Cinco (y Seis) de Mayo

Ah, Graduation.















A time honored tradition that I look forward to every spring. Not because I am a well-wisher to all of the out-going graduates, but because it’s a great freakin’ time to get absolutely hammered for several days in a row.

This year’s Commencement had an even more special quality to it: the Friday night before (already held in high regard as a good drinking night), was Cinco de Mayo. Cinco de Mayo; or as I call it, “Drinko de Mayo”, is the Mexican equivalent of St. Patrick’s Day. You know, everyone’s a little bit Mexican on that day, so you should celebrate Mexican Independence or whatever the hell that day is for.






















Cinco. Freakin’. De Mayo.

Anyways, back to the weekend. I have 2 prime drinking days and nights lined up. This is the type of weekend that is ranked right up there with Homecoming and Halloween for it’s boozing effectiveness. So I’m ready to get my drink on.

There’s just one problem.

Somebody was still playing with their Derek voodoo doll that had me doing the Technicolor Yawn all night Monday night. That’s right, I’m still sick.

But I tried to make a go of it anyways Friday night. I went up to The Hat and ordered a much-needed big beer and some chicken fajita nachos. Let me tell you that never, and I mean never, have I let a big beer get warm on me before. Those suckers are usually gone before the mug gets defrosted. But not this time. I worked on that bitch the whole time I was there. And it just about killed me. So I went home and figured that all I needed was a little cat nap to recuperate before I headed out to celebrate my Mexican heritage, drink a crap-load of cervezas, and curse at people in broken Spanish. Good plan, right?

I went to bed at 7:16pm. I didn’t get out of bed again until 7:30 the next morning for Graduation. Oh, people called and texted all right, but I either ignored them or told them I felt like Santa Anna had stormed my digestive tract.

Moving on to the next day. If I could salvage Saturday, the weekend would still be a moderate success.

Graduation goes off with out a hitch (I guess). People cry, people laugh, people yell “Sucka!” when someone walks across the stage. It’s a magical time.

Commencement is over and the potential for free food is put on the table. I start wondering if having BBQ is smart move when I’m having stomach problems akin to an alien baby squirming around in my gut. I say fuck it because I’ve never eaten at the place we’re gonna go. Turns out the food is free and also great (thanks, Mr. Oppy).

I’ll skip the rest of the day in order to get to the “The More You Know” section of the post:
Never eat BBQ when you are, may be, or have recently been sick. It will not end well. Will. Not.

I’ll also spare you the end of my Saturday night, as no one should ever have to experience that kind of thing; be it first, second or any kind of hand.

Sunday was fine. Felt good. Stuck to raisin bran, bananas and water the whole day. Now I’m good to go. I hope. Fucking voodoo dolls…

So that was my glorious weekend of drinking: 1 freakin’ big beer. This Cinco de Mayo has officially been renamed “Suck-o de Mayo”. So, congratulations to all you new graduates. Welcome to the real world. Now get a job, you sorry drunken bastards!

D