March 8, 2011

charlie sheen tuesday

PWeekly contributors reflect on some of their personal Sheentastic moments. Winning!

Robo: I have never “made it” with a hooker or burdened myself with a serious drug problem, but I have certainly done a lifetime’s worth of dumb shit while under the influence of alcohol. In honor of the late, great Charlie Sheen, we, the contributors to Sacramento’s Best Blog (as voted on by the readership of SN&R) have been asked to summarize some of our Sheen-like episodes. I started to write mine down and after a few attempts to put something together, I realized that I couldn’t pick just one. Here are a few very brief descriptions of some of my more undignified moments.

(Author’s note: the following incidents took place long before I met Mrs. Robinson. All names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

After too many tequila shots and tall glasses of shut the hell up, I was awakened at 3 a.m. on the church steps at K and 26th Streets by a homeless man asking me for a cigarette. He must have known I smoked because of the pack of cigarettes lying in my puke. Later, my friend Tamille would tell me I left Snarlow’s around midnight which means I had been “resting” there for a solid three hours. Whoops!

My freshmen year of college I decided to pledge a fraternal organization. At one of the parties some of the guys thought it would be fun to force feed me hard alcohol via sorority chicks. I enacted my revenge by wetting their futon later that night. Suckers!

The first time I had a Red Bull and vodka was in South Lake Tahoe and I had fifteen of them. I stayed up for almost two days and was kicked out of two different casinos and a hotel. The reasons I was asked to leave vary from trying to throw champagne bottles off of a balcony into Lake Tahoe (which was about 100 yards away) and “accidently” going back to the same bar several times despite having been cut off hours before. I finally fell asleep in a closet around 9 p.m. on New Year’s Eve despite 100 people and a DJ in the cabin. Hey now!

After a fight with a girlfriend and ensuing drunken conversation with my friend Patt Lauer, I bought a 12-pack and went to San Diego…from Sacramento…at midnight…on a Thursday…and I was driving. This was one of the worst decisions I have ever made in my entire life. Do you know what it is like sitting in LA morning traffic, on no sleep, your voice hurting from singing to yourself, hung over and still drunk at the same time, regretting every decision you’ve made, having gone too far to turn back? I sure as hell do and you bet your ass Charlie Sheen did too. Winning!

Rachel in the Know: “Sheening” is not a new concept. In fact, I’ve been hitting the Charlie Sheen hard since College. It’s no secret that anyone who tries “Charlie Sheen” once will die. Well, I must have tiger blood running through my veins, because my partying ways make his recent 36-hour binge with porn stars and crack rock look like a trip to the ghetto Chuck E Cheese in Roseville.

I started taking Charlie Sheen within months of living in Tempe. Much like Charlie, my days consisted of wild benders filled with liquor, cigarettes, porn stars and illicit drugs. Except instead of porn stars, I entertained hairy, fat, Jewish fraternity pledges from AEPi and I was poor as shit.

My friend George (not her real name) and I had been raging for a solid 21 days straight. Everything from day drinking to wandering the streets of Mill Avenue at 3AM to stealing shit from Safeway – we were doing. We would start pounding beers from the moment we woke up and hang by the pool until the sun went down. Since we weren’t 21 (no coincidence to the days of bingeing) yet at night, we’d break out the hard stuff and hit up frat parties and other horrifically sad dorm parties until we went to bed. And by went to bed, I mean, fell into a coma.

During the 21 days I continued to go on with my life and attend classes. In fact, I had to because I had finals. Before my HST 321 final, I took a beer bong of Corona and came out with an A-. One could say that I was winning. So why stop then? Clearly my life was on the up and up so I decided to go even harder. Frankly, my tolerance had skyrocketed and I began to feel like pounding a 30-pack by noon was status quo. Unfortunately, George had already headed home for the summer so I was left to Sheen on my own.

