Trash picka

As many of you know, I'm a great friend of the environment, but I'm an even greater friend to those in need. This past weekend, 'those in need' happened to be TGCOM(The Great Commonwealth of Massachusetts)'s own Department of Conservation and Resources. Or Recreation. Either way - the DCR. And thanks in part to a terrific gesture on the part of my company's CEO to volunteer his employees' time (thanks big guy!), I had the opportunity to help the good folks of the DCR, and moreso the good folks of TGCOM. We were going to help clean up Pleasure Bay. And I pretty much covered all the jokes pertaining to that name, so you needn't waste comedic effort.

L and I rolled up stylishly late, at around 9:15am. There was a throng gathered, and a nervous excitement was palpable. We were soon met by a DCR representative, who informed us we'd parked in the wrong lot and we should move.

Queue 30 people getting in their cars and driving about 200 yards away. Now we're in the correct spot. Phew - we almost wasted a bunch of time!

Next, our 'equipment' is handed out. I elect to take a long stick with a tetanus-inducing spike on the end of it. L grabs some trash bags. I commence trying to stab her foot. Subtle body language indicates she isn't enjoying the game. These are the signals you learn to interpret when you're with someone for a long time. In unrelated news, kicks to the groin are unacceptable in all but life or death situations.

We're given minimal instruction and sent out to improve the park. For L and me, this task consists primarily of stabbing (or picking up with gloved hands) cigarette butts and tiny pieces of trash. I'm pretty sure they sent us to the cleanest park in the Metro area. Maybe it's to give us the false idea that this sort of activity is fun, rewarding and easy. Well, I'm not fooled.

Not to say we didn't improve the area - I mean check out some of our treasures:
Score one for the good guys. That's an unused needle, for those of you counting at home. Needless to say the rest of the day was pretty great.

I should probably clue everyone in to what L has been doing for work since we moved to TGCOM:

Don't smile - you're here to pay society's price for what you did.

Probably going to have to go ahead and put the effort in and open that image to get it. My apologies.

Gingivitis doesn't take days off.

Enthusiasm doesn't always translate into aptitude, even though it should. Leave that alone.

So after all that work, it was already 11:15am. Where does the time go? At this point, we returned all our prison shiv/trash pickers and were treated to lunch at a local takeout place. Delicious tax write off.

Immediately following these activities, I got us hopelessly lost in South Boston, turning a 40 minute drive into a 75 minute drive. And that's with a map. It's really not a weekend unless I get to drive through neighborhoods I'm pretty sure I saw on The Wire.

Cure for what ails me

I decided to take notes to document the effects of Chaser prior to, during, and after imbibing alcoholic beverages. Turns out I'm a pretty spotty journalist with beer in my hand, and most of what I wrote was not very interesting. Either way, here it is, with only the slightest editorial modifications:


So L had a brilliant idea for a reason to have 40 ounce beverages and pizza. She called it a 4-4-4-40 party. I call it a pretty fantastic caloric intake. For whatever reason, the anticipated personnel flaked out and resulted in only two test subjects. I welcome a challenge, so at the crack of 3:30pm, we started experimenting.

3:30 Two chaser tablets each prior to consuming beverages, and if the pills were any bigger I'd have had to chew them. They were approximately the size of my fist. Schlitz for me, delicious Carling Canada (aka generic Molson) for L.

L is trying to watch something like American's Next Top Model or something, so I'm going to try and bang out my taxes. This has success written all over it.

3:38 Taxes are fucking hard. Screw this. Note to self: Don't make a tax return so complicated that 'TaxCut' won't support the forms I need to file my state returns. I'd make those states come after me for their money if I hadn't already given it to them. Plus, my old return is on the computer/TV and that's all they way in the other room, like 8 feet away.

4:28 Schiltz = nectar of the gods. Or at least nectar of 20 something losers wasting their Saturday afternoon. How this gem escaped my attention for so long, I don't know. I mean, how many times did my grandfather have to tell me about it before I listened? Something to be said for age and experience. L's brew, Carling Canada Black Label, is also very good. Turns out I have a remarkable palette for beers under 5 cents an ounce. Who knew.

5:11 King Cobra!!

5:13 Turns out King Cobra is awesome too. I hope none of these fantastic fermentations result in diarrhea. The inevitable beer farts I can live with.

5:31 I just made a salad for dinner to complement the pizza. No more knives for me!

5:33 I just tried to unscrew a cap that wasn't on the bottle. OK!

