From the mind of Tom Beland

Creator of True Story Swear to God

Sunday, January 13, 2008

MY BROTHER JOE HAS ARRIVED... I'M SIX FUCKING YEARS OLD AGAIN


So my little brother, my Kemo Sabe, my Jimeny Crickett, my Chewbecca, my... well.. my everything has arrived in Puerto Rico, with his girlfriend, Monica.

They're here for ten days, without children, so on this, his first night, we made the most of it and got shit-ass drunk.

Yep. And let me tell you all something... wanna know a cheap way to get your best friend wasted on little money, or alcohol...? Simple. You have them fly eleven fucking hours in a plane, without sleeping, let them have a short three-hour nap and then wake them up and stuff them with rum, red wine and tequila shots (which I'm SURE is going to fuck me over in the morning).

We visited our friends' home down the street for a small get-together and, sure enough, Frankie had a fully-stocked bar waiting for us.

Glass of red wine to start things off..? Sure. Let's do this.

Hey Monica...! Join me in a rum and coke..? Yeah..? Great! Let's have four more.

TEQUILLA SHOTS??? YOU HAVE TO ASK???!!! LET'S DO THREE BIG ONES!!!

Somehow we all staggered home, Lily passed out upstairs and my brother passed out with his gal in air-conditioned bliss. That's how we ended the evening. It's now 1:42am and I'm awake still and talking to you all.

I love my brother. Seriously, he's the greatest.

We both got through mom and dad together. By the time mom was gone, our three older brothers were out of the house and far from home. Joe and I had to live there all the way to the end. It was horrific and I wouldn't wish that time on my worst enemy.

We were goofballs. To this day, we love to make poo jokes or titty comments.

We're the two musketeers. When we lived together, I was working at the local newspaper in Napa and one of the editors had showed a horrible lapse of judgement by giving me two passes to a tequilla tasting event. I could take anyone with me and all I had to do was write a small blurb about it for the paper.

So, in an even WORSE lapse of judgement, I invited Joe to go with me. I told him that he had to be cool and remember we were representing the newspaper and had to be professional.

TWELVE tequilla shots later, we were both fucking SMASHED and we kept telling the expert "I still can't taste the boisenberries in this" to get him to refill our glasses. We were laughing something stupid and I think I may have sang "Somewhere in the Night" by Barry Manilow.

We took a cab home and were fucking LAUGHING our asses off and then went to our rooms and passed out. No hangover whatsoever the next day. That's what partying with my brother is like.

So, after gallons of alcohol, I'm downstairs with Iron Chef in the background, as I relish this time with my brother. He's the coolest guy in the world and we're together for the next ten days.

Man, life is good.

2 comments:

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moviegirl78 said...

*wonders how your head is now that you've slept*

I hope no garbage collectors came by early the next day. Man those things can haunt he-who-suffers-from-bad-hangover, being so noisy and what-not.

We expect a full report after they leave! (as there's no way you're going to have time to post to us whilst they're still there - too much fun to be had!)