I've made a couple of more trips to Durham since I last wrote here. Thursday night's crowd at The Knot was a bit light, but that's understandable, given that UNH was rolling into its fall break. I took another ride out there on Friday, simply to chill out; that campus is, figuratively, as far away from the military as I can get in the Seacoast area. One unexpected thing I noticed was an abundance of Ron Paul chalkings. I haven't yet been able to find the person(s) responsible, but I'd be very interested to meet them.
Shortly after I finished rolling the Minivan o' War back to Portsmouth, I rolled myself into the alcohol - to a much greater extent than I intended. Three weeks ago, I told you the story of eight Sailors trying (and failing) to party hard with the Wildcat student body. The end result of this was that much of the beer we'd purchased ended up back at my apartment. Since that fateful night, I've been steadily working through the forty Bud Lights, and I'd whittled the stash down to seventeen by early Friday evening. I had no plan whatsoever to clean out the fridge of beer, but I very nearly did so. When I awoke to my alarm at 0700 yesterday morning, I discovered a beer sitting on my desk; only a couple of sips had been taken. A look at the blue sticky sitting next to the beer showed me that the open Bud Light was the fifteenth bottle I'd opened. In about six hours, I drank twelve fluid ounces...times fourteen. I arose Saturday morning with only a moderate hangover, which was a bit surprising given the fact that all the alcohol stayed down...or did it? This morning, I noticed some small orange spots on the inside of my toilet. This is possible evidence of vomiting, but I'm employing the "alcohol loophole": since I don't remember, and there were no witnesses, it didn't happen. :-) The lack of significant tasking on Saturday also played in my favor - it meant more time to rest and counter the effects of the poison to which I had subjected my body.
At some point during Friday night - I think I was merely two sheets to the wind, but of course, I can't be certain - I was trying to unearth the source of all those Ron Paul chalkings on the UNH campus. In the course of doing so, I stumbled upon Liv Films. The Miracle Beer Diet short is effing hilarious. Other reasons why Liv rocks the party...any party: she's Ron Paul Girl, she lists Chelsea Handler as her hero on her MySpace page, and - if you've already gone to her blog, you know this well - she's gorgeous and scantily clad in many of her videos. That's a winning combination if there ever was one.
Other than the two remaining Bud Lights in my refrigerator, I have no intention of drinking any more beer prior to going on leave on Thursday. But that didn't stop me from purchasing all of the desired festive beverages for that week: twenty-four Michelob for my Dad, twenty-four Smithwick's for my brother, and twenty-four Samuel Adams Boston Lagers for Grand Bonecoming. The liver most definitely needs some rest, as I'll be putting it to full use on Friday night. I'm especially looking forward to taking on Sayward heads-up in OFIGTK - Jacob, if you're reading this, it is on.