That pretty much sums up Day 1 of Chris' farewell weekend. He's moving to Japan for a year (at least, anyway) so he's entitled to a decent send off.
Tonight he had his heart set on joining the Guinness club. For anyone who doesn't know, to join the club you need to drink 8 pints in one sitting and Chris weighs roughly 90 lbs. I knew from the get go it was going to be a messy night.
He handled the first few pretty well, but half way through number 4, things started to get ugly. He debuted his drunk face and started to worry that he would fail in his second attempt to join the club. But our mighty Chris pressed on.
Some memorable quotes from the evening...
Chris: I can't smile on command.
Jo: You can't smile like a man?
Chris: On command!
Jo: A man?
Scott: Did you puke?
Chris: (very matter-of-factly) Yes.
Chris: It's the awkward turtle. He's know all over the place. Like, far away. Like, Ontario and Wisconsin and California.
There was also a guy working at the bar with the worst hair EVER. It was so bad I was actually hoping it was a wig he put on as a joke.
It was like some kind of nasty, rat-nest, badly streaked, back combed, just got out of bed, someone puked in my hair, mullet from hell. I actually laughed out loud when I saw it. I wouldn't make fun if he just had hair that was hard to style or something, but this was clearly intentional. Kyle and I tried to point the guy out to Chris when he asked why we were laughing, but he totally missed him. Kyle made the mistake of asking him if he knew the mullet man. Chris took the opportunity to sing 10 minutes of a garbled half made up version of Do you know the Mullet Man? It was lovely.
When he finished with his tune, he looked up just in time to see the guy we had been trying to point out.
"Hey! That guy has a mullet!"
He also managed to slosh a bit of beer on the table, wipe it up with a napkin and then couldn't figure out where the beer soaked napkin came from. When I reminded him about the spilt beer he called me a liar and swore that he never spilled a drop. Just for that, me and Kyle spent the rest of the evening screwing with his head (emptying and refilling his water glass at random, making up times when he'd ask what time it was, etc.). It was fairly juvenile, I admit, but we were the only two not drunk ones there.
But I digress. Chris went on to finish off his 8th pint, puking several times and making a mad, wobbly dash to the can, hand clamped over mouth, and puked one final time before the bouncer asked us nicely to leave.
I then led a seriously weaving Chris back to the car and gave him one puke-free ride home, during which he told me no less that 5 times how happy he was to have made it through all 8 pints.
So way to go dude, way to go.