The weekend was

The weekend was pretty rad, yo. We kicked it out hardcore on Friday like a mother, partying it up with the brothers Polk, Brandon, Captain Jim, and Planet Schwa. I was broke as a joke, so Bryan J. played my sugar daddy, jumping in with some cash for me and my tenderloin.

Saturday was enough fun for 2 days worth of good times. Fabish, Amy and I arrived at Katie's wedding just in time to not go to the wedding at all, but instead go to the rehearsal for free food and free drinks. And I drank. And I drank. And I drank. And I dr... okay, long story short, I got fucked up. But I wasn't insane drunk whore drunk, just cool funny Tim drunk who was able to make friends with complete strangers by mocking Catholicism and pissing on trees. At around midnight, Fabish and I decided we were bored with the whole wedding nonsense and went and "rented" a golf cart (by rent, I mean stole from the golf course) and tried to do burn outs. This proved remarkably hard, even as we tried to decrease the weight and, later, lean on the front of the car hoping to lift the back tires enough for them to spin. That didn't work either. Eventually we had to drive it into a sand trap for the tires to actually start spinning.

On the ride home I was acting completely smashed, as I'm prone to do when I'm completely smashed, playing with all the gizmos that Alan has available in his car. Worried that I'd break them, he'd keep taking his eyes off the road to grab the aforementioned gizmos and swerve a little bit. And, you guessed it, we were pulled over by the 5-0 for driving eradically. I'm guessing they were watching all the drunk asses drive away from the wedding and pulled over anyone who looked slightly drunk, but the jokes on them since Alan was at work and hadn't had a drop of alcohol. Feeling a bit overconfident that the cops had nothing on us, when the cop told Alan he was driving eradically, I proceeded to yell out "I think you mean erectionally!", then pretended like I grabbed Alan's schlong and was driving with it. The car was silent, assuming I had just gotten all of us arrested, but the cop laughed it off and let us go once we convinced him that Alan was sober and merely tending to the drunk guy next to him.

On the way home, Angie wanted to stop for cigarettes, so we all pulled into the gas station. I felt a bit sick to my stomach, so I got out of the car, calmly walked over to the ice machine, and proceeded to puke more than I've ever puked right on all the ice bags. It was quite a sight to see, I'll tell you what. The people at the pumps were mortified, but I was laughing. We got out of the gas station as quickly as we possibly could.

Sunday was much less eventful. I spent the day tending to my horrible hang over and dry heaving. And that was my weekend.

PS - most of the events I referred to on Saturday night were completely made up. I'll let you decide which were real and which weren't.