Tag Archive: alcohol


Sing Your Hearts Out In Chinatown

KARAOKEEEEEEEE. Seriously. Karaoke fuck. Seriously. No but seriously. Karaoke.

Seriously though. Karaoke.

I fucking love Karaoke. I can hardly claim that I’m a good singer. But I love the fuck out of doing it. So that doesn’t matter. Because karaoke exists. And I fucking love karaoke. In case I haven’t mentioned that.

So I’m pretty sure it’s obvious this is gonna be about karaoke. WELL FUCK YOU. I don’t play the obvious. The obvious can suck me off and spit in your face.

Woah.

Jesus. I’m so sorry for that. Just imagine I’m backspacing over that sentence. Or don’t. If like….you swing that way. Or whatever.

So friday night a big group of us head out for a karaoke night. Remicks, of late, has become extremely acquainted with a group of Asians. He’s been working at Blowfish’s restaurant for a while, so he’s become the white friend that accompanies them to all the Asian events. And apparently they do karaoke like it’s a religion.

And a fun little tidbit. They make him rap Eminem while they drink. So he’s like their white entertainment. And this is according to Remicks himself.

So the place that Remicks takes us to is in the heart of Chinatown in Montreal. And it is fucking NOTHING like we expected. I don’t even know what the fuck we expected. The place is a private karaoke joint. You rent out sick ass rooms and sing your fucking hearts out with your friends while drinking your life away.

This we expected.

But when we get there, from the outside, it looked like nothing. Walking down this random ass street, you’d have no idea there’s a fucking karaoke place. And when we walk in the door, it’s like the inside of a fucking strip mall. All these shops boarded up and rather ghetto. I was genuinely concerned I just walked onto the fucking Walking Dead.

So we’re standing there. Grunting and moaning. Eating the shopkeepers and whatnot. You know how it is.

We hear this terrible drone of singing drift up from downstairs. There’s this creepy ass stairwell in the middle of the area, and it turns out, the karaoke place is down this staircase. Still no fucking sign though. But whatever.

So we head down and the place turns from beatdown Chinese strip mall to this fucking lit up karaoke joint. It was so well camouflaged we couldn’t fucking believe it was even there. And as soon as we walk down, we’re already in the minority. I got this feeling the place isn’t used to big groups of non Asians. And we were fucking 20 people give or take.

So we get to our room all the way in the back. A lot of us are already in there. And the singing gets started. We order a shit fuck ton of alcohol. Rum and beer and some kinda high fucking class whiskey or whatever that Remicks wanted us to drink. And everybody starts to get fucking loaded.

Remicks becomes the intense guy that he is. Well. Fuck that. He’s already that intense guy. He didn’t just fucking stop before this point of the story. But he’s screaming at everyone, trying to get the group to pay the fuck attention. His goal is to school us in the ways of the Asian dice games that have gotten him so fucked up on a number of occasions.

Remicks: EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU WANNA GET FUCKING CULTURED?! FUCKING LISTEN TO ME.

Yeah it didn’t work. To Remicks complete disappointment.

But by this time. Our buddy Yams has already started his raping of the karaoke machine. And everyone else was soon to follow. But Yams. This fucking guy is the motherfucking MVP of the fucking night. All night this motherfucker sung his life away. Rapping, singing, fucking dancing or what the fuck ever. He wrecked it. Made that shit his bitch.

FlipSide and I end up having to break our seals rather early. So we find our way to the washroom. And there’s a line for the urinals. So we’re standing there for a couple minutes and new Asian dudes keep coming in and going in front of us. And I’m gonna throw it all out there, we were very intimidated. Some of these guys were rather intense. Some Yakuza fucking Triad type of shit. Which I could totally be entirely wrong about. But. You know. Fuck danger.

We stood there, both contemplating what step to take. We looked at each other with questioning looks.

FlipSide: Yaaaaaaa. Wanna go piss outside?

Rooster: Fuck yea I do.

So we peaced the fuck out. Went into the freezing cold, no coats, and pissed in the street.

So the booze is dwindling down quite quickly. Bitches be running wild and fucking hoes.

That’s not true. But. That alcohol gut fucking DRANK. But to my utter fucking dismay. After a couple rum and cokes, I realized tonight is not gonna be a drinking night for me. One of those fucking nights that the booze makes you feel sick before you’re even fucking drunk. Which blows whale ass. And whales don’t enjoy that shit. So that’s fucking dangerous. And there’s fucking danger everywhere.

