The Trifecta

Glasses? Check.
Wallet? Check.
Phone? Check.
Hangover? Check, check and check.

This is how my morning began. Waking up on a couch unsure when you got there is usually an indicator that you had fun last night and that you're bound to feel like shit for the next few hours (at least).

Growing up as an adolescent my best friend introduced me to a child hood friend of his that had moved away when we were younger. All three of us eventually became about as close of friends as I feel comfortable with without removing any clothing. Here we are 13 years later and I still consider these two jabroni's my best wingmen.

Unfortunately D-bag #1 moved 9 hours away to Idaho so in order to see him we had to put a road trip in. Getting on the road as early as we could Kenny and I made decent time when treking across three states en route for an evening of watching Ninja Assassins and eating cold pizza. Actually though, I haven't laughed as hard as I did that night in a LONG time.

Night number two comes around and Willy somehow convinces two 29 year old guys that a house party with people he doesn't really know is an acceptable plan. Upon arrival, it was the exact kind of party I'd like to attend... If I knew the host. Live band, swimming pool, lots of food and drinks and friendly people. However it felt alot like I crashed a family reunion. Upon getting introduced to various people I found out that everyone was related to someone in one way or another at this party. If you weren't the brother, you were the brother-in-law. If you weren't the brother-in-law, you were the mechanic that fixed daddy's car for 20 years. In any case, the people were friendly as hell but I felt out of place like porno in the cartoon section of the movie store... Then again I suppose there are cartoon porns.

In any case we end up at Cowgirls later in the night. Complete with a roach coach out front (which I definitely utilized, I just don't remember what I ate). A few shots and crown on the rocks later and the night has begun. Honestly I'm not much for dancing but get me a comfortable seat, a witty friend and I can simply people watch for an entire evening. The night is cracking, people filed in like it was the only club in the area (which I'm guessing is not far off).

The DJ announced for the girls to get up on the bar for a little dancing and leading the pack was a woman that likely played D-Line for Boise State at one point. If you've ever been to Cowgirls you know that girls get up on stage and dance to some songs a few times per evening; And above the bar is a long pipe or bar with ropes to hang on to as you dance so you don't eat it. Well this lady got into position and was hanging on that rope so heavily that the bar started to move a little. I see the bartender tap his buddy on the shoulder and for a few moments they stay near this lady as if to be unofficial spotters incase that support bar is not up to code. Although, you're looking for trouble if two skinny dudes with feaux-hawks are the only thing between her and the floor. No deaths occurred, not even an interesting mis-step, but being from Seattle, it occurred to me that only in a city like Nampa, Idaho would you find a proud Girlcow shaking what the good lord gave her.

The night continued on drinking and bs'ing with random people, ending with the lights getting turned on to usher people out the door and Kenny and I stand there scoping the club to ask eachother "where the fuck is Willy?"... Well, the kid I've never seen two step to his favorite songs was out on the dance floor looking like Antonio Banderas teaching a salsa class to a shoe-less volunteer.

Needless to say there was one more person in the vehicle as we made our exit. Truthfully that was about when my memory of the evening faded away. I remember raining 3's from the couch into the Little Tykes hoop in the living room and wondering if the Sock Bandit would strike later that evening... But my recollection of anything at that point is reserved for the quiet that filled the room as she made the Walk of Shame. The Sock Bandit struck again.

But here it is about noon Mountain Time and my hangover is a little subdued and I'm ready to start the day. I'd drive 9 hours for a weekend like this anytime. I just might slow my alcohol consumption down...