Yes, I just threw up in my mouth. That was after reading my buddy, Mark's TMI about a drinking incident involving Copenhagen (not the one in Denmark - the one in his back pocket). Or was it a Copenhagen incident involving drinking? (Either way, my stomach is still turning as I hunt and peck here...)
Anyhow, his waaay TMI story reminded me that in my checkered and polka dot past, I have an alcohol-related chew story, too!
OK, so we went to this big fancy party - evening gowns, tuxes, blah, blah, blah - and afterward we go back to my buddy's house to consume yet more alcohol and attempt to play cards. We park ourselves around the kitchen table in all of our sparkling finery (Hell yeah, we're white trash! - well most of us are white), and he promptly pulls out his Cope. Or was it Skoal? Those were the dark ages, I can't recall... Anyway, so I'm watching him carefully place this wad in his lip and I'm thinkin' 'Wow, I've never tried THAT. I want some!' So I grab the can and ceremoniously reveal that I think I want to try it. Geez! Youda thunk I'd offered up the sacrificial virgin AND a Whopper. Lemme tell ya, he knocked over his chair, his beer AND his broken carburetor as he scrambled to get on his feet. Oh, he was all over that - "Somebody grab the camcorder!" he yells, then says to me, "Here, let me help you with some" as he cranks out my lower lip and stuffs a wad the size of Rhode Island in my totally virgin kisser.
Well, words cannot describe. I never even closed my mouth. Once that crap was in and I experienced the stunningly stunning smell, taste and feel of that nasty-gram in MY face, I leaned over the table, pulled my lip back out and watched as that s*** fell out in a series of slow motion 'plops' onto a new deck of cards and a stack of WHAM CDs.
I can remember screaming "Geh ih owwwt! Geh ih owwwt!" - no, my tongue would not go near it or even down the street from it.
(can't imagine what the neighbors concluded)
Of course I didn't remember the event the next day. There was no evidence of tobacco in my teeth (because back in the day, if I drank, I got bombed, I barfed. It was my standard M.O. - sorry if your shoes ever got in my way. For this reason I ALWAYS brushed my teeth before passing out.) And with no evidence or memory of performing the highlight event of the evening, I didn't believe them when they said I'd crossed over. So you can imagine my delight when the video tape surfaced. Oh, thank GOD for that. I'm pretty sure it was one of my buddy's proudest moments (guys, I was in sequins. Visualize.) He probably still has that tape.
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