Good morning friends,
I write you with a heavy heart my friends... as I am sad to tell you that, I'm getting old. Yes, old. You see I have often been suspicous of the fact, but have just ignored the signs. BUT on this sad morning, I was hit in the face with undenyable proof.
You see, it all started last night with me making the statement, "I think I'll go to bed now, because I want to go jog tomorrow" at 9 PM. Now, I certainly didn't see this as a need for alarm as I was: 1) a bit tired from being quite productive earlier in the day; and 2) just generaly bored as fuck. But then a rare occurance happend. At 3:30 I woke up... and couldn't go back to sleep. I tried, and even sometimes I could catch thrity minuets here or fifteen minutes there... but for the most part I was awake. Well, I knew that my mom had to wake up at six, so I decided to remain in bed until she got up. Why? Not because I was afraid to wake her up, or was waiting to ask her something before she scurried off to work... but because I refuse to get up on my "vacation" with nothing to do, EARLIER than the 49 year old woman who actually has to be at work. I got pride!
Finally, she wakes up and I dart out of bed. I grab my shoes, and I hit the road... because as much as I hate running, I determined to defend my youth. After my TRIUMPHANT run (casulties include: joints, muscules, feet, and a strange twitch), I decided that because I had absolutely nothing to do (and because my mom finally upgraded her cable) that I was going to do something that would definatly reclaim my glourious youth. I decided I was going to drink... LIKE A FUCKING CHAMPION! You see brothers and sisters, long ago there was a legend by the name of "K-ROCK". And he could drink. And he could party. And the very mere whisper of a party or an all night drinking binge was sure to summon his presence. And not just parties and large gatherings, but he even drank with you on an intimate level. Let's recall the hits:
"Congrats on your A in math... let's get wasted!"
"Say man, she ain't worth it... let's go get you a drink"
"Fuck Valentines Day! Who wants a buttery nipple"
The loveable, "WHO WANTS SHOTS!"
"Hey anyone wanna get bombed and watch all the Jay and Silent Bob movies" (thanks woody).
"Pourin' some out for my homies who ain't here... "
And of course the classic, "Did I just drink myself sober? I...I think I did. Crap, now I sober. I need a drink" (weep, for mardi gras and beerfest memories).
Yes friends, K-Rock was a party legend. And then the day came, when he said to one fellow party goer "I think that I'm going to stay in tonight... I've got to study." Before he knew it, he began to lose his youthful powers. He began to consume water, and juice. He started to read book... yes, books (even the ones without the pictures!). He slowly fell into the trap that is adulthood and lost joy of drunken youth.
Well today ladies and gents... I try to resurrect the spirit of K-Rock! I decided after my shower that I would relive an ancient tradition. See long ago, K-Rock shared a great manor in the region of Sherwood Forest in the land of Baton Rouge. In this manner he resided with three of the most notorious of drinkers: Clint "they got 99 cent tallboys" Gallo, Keegan "My taco, Bitch!" Roberts, and the youngest of them Kyle "twin chicks" Roberts. One day Kyle and K-Rock (more commonly known as "The Oreo Twins") woke up on an early morn, much like this one, and proclaimed, "I don't wanna go to class today... lets drink on the roof instead (warning: do not question the infinite wisdom of the great wise drunks.) So they set out to do so. At 8 AM they went to a grocery store and purchased multiple cases of fine beer (Red Dog, and High Life) and returned to sit on the roof top and bask in the zen of alcoholism. So today, I attempted an all day drinking fest. At around 8:45, I opened one. Now at 9:24 AM, it saddens me to tell you that I am still holding that beer (thank God for frosted mugs). Though I will try to fight this through my friends, I must say that the situation is quite grim.
Though I sit here, fighting the losing battle of aging... I ask that where ever you are (at 5:30, because I know your at work or still sleeping right now), that you pour a drink, crack open a cold one, and raise a bottle high in the memory of your youth. "LONG LIVE KROCK!"