So I stop drinking and start working the machine. Throwing song after song into the cue. And the setlist at this place is not good. One of the worst group of fucking options I’ve seen. But I threw all that shit in there anyways and the fucking entire group benefited. All the random music coming on couldn’t have been better for the atmosphere.

But it wasn’t working for me. Fucking shit fuck fucking fuck fuck fuck. Not being drunk was not resonating with my loveable self. And something had to be done.

And what’s the best remedy? Let’s get fucking hiiiiiiiigh.

I came prepared. With a nice dub ready to send us to the fucking clouds. And it turns out, I wasn’t alone in this thought. Another bro you haven’t been introduced to yet, Suffix, the beautiful mind he is, also had a joint handy. So we grab some of the usuals and head upstairs, Hurley, Aces, Remicks, Mars. Spark some cigars and cigarettes and get the joints doing their rounds. Some of us smoking outside, some inside. Because we’re cool like that.

That’s not true. It’s cause we’re allowed. At this place they allow smoking indoors. So keep that in mind as this story progresses.

So like I said. I wasn’t able to get drunk. But, fortunately for me, the ganja. Oh the ganja changed that. I didn’t have to be drunk. I was tipsy enough for the pot to fucking boost my shit into outer fucking space.

After this little session, we stormed back into that place like a fucking stampede. Aces was drunker than me before we smoked, and he ran in fucking yelling and hit one of the closed up shops at full speed. And we weren’t far behind. We fucking careened around the corner of the staircase and fucking sprinted down into that place. And it was obvious to the slowly increasing number of patrons, that we were becoming outrageous. Conspicuous. Super fucking explosive obnoxious, if you will.

And from this point on, shit went bananas. This fucking room was like a giant benefit concert. FUCKING EVERYONE was singing. And Yams was at the fucking head of the fucking herd.

Yams the MVP. Massive Vagina Prince.

Close behind him were Remicks and Suffix. Those guys were so into it it was inspirational. And it fed the fucking souls of everyone else there. Everyone became so into the Karaoke. And the best example. Survivor. By Destiny’s Child.

That loud deep voice you hear above all. That’s Remicks. And he can sing my pants off.

And that wasn’t the end of it. Fucking Akon and Eminem were there. The Beatles made an appearance. Our buddy CAB fucking owned the shit out of Deep Purple. The Backstreet Boys, obviously. What’s karaoke without the fucking Backstreet Boys?

And while all this is happening everyone’s fucking drinking their faces to the floor. People are smoking fucking everywhere. When we would go from our room into the hall outside it had become fucking PACKED. Asians everywhere. Along with the occasional honkie like us. Smoking up a storm. It was like a fucking tobacco hotbox.

Going into the hall was like walking into a fucking club. The contrast was incredulous.

And this entire time. I’m fucking HIGH. Fucking blasted to shit. I’m in the room while everyone’s singing their voices hoarse, screaming and getting in peoples faces. And I get the urge to do MY fucking karaoke.

Those of you who know me, know what I’m talking about. I can fucking scream. And I love it. And in small quantities it’s fucking great. But that night. I put fucking 5 Linkin Park songs in a row. Screaming my fucking life out. One Step Closer comes on and I’m so fucking into it it’s like nobody’s even in the room with me.

Rooster: SHUT UP WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUUUUUUT UUUUUP! AND I’M ABOUT TO BREAK!

I was ready to fucking go again, when Remicks comes up to me.

Remicks: Dude. Rooster man. You gotta stop.

So I put on The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars. And SCREAM the shit out of it.

So from here things go at a steady pace. You’ve got the picture basically. Crazy fucking night.

And I’m sitting with Mars and CAB, and Mars is taking photos of them with her camera. I’m not paying much attention. I dunno what the fuck was happening in my mind. But she gets my attention. Screaming.

Mars: ROOSTER! OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS.

And she proceeds to show me a picture. This picture. Is the fucking picture. To master all fucking pictures. And in my state of mind. I couldn’t even handle it. It fucked my face and smacked it against the kitchen sink.

imagejpeg_2_2

So the night’s coming close to an end. And Remicks, somehow, has managed to get some motherfuckers CULTURED.

