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Ah, the ol' drinking to a stupor -- my favorite way to spend my Labor Day weekend. Though I must admit -- I sometimes take it out of proportion.
I recall just last year, when I, like many of you goons, sat at home with my good Scandinavian friend Ulash drinking his thick Swedish beer and watching what every American is rightfully watching on this glorious holiday: Reruns of Jerry Springer.
After that I don't remember much, but from what I can compile from a combination of news reports, neighbors, and a team of private investigators, this is what happened:
Apparently, we stripped naked and started streaking out of the room, unfortunately my fellow drinking partner was a feisty homosexual and was... a little exited. He then proceeded to run into the wall, blowing a magnificent hole in it with his Johnson -- giving our amesh neighbors a pleasant surprise!
They promptly called an ambulance to pull him out of the wall, but apparently I was nowhere to be found..
I woke up three days later (again, but naked) in a Tijuanan bar, with people yelling at me in their strange Mexican tongue. What I did not understand was that I was in México, and I was Terrified! WHAT HAPPENED TO WYOMING?! It turns out I believed I was still in America, I just thought that aliens came down, extended the brims of our hats to an embarrassing 360 degrees, turned our skin brown, and diminished our taste in music!
Long story short, I got back home a week later -- only to find Ulash on the couch, drinking a beer, with a circle of plaster on his lap.
So as much as I do love my alcohol -- I'd advise against it. You know what they say, what happens in Sweden, stays in Sweden.