So on the 21st day I decided to take my winning self and a bottle of Bacardi O and Sunny D over to my other friend’s house. No fucking lie, within 20 minutes my friend and I consumed the entire bottle of Bacardi O and were feigning for more. My friend’s older brother said he would go out and get us some more but we knew that would take too long and we would be in full relapse by then. In the meantime, we discovered some bunk ass Boone’s Farm in the fridge and pounded two bottles of that. By the time my friend’s brother got home, we were comatose but still wanted to party. We snatched the bottle of O and had the bright idea to walk 2 miles to “The Villages,” which is a huge apartment complex full of college students. There, we attempted to play a round of strip poker though we had no cards. It was a hot mess to say the least that ended with me hooking up with this guy I had class with in his room. I knew if I passed out in his bed, I’d be raped repeatedly throughout the night and I just couldn’t see that working so I called my sister to come pick me up. The story, as told by her the next morning, is not cute. I spent the night hugging the toilet, dropping saltines into it and thinking I was throwing up squares. I thought for sure I was dying and decided to take a few days off.

After intense fact gathering from this 21 day ordeal I realized that the problem was clearly the Sunny D. I was completely winning until I injected that fake OJ shit into my body. But the next day, I blinked and cured my brain and now once again, I’m winning.

Luke on Life: You notice how on good camping tents the bottom is usually made of a waterproof canvas type material? They stand up to shoes and dogs and what not. They're made that way to keep water out. The water from the outside. They're not made so that you wake up kiddy pool, wading in two inches of your own urine. I now call that the "Sheen-camp-method." Waking up wet ain't fun. Winning? Nope. Sheen camp night: 1; Luke: 0.

You ever flown to Jamaica for a wedding and woke up face down on the floor of a bathroom in Cuba? I have. Sheen nights: 2; Luke (still) zero.

PWeekly: Fuck Sangria. Or at least fuck the two pitchers I consumed in San Francisco at Cha Cha Cha’s. Said sangria flowed down my hatch after a day spent consuming 7 and 7’s at Lefty O’Douls and eating copious amounts of weird Spanish shit like “jamon.”

Upon leaving Cha Cha Cha's – where, like a true champion, I turned their men's restroom into a red sea of vomit – I’d:


Discover my car had been towed from the nearby grocery store lot I had illegally parked in, demand my cab driver pull over so I could puke inside a gas station where I’d lose my license, begin crying over the loss of said license, have license returned to me by a police officer who witnessed me puking, have my card declined at the impound lot due to my excessive Diesel jeans purchase earlier in the day, require a buddy to front the 300 dollar impound fee, simultaneously shit and puke on the side of Hercules mountain, lose my favorite track jacket in what is now referred to as the “wiping incident of 2005,” demand we pull over and stay in a crack-whore motel for which my aforementioned buddy would have to pay, wake up the next morning in a bathtub, puke into my own hair driving home.

Later that next day I’d dominate a sixer of Corona Light’s at Vientos. Winning!

14 comments:

Anonymous said...

YES! YES! YES!

Jeff said...

This is amazing.

Vicki said...

God. The "burn out" look is totally the same today.

Vicki said...

Hercules! Hercules! A true classic tale.

luke said...

is mine too long?

rachel in the know said...

your penis sure isn't.

rachel in the know said...

PS- was robo a contributing writer when we won the award?

Anonymous said...

"ps" ?

Matt said...

No I was not. Your point?

Anonymous said...

This article is really well done. Nice work. Laughed my ass off.

P.S. This chat room is toooooo cute.

Anonymous said...

i think rachel was thinking that this statement "we, the contributors to Sacramento’s Best Blog (as voted on by the readership of SN&R)" would make it seem that "robo" was a winner of an award.

right rachel?

luke said...

cool team cohesion guys. btw i once sat hammered at a charity bikini car wash and payed some slut 20 bucks to wash robo. she obliged but made him strip down to his boxers. sheening.

Matt said...

@ Anonymous - Pweeklyt is currently Sacramento's best blog. I am a contributor to the blog. Not once did I say I won any awards. Also, posting anonymous is for pedophiles and people that still use AOL. Grow a pair.

@ Luke - And then I went to a birthday party still wet.

Becky said...

I am in love with all of this.