made me feel so much better about my rants earlier on…..

Best sporting event ever!

I am normally a calm boy, especially when I am about to enjoy a fine Chipotle dinner, but not calm for 17 minutes standing in line! As some of you know, I am no longer living in Denver, which is a very very stupid thing…actually this post is proof you should never leave Denver, NEVER!

I know this doesn’t have the classic touches of a DSC story, but Chipotle is an official sponsor of the society, it started in Denver, and they serve booze (can’t go wrong with that). I know I am partly pissed off because I had to drive to Chipotle, and driving in this town is so fucking stupid, but that is an entire book on its own. So I’ll start as I pull up to Chipotle.

Pull into Chipotle parking lot, blasting Techno, all the high schoolers at starbucks look at me, the must be thinking…badass! Well maybe they aren’t, but fuck em, they don’t own a kick ass new car and they have to take a math test tomorrow, and i bet they pray they get to talk to Sexy McCheerleader in the hall, haha sucks to be them! Chipotle trip starts out sweet!

Walk in the door…there is a line, shit! O well, it is Chipotle. Those girls can wrap a burritto faster than Sexy McCheerleader can wrap up a dick on prom night (that simile might not work for you if your hot high school cheerleader didn’t use a condom and got prego’s in high school). Like 6 people in line, that is like 3 minutes tops…WRONG!!!!! What the fuck are you fuckers odering up there, a Pizza! Big girls, asian people, more big people, and pull up your fucking pants kid… that is who is in front of me. Big girl 1: “I want tacos, one beef, one chicken, and one pork.” She then proceeds to slowly pick the most random toppings for each taco, all of them are different. “O wait, I want beans on that too!” FUCK, KILL ME NOW… I just want the girl to make my damn food so i can leave!

Girl two: “I don’t know what I want?” What the hell was she doing while her friend was tring to create the largest possible combination of chipotle ingredients in one basket? 3 minutes go by, seriously I timed it nothing happened for three minutes! It was like a stare down in a poker match. “I know what I want, a burrito bowl.” WITH EVERYTHING ON IT…no wonder your ass is so big, you should have to pay for 4 people. She was sneaky too, she would wait for the girl to put all the meat in the bowl and then say, “O i want half chicken and half steak.” Which actually doubled the amount of meat. The thrid time she tried this, the illegal behind the counter  said she was going to have to pay for extra meat… “No that is ok then,” big girl 2 says.

Asains next. Not too much here, they still don’t know what they want though. Seriously, you couldn’t read the menu? Chipotle has like 4 words on its menu, how long does it take to read that? O and yeah order your burrito  while talking on your cell phone. You know that girl behind the counter doesn’t speak english that well, so when she asks if you want black or pinto, your cell phone better not make you say, “what?” FUCK you said it didn’t you. I want to stab you in the eye!

I could go on, but I will just end it. I finally got to the counter, I knew what I wanted, I knew what they were going to ask me, and I was done so quickly I could have lapped everyone if front of me a million times. Luckly, my cock is bigger than there’s. Got in the saab, bumped the techno and went to get some booze.
God I hate this town. I went with the recommended soft taco, CARNITAS, Hot Salsa, Cheese, Guac…sour cream might have been tops. I just kinda tried to make an American Psycho illusion, I don’t know if it worked or not.

Soooo…my boss had offered tickets to the Avalanche-Red Wings playoff game 3. I had been looking for these all day so this pretty much had me elated. I read/add to blogs for the rest of the day arguing w/ Detroit fans. This makes time fly.

Gotta love Red Wings fans! Touting their passion for a team that has imported players from anywhere but N. America for a long time. I guess they have to root for something since their city is such a piece of shit. Why else would they all move here?

Meat and I start out what seems to be a typical night. Dinner at the D, down a few margs, stumble over to the game, pull on the flask. At this point I’m excited like a hippie in Amsterdam. I even buy a new Avs shirt once they let my drunk ass through the turn stalls. We start by going through the motions of standing in the beer line. Like I need more at this point, butI’m not a pioneer on the idea of one more beer……

As we arrive in our section, I notice that we are completely surrounded by none other than an entire section of white and red. This can’t be good. Avs draw first blood and take the early lead. This gives me a little room to start beaking off. Shortly after, the lead was taken away, we wouldn’t get it back for the rest of the game. I resort to third grade behaviour at this point. We meet up with a friend and his dad, take a few tekillya shots backed by a couple beers……..things start to blur. We return to our seats and I realize I cannot stand these plugs sitting around me. “Does it smell like propane? Or is that just me?”

Only in Detroit. I start chriping…….as we all know how I love to do. I raise a scene such that the usher has to scold me. I calm down for a few, but it didn’t take long before I was right back at it.

