Messenger Race Wed. May 31st

Come one come all, Wednesday at 5:30 PM. Starting line is on the Francis Quadrangle by the Columns. Entry fee is $5, there will be a payout (I think to the top 3). The race will be a checkpoint style race. Expect between 1 and 2 hours of balls out, traffic dodging messenger craziness. If you don't want to race, but want to be a part of the ordeal. please contact greggles about manning a checkpoint. One more thing, I'm going to win, you can't stop me. If you think you can, come try.

Yeah, I haven't been keeping up with the blog lately. Here's the deal, I have been drinking a lot, and sleeping late as well. Well that's all relative, I'm not drinking as much as I was last summer. Last summer was the first time I have ever been without responsibility and with a nearly limitless supply of cheap alcohol. Last summer the basic itinerary was as follows:
-Sleep until noonish
-Maybe ride bikes (since you woke up at noon that means fighting the afternoon sun, this lead to many days indoors thinking about biking)
-After sunset, ride bikes to Mojo's
- Try like hell to finish off an old keg with Greg (we rarely succeeded, usually just got wasted)
- Race bikes home around 2 AM

Piloting a bicycle late at night is much less threatening to others than driving a car.
Legally you can get a DWI on a bike, but cops really don't give them out (in CoMO). I guess they figure if you will just hurt yourself and not kill anyone else. I know people in CoMO have gotten them, but it usually involved something else. Drunk Brady racing home against drunk Greg is a good match. We both go for blood, I often go for blood and finesse. I take "shortcuts" that often get me lost in the woods on a fixed gear with only the light of the moon to guide me. It's about 1.5 miles from Mojo's to our house. Greg often beat me my 5 or 10 minutes due to the efficiency of my "shortcuts." I think the moral of the story is, if you are ever riding bikes with me drunk, follow someone else if at all possible. Oh, and I think the other moral of the story is: it's probably not good to have a BAC over . 2 and push your heart rate past 180 (Pam, any studies?).

This summer Greg and I have moved one step up in the caste system. We have graduated from old draft beers to fru-fru pansy drinks that taste like an orgasm in your mouth (without the messiness that accompanies most orgasms). On the left is Greg drinking a Pina Colada from a hurricane glass rimmed with mango sugar (no plastic cups in this house!). It's about 1 in the afternoon. What's that? Why, yes... yes that is a tiny umbrella in his drink. I keep a couple hundred stockpiled behind our bar (our bar deserves it's own post, it is a tropy for our college lives). I bought a Sangria set at Kohl's ( yes, I went to Kohl's for a Sangria set, but I also shopped for big knives so can it) so I have added Sangria to my list of fru-fru pansy drinks. The list now includes, but is not limited to:
- Strawberry daiquiris
- Pina Coladas
- Red or white wine sangrias
- Keystone ICE*

* does not come with umbrella

Last week Greg and I went down to a friend's friend's condo at Lake of the Ozarks. We drank lots of fru-fru drinks and got burnt swimming drunk. I think I am finally settling into summer. Someone made a comment about how much it sucks being almost old enough to have real money and own our own lake houses and such. Greg and I rebutted that quite well. I believe Greg in blurted in typical zen master style, "whatever, it's Wednesday afternoon, I'm drinking pina coladas at somebody's condo who I don't even know." (the owner's daughter was at the table) I had some monologue shortly after about how we are all 21-23 years old and this is the age many people wish they were forever.

My closing thoughts: It's real good being 22. It's real good that it's summer. It's 3:52 in the AM and I need to get my ass to bed.