I’m not gonna lie. This weekend is going to be pretty radical. It’s probably end up being way more radical than yours. I’ve got so many great things lined up, so many great activities, that there’s just no way this weekend can suck. Just no way.
It’s all gonna start tonight when a bunch of friends and I are going to go bar hopping downtown. We’re gonna get some drinks, maybe get a few phone numbers, meet some new people. Then, after that, we’re going to head down to the pool hall and shoot some pool with some cool cats that we haven’t hung out with since high school. And then, after that, I’m going to race back home and unplug my mom from her respirator, because that mysterious illness she picked up after her trip to the Amazon is eating away at her organs and slowly, one-by-one, turning each in to goo.
But after that it’s back to more partying! On Saturday, my buddies and I are going to this totally sweet classic car show. We’re going to hang with some cool bikers that come to the show every year, and then we’re going to try to hook up with some of the fine bikini-clad car models. But I won’t be able to stay too long, because I have to be at the hospital by 6 PM to sign the adoption wavers for that kid I fathered. I can’t be a dad. I can’t waste my time raising a child! Not this weekend, at least! No, this weekend is all about partying, having a good time, and forgetting about internally liquefied mother, my 2-legged diabetic cat named Speedster, and the child that will never know its father.
After the adoption thing, I’m going to immediately head over to the entertainment district and party it up in some clubs with my homies. A friend of mine rented out one of the hottest clubs in the city and is throwing a huge end-of-the-week bash; so I’ll be partying there until the break of dawn…at which point I will have to leave to have my portable colostomy bag drained of its contents. I can totally party with 87% of my intestines being completely dead and useless, but a bro can’t party hard with an overstuffed bag of his own waste strapped to his thigh! Especially since my bros and I are going to be doing a little kick boxing in the park on Sunday afternoon. I don’t want to get kicked and have a water balloon of partially digested food explode everywhere. That would totally kill our collective buzzes. I’ve learned my colostomy bag lessons after that trip to the water park a few months ago. You really make an impact when you shoot out of the bottom of those massive waterslides.
My totally amazing weekend won’t stop there, though! After we kick box, I’m going to go home, open a nice bottle of wine, and listen to every one of the 17 messages left on my cell phone by my lawyer advising me to return to the states, because apparently leaving the country when you’re due in court over some bogus vehicular manslaughter charge is some kind of federal offense.
My message to him is: Cool it, law man! I’m enjoying myself with my buddies this weekend! And this weekend isn’t going to stop there! Come Monday, I’m going to see if my friends and I can high-tail it to a country with really strict extradition laws. The coppers already found out about my vehicular homicide, and it’ll only be a matter of time before they find out the hostages and the anthrax I left all over that school.
Man, this weekend if going to be the tits!