Well, the game ends with unfavorable results. I am drunk and unhappy. As anyone that knows me very well, this is not a good combo. I put 2+2 together and realize I have beer in my hand and it has the ability to be thrown into someone’s face. Funny part is in hindsight the guy was trying to make peace with me. Well, that was short lived. Turns out this action doesn’t settle well, and by not settling well I mean with the entire section. GroundZero tries diving after me through Meat.  Basically a fucking melee that somehow has me utterly amused. God I love to pull the trigger. Somewhere in the middle of this I remember a few things:

• Pushing a lot of people off me…ended up shoving someone down the section…oops.
• Getting elbowed in the face by a chick(that’s the extent of the injury report)  
• Meat holding a guy in a headlock.
• Lots of screaming and yelling
• Laughing

This goes on for a little while before the usher decides to step in and give us an escort outta there. Probably a good thing. I run into a few people I know….Colorado is small…I give the victory face and affirm my maturity level

Don’t really understand how this seems to happen time after time. Maybe its just gayness, I don’t know, but when Hamilton and Smalls have a few too many drinks together, their bodies tend to collide in a sort of distorted wrestling/love tangle filled with laughter and akwardness in front of a small gallery. Its exactly what happened in Vail a few years back. Sprawled out in front of the fire giggling on the carpet 90% naked (just boxers), meat on meat. And that’s how the night started. It ended with Hamilton fully naked in his bed, people yanking at his comforter, and Smalls falling off the top bunk, crawling to the bathroom, puking, then gracefully passing out on the heated tile floor.

It all started on one of the many cold nights in the great white north, back when I was with that whore of an ex-girl friend of mine.  You all know the one.  Anyways one of her friends came up to visit so we decided to get shit faced.  I invite my cousin over, you all know him as the guy who got lost in Denver a few news years ago, as he is always down for some drinking.  We proceed to drink a 30 rack of High Life Light and a bottle of vodka while the whores talk.  The rest of the story is based off what I could piece together the next day.  I wake up the following morning hung over and minus my glasses and I get a whif of what smells to be shit.  I decide its me so I got up to take a shower.  As I get into the shower I put my knee on the tub and see a chunk of pooh stuck to my knee.  I walk back into my room and being half blind at this point I get on my knees to investigate and find a smear of pooh.  I deduce that it is in fact dog poop and I go back to the shower.  I finish up, put my contacts in and walk back into my room to find a log of pooh on the carpet and a whole bunch more in the jeans of the whore I was sleeping next to.  I look in the trash can and see what looks to be remnants of improvised toilet paper.  The first thing I do is wake the whore up and blame the pooh on her.  Being defensive and most likely not guilty she creates a scenario of me being naked in my room and not wanting to walk through the living room to the bathroom to take a shit, so you decide to poop in the trash can and ended up pooping on the floor and in the jeans.  Since I had tried pooping in a drawer my freshman year this seemed like a reasonable explanation.  I still blame the whore for shitting on my floor but if I did I am glad I shit all over her $100 pair of jeans.

Not really sure how it got to this point, but when I showed up at 914 after playing the Rapids, Quo had succesfully yanked DSC006 penis through a pizza box. It was a glorious moment for DSC006 as he was pucking laughter. Maybe someone else can elaborate and fill in the details.

Well, my pooped ‘em story isn’t as cool, but does go further back in time. I was like 13 and I threw up so hard i pooped em, but i guess that doesn’t really count because it didn’t involve alcohol. So I will go with the story that qualifies me for the pooped ‘em category. 

KO = Kicked out
Hamilton with 2 KOs – one for “sneaking in underagers”, another for being friends with Coco
Coco – 1 KO for adding a chair to his victory face
Hamilton + Coco = crab cakes and a digery doo at 4:00AM.

As we all know Edays happened to be the one time in a Mines dorks’ year where they let loose and pretended that we partied like a real school…kind of.  Well one of my favorite stories happens to be me retelling it in the third person, as I don’t remember about 75%of it. Our infamous gambling addict friend had won somewhere in the ballpark of a few grand that week so naturally he went shopping at the liquor store (he also loves to shop at bars)…with a cart. Naturally I started at his house, and by started I mean blacking out. My reaction to the amount of his liquor was basically the same as a 12 year old with his first playboy…..jerked it till it was raw. Here is where the next few hours goes blank. I was told I went to a party, fireworks show, and that I chugged a half bottle of jack. Maybe I was trying to recreate the famous Animal House scene?

Somewhere towards the end of the night(my night, not everyone else’s) I want to go have sex with my woman at the time. Well I tried to do this in the car parked out front with no avail. However, I did manage to get only my pants off. Apparently I was chased around Golden wearing nothing but a sweater and shoes(I am confused too) while being told to put my pants back on for a good 30-40 minutes. By the grace of god, I mean titties, I was corraled into her car to go back to Denver. Believe it or not here is where it gets real blurry. Apparently, I was throwing up so hard out the window while driving down sixth that I SHIT MY PANTS. Well, about 10 miles later I had taken my pants off completely (yes ass naked again except the shirt) and tried to get into my building. Good thing my keys and wallet were back in Golden (as I would find out the next day). Well at this point in order for the doorman to let me in he had called as many people as he could to verify that I in fact did live there. Keep in mind this nice, innocent woman has been standing there enduring all of this shit.