5:51 L just told me she likes me more when I'm drunk. I'm pretty sure that's not what my AA sponsor wanted her to say.

7:13 A little break for some pizza and salad, and now a decision to make. Steel Reserve (old friend) or Busch?

Let's compare and contrast:

Steel Reserve:
-taste not a priority
-higher degree of drunkenness (comparable to degree of difficulty in less manly endeavors, like diving)
-maybe vomit

Busch
-heavenly taste
-will maintain, but not increase my drunken state
-probably no vomiting
-more womanly


It's time to separate the wheat from the chaff. Come here, old friend.



I think it's time to separate the wheat from the chaff.
Come here, old friend.

7:24 Steel Reserve is still ass-tastic. L has switched to vodka and diet Pepsi. That's one of the big reasons her career has a lot more promise than mine. It's also one of the reasons her liver has a lot more promise than mine.

Editorial sidebar: One of these days I need to test if the 'process' for making SR is just dumping crappy vodka into a normal beer. Maybe next weekend we'll do a taste test.

7:23 Second dose of Chaser, two more pills. Supposed to be every 3 hours or 3-4 drinks. Guess we're not going to be able to take the full dose if this goes on too long.

7:26 Just tried to unscrew a cap that was no longer on the bottle (2nd instance). I guess driving's out of the question now.

8:01 SR is a lot stronger than the others. Very drunk. Motor functions deteriorating (along with handwriting). Also, I'm pretty sure I'm gay now, thanks to a marathon of America's Next Top Model.

8:18 Feeling very tired. I have no idea where this came from.

8:52 What's with the 211 sign? I'll tell you:

Yep, that's about as well as I can read it at this point, too. Note to self - 9pm much too early to be this drunk, and be this old. Also note: Scrubs is awesome. Someone compile me the soundtrack. How come JD can get a crazy fast piggy back ride from Elliot, but my friend K can't take me more than two feet before blowing out her pathetic knee? I think TV might be made up.

9pm on - What follows is a very hazy fade to black. From the documented records (my retarded note sheet) it seems that we went to bed sometime around 11 pm, just before we should have taken another dose of Chaser and maybe taken shoes off before getting in bed.


AFTERMATH:

Wake up surprisingly early (around 8am) which isn't all that incredible given the early bedtime. What is unusual is my minimal nausea or cottonmouth, and surprising appetite and will to live. I'm not ready to say that Chaser doesn't work - there's some kind of placebo effect going on, at least. I don't much feel like going for a run or anything, but there's noticeable improvement.

The outlier in the data set is L, who feels just as crappy as usual. Although maybe she just palmed her pills. I wasn't watching that closely.

I guess the only conclusion I can draw is that I'm not sure it doesn't work, but I'm not sure it does work. Wow, way to take a stand on the issue, huh?

I plan on taking the last two pills whenever the urge strikes next weekend, I'll have to see if just one dose is enough to stave off my inevitable hangover.

Thanks for reading.

I'll try this instead of intentionally vomiting

As I consider myself a scientist at heart, I've decided to do a little experiment on the effectiveness of this little guy:


This site seems fairly optimistic. I will be, too. I think I'll make L try it with me, and as a hangover inducer - none other than our friend Steel Reserve. Since the chosen beverage of the evening will be 40 oz bottles, I shall have no choice but to unleash the worst invention of all time:
Pretty excited to mention my photo shows up on the first page of google images when you search for "Steel Reserve". All that hard work, finally pays off. Keep clicking so it stays there. It's all I've got. That and this delicious beverage.

I'll keep you posted for the review.

Voting? Then you should have all the facts.

(Edited to allow readers to get joke)

Judging from the expansive reader base I have here, I'm sure there are some of you in Oregon, Montana, South Dakota, Indiana, West Virginia, Kentucky, or North Carolina that have not yet cast your ballots in the Democratic primaries, caucuses, show of hands or game of gin that will decide who runs in the general election. I ignore the Republican side of things because they've managed to nominate a candidate and not cannibalize their party in the process.

Anyway, lots of things have come to light lately, what with Hillary having erroneous PTSD flashbacks of Bosnia, or Barack's involvement with a former member of the Weatherman's Underground.

Really, though, the important thing is to remember that there is truth in music. And it just so happens that Obama's got a slight lead in that department, thanks to the good folks FMB.



I think your choice just got easier.

(link credit due to dudes at uhh yeah dude, an incredibly entertaining podcast for no reason at all. Available at iTunes or your local podcast directory.)