Good day,
Kenneth
I write you with a heavy heart my friends... as I am sad to tell you that, I'm getting old. Yes, old. You see I have often been suspicous of the fact, but have just ignored the signs. BUT on this sad morning, I was hit in the face with undenyable proof.
You see, it all started last night with me making the statement, "I think I'll go to bed now, because I want to go jog tomorrow" at 9 PM. Now, I certainly didn't see this as a need for alarm as I was: 1) a bit tired from being quite productive earlier in the day; and 2) just generaly bored as fuck. But then a rare occurance happend. At 3:30 I woke up... and couldn't go back to sleep. I tried, and even sometimes I could catch thrity minuets here or fifteen minutes there... but for the most part I was awake. Well, I knew that my mom had to wake up at six, so I decided to remain in bed until she got up. Why? Not because I was afraid to wake her up, or was waiting to ask her something before she scurried off to work... but because I refuse to get up on my "vacation" with nothing to do, EARLIER than the 49 year old woman who actually has to be at work. I got pride!
Finally, she wakes up and I dart out of bed. I grab my shoes, and I hit the road... because as much as I hate running, I determined to defend my youth. After my TRIUMPHANT run (casulties include: joints, muscules, feet, and a strange twitch), I decided that because I had absolutely nothing to do (and because my mom finally upgraded her cable) that I was going to do something that would definatly reclaim my glourious youth. I decided I was going to drink... LIKE A FUCKING CHAMPION! You see brothers and sisters, long ago there was a legend by the name of "K-ROCK". And he could drink. And he could party. And the very mere whisper of a party or an all night drinking binge was sure to summon his presence. And not just parties and large gatherings, but he even drank with you on an intimate level. Let's recall the hits:
"Congrats on your A in math... let's get wasted!"
"Say man, she ain't worth it... let's go get you a drink"
"Fuck Valentines Day! Who wants a buttery nipple"
The loveable, "WHO WANTS SHOTS!"
"Hey anyone wanna get bombed and watch all the Jay and Silent Bob movies" (thanks woody).
"Pourin' some out for my homies who ain't here... "
And of course the classic, "Did I just drink myself sober? I...I think I did. Crap, now I sober. I need a drink" (weep, for mardi gras and beerfest memories).
Yes friends, K-Rock was a party legend. And then the day came, when he said to one fellow party goer "I think that I'm going to stay in tonight... I've got to study." Before he knew it, he began to lose his youthful powers. He began to consume water, and juice. He started to read book... yes, books (even the ones without the pictures!). He slowly fell into the trap that is adulthood and lost joy of drunken youth.
Well today ladies and gents... I try to resurrect the spirit of K-Rock! I decided after my shower that I would relive an ancient tradition. See long ago, K-Rock shared a great manor in the region of Sherwood Forest in the land of Baton Rouge. In this manner he resided with three of the most notorious of drinkers: Clint "they got 99 cent tallboys" Gallo, Keegan "My taco, Bitch!" Roberts, and the youngest of them Kyle "twin chicks" Roberts. One day Kyle and K-Rock (more commonly known as "The Oreo Twins") woke up on an early morn, much like this one, and proclaimed, "I don't wanna go to class today... lets drink on the roof instead (warning: do not question the infinite wisdom of the great wise drunks.) So they set out to do so. At 8 AM they went to a grocery store and purchased multiple cases of fine beer (Red Dog, and High Life) and returned to sit on the roof top and bask in the zen of alcoholism. So today, I attempted an all day drinking fest. At around 8:45, I opened one. Now at 9:24 AM, it saddens me to tell you that I am still holding that beer (thank God for frosted mugs). Though I will try to fight this through my friends, I must say that the situation is quite grim.
Though I sit here, fighting the losing battle of aging... I ask that where ever you are (at 5:30, because I know your at work or still sleeping right now), that you pour a drink, crack open a cold one, and raise a bottle high in the memory of your youth. "LONG LIVE KROCK!"
Good day,
Kenneth
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