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Debauchery In Dallas!

By Alex On June 5, 2011 Under Alex's Training Journal

Wow, wow, wow.

Last couple weeks have been splacktacular for the most part..

Tell me something.. You know how every family has that one cousin in their family that’s just a little different than everyone else in the family? Like that one cousin you all love and laugh with, but you guys *maybe* make fun of this person sometimes for some of their more “different” qualities when they’re not around..

If you don’t have one of those cousins, definitely go out and get one of them for yourself, because they’re awesome. And if you do, you’ll really appreciate this story here..

Last weekend, I flew to Dallas from my place here in San Diego for a bachelor party. Now I have NEVER been to a bachelor party before, so I didn’t really know what to expect (I’ve certainly partied my fair share in my past and nothing should really surprise me I thought…of course I was wrong).

Interestingly enough, the bachelor in focus here doesn’t drink alcohol (sort of a smart life decision…take note, maybe..) so it turned out to be a pretty fun and normal weekend, save for the one fire-freezing moment that I just have to tell you about right now.

Friday night, in tow with a group of 17 handsome gentlemen and one groom-to-be, we decided we’d hit up the hottest bar scene in Dallas, but before we could, the grooms brother decided he had a surprise for us: sleeveless tuxedo t-shirts.

Awesome, I think. Just my style, chicks are always on the prowl for guys wearing cotton tuxedo. Lol.

So there we are, a giant group of guys all wearing CUTOFF tuxedo t-shirts walking into one of the hottest, busiest bars in downtown Dallas.

What’s The Worst That Could Happen?

Now at this celebration weekend was also my older brother and dad, people who I obviously love, but don’t get to see that often (since my parents still live back home in Michigan (sidebar: come to California, mom and dad!) and my bro lives in LA (I’m in San Diego)). And because they were there too, it meant we were all getting DOWN this weekend (translation: I don’t drink, they do, so they’re getting wild tonight, which I thought should be really interesting since I’ve never seen my dad under the influence and he’s normally very “in control” and laid-back).

As we walk in, I find the nearest waitress, shamelessly flirt with her for a second (“Your name is Sammy? If you’re anything like the one from the Jersey Shore, I’m totally gonna need a new waitress.”) and then taking a look around at our group and seeing 18 alpha-males (ok maybe 16, a couple were pretty quiet), I decide it’s time to get this party poppin’ and order 35 Vodka-Bombs for everybody.

Now, you may be too young to drink (which is fine, as I’ve stated throughout this story, drinking is not GOOD for you.. no, no, no… very, very bad), but the Vodka-Bomb has been passed down from generation to generation as a special, carefully crafted elixir for getting krunk and tonight would play out no different..

A few minutes later, the waitress comes back (I obviously subtly ignore her this time around) with 35 massive Vodka-Bomb shots.

There’s Just One Problem

Half the party just left the bar ’cause they were hungry.

Foolz.

So now we’re left with a million Vodka Bombs and 9 dudes (and since I don’t drink, that’s just 8 mouths to fill with happy poison)…so that’s exactly what we do: 4 shots per man, 5 for the real bosses up in here.

DISCLAIMER: Drinking is bad. Don’t do it. If you do, you’ll end up living in a Siberian cave. And Siberian caves are really boring and their Internet is slow.

So everyone takes their drinks and starts pounding away. It’s wild.

Lights are flashing.

Gas is smoking.

People are yelling, the music blasts away.

Chaos is in full effect. People are running around, screaming.. They’re crazed with rage and confusion. The onslaught of vodka-bombs seems to have created some alternate, chaotic bar-universe. I can’t tell.

Then suddenly.. the smoke clears. The music quiets and I can see what’s going on.

It’s then that I see “it”.

One vodka-bomb is left.. It sits there alone on the table, surrounded by formerly tough, strapping men, but this small elixir seems to have turned them into helpless sheep. No one wants to go anywhere near it, they’re done, their livers already working too hard for comfort.

But then, a man steps to the forefront and shows his pride for all to see.

He yanks the Vodka-Bomb, pulls it close to his parched lips and downs the happy poison.

Overcome with excitement, passion and a caffeine-infused buzz, this giant of a man thrusts his right fist into the air and exclaims, “Life is MY bitch!” as he slams the empty shot glass on the table.

That man was my dad.

That scene, I will never forget.

#truth

-Alex

PS – There’s one thing I left out of this story that I’ll share with you in the next journal. I’m also going to tell you about a new project I just finished that is absolute GOLD for making ANYONE explosive..not kidding.

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