unnecessaryz

Whoa! My eyes are bloodshot! Go fuckin' figure!

So my week did indeed end up being more awesome than a de-railed train jumping a pit full of giant flame throwing scorpions. But just like any stunt involving high-speed locomotives and fire, unexpected situations did arise.

- Laser tag night, which I redubbed Laser Mission 2: The Reckoning, starring me and the ghost of Brandon Lee, was pretty good. When we got there, they had just started a mission (seriously, they call each round "missions") and the next one didn't start for almost two hours. That left us with two options: stay there and play video games or leave for two hours while I stayed there and played video games. It was a tough choice, but in the end I think I made the right decision.
During our time there, I happened upon a test-your-strength machine with a boxing theme. Basically a speed-bag drops from an overhang on the booth, you hit it as hard you can, then you get rated based on a flabby game designer's notion of what power is. Apparently their notion of power, as I suspected, involves atrophied muscles because that shit retracted at the speed of light a millisecond after I made contact with it. The result was my savage blow continuing unimpeded past the empty space where the bag use to be and planting it neatly into the side of a nearby metal wall. I thought this might have a lasting effect on my trigger finger until I fucking smoked everyone during Laser Mission 2: The Reckoning, starring me and the ghost of Brandon Lee.

- SGNY open night was yet another triumphant chapter in the never-ending tale of my idiocy. Within five minutes of my arrival, I was able to make a mockery of the group's decision to use nametags, get slapped, and get dry humped. But if you were expecting any further details other than "got really drunk and fondled nearby tits", I'm just going to assume that you instinctively assumed the latter at first and decided to give me the benefit of the doubt. Happy to disappoint!

- The next morning proved to be a challenge, since I didn't walk through my own door until 4:30 in the morning and I had to be up and ready for a wedding by 9:00 am. If Sunday morning was God's way of telling me I'm weak and irresponsible, then too bad, fucker! I'm gonna do it again next week! Next time don't waste your precious magic on me! To make up for spending my day of rest at a fucking wedding, my girlfriend and I did our best to achieve the role of wedding sluts. You know who I'm talking about, too. Every wedding has an annoying couple that can't keep their hands off of each other until they eventually slip away to give each other head in some gazebo. Good thing we chose the one gazebo the bride and groom where going to use as a backdrop for some outdoor photos! I'd feel terrible if I actually got to finish...assholes.
I should note that this was my first Jewish wedding. I should also note that I was so far removed from anyone involved, that I thought it would be awesome to wear a yamika. I was one fine lookin' jew-boy. Too bad my only previous encounters with the chosen people were through Woody Allen movies. Everything worked out fine though, since it sounded exactly like a Woody Allen movie starring fifty Woody Allens.
As soon as I arrived at the wedding though, I immediately regreted not keeping my nametag from the night before...