He’s got the dice game going with Aces, FlipSide, and TBG. And if you think they’re fucked before this game. FUCK THAT. I don’t know how the game works, but those guys got goddamned cultured. Whatever the fuck that means.

As a couple of us are leaving to go catch a cab, Aces comes over. And he is fucking PLASTERED.

Aces: Roosterrrrr. Whyyyy are you guys leavving??? COME ON MAN. I’M SAD.

Rooster: We gotta go man.

Aces: Fucking stay man. It’s only 3 man! Come onnnnnnn.

Rooster: Dude I’m fucking dead. I wanna go home. I want to.

Aces: You don’t have to be a fucking dick.

It was intense. And fucking hilarious. And I’m told his level of drunkenness progressed to the point of being fucking sick. And on the ride home, sick ass Aces fucking pulls out a Samuel Adams in the fucking car. Fucking joker.

On top of this, on our way out of this place. The funniest cab fucking moment ever occurred. We’re stumbling onto a random street. And this cab is driving towards us, so we flag it down.

But I realize that on the top, it doesn’t have a taxi sign. Is has this lit up advertisement for lawyers or some shit. And this fucks me up. And I stop.

Rooster: Wait. Is this even a fucking cab?

The cab driver gets out and I’m still hesitating. I swear to fucking Eugene Levy, I was so confused, I thought this was a fucking lawyer car. I thought this guy was getting out to offer us lawyer services. That was my train of fucking thought.

Rooster: Wait. Wait guys. I think he’s a lawyer. I don’t think it’s a cab.

And while this is happening the cab driver is opening the door for us and getting ready to let us in. And my train of thought makes CAB think with me.

CAB: HEY. Hey is this a cab?

Driver: What?

CAB: Is this a cab? It says lawyers on the top.

Driver: Of course this is a cab. That’s just advertising.

I was fucking DYING. I couldn’t even get in the car I was laughing so hard. And the cab driver. Oh man the cab driver. He looked at us like we were fucking assholes. Fucking dumb pieces of shit. And obviously. He’s kinda right.

Oh. And just as a final note. Great night. Fucking AMAZING memory. Super beast time. But. One problem. Everyone had to go and fucking sing Call Me Maybe.

FUCK CALL ME MAYBE. Seriously. Fuck that fucking song. It is the downfall of the entire fucking universe.

Smoke There’s Fire

So this is gonna be a short one. I’ve had a recent experience that must be shared, seeing as it is FUCKING JOKES.

So here’s the deal. Friday night I’m out with a couple of my buddies for some drinking and drinking and like. More drinking and stuff. It was good drinking.

The night itself was decent, nothing outrageous. So the whole night doesn’t make a blog entry. Getting drunk and stumbling around doing random fucking shit isn’t all that interesting on paper. Though in practice it’s fucking sweet as shit. Shit isn’t that sweet. I should probably say. Sweet as marshmallows.

Anyways. We’re at a random bar. I don’t remember where. And when I’m drunk I do enjoy a nice cigar. So Aces and I step outside for a smoke.

We’re standing there next to an alleyway, and this fucking drunken large ass Asian guy stumbles down the street and turns toward the alleyway. It actually means nothing that he’s Asian. And doesn’t forward this story at fucking all. But he’s Asian, and I’m very meticulous with my details. So fuck you.

As he’s passing us he gets mad fucking close and sticks his face right in our faces, and just stumbles on. Aces and I think this is fucking jokes, so we watch him stumble. And he stops mid alleyway and starts pissing. Facing the other way, obviously. We saw no shaft. Don’t worry.

And when he’s finished he stumbles back and stops at us. Now this guy is FUCKED. Fucking TrainWreckFucked. He stood there fucking staring in our faces, eyes barely focusing on the two of us standing there. I could literally see his pupils dilate as he tried to look into our eyes or whatever shit this motherfucker was trying to do.

Rooster: Yo man. You okay there? You havin a good night?

LargeAsian: MMMMMMMRRRGMMGGMMMGGGG

That’s what he fucking said. I swear. Mmmmmmmrrrgmmggmmmgggg. It was fucking elaborate.

He looked at us a few more seconds and then tried to walk away. But instead he kind of just, stood in place and did some kind of fucking feet shuffle. Which didn’t get him anywhere. And he looked back up at us with this look of surprise on his face. Like he thought he walked away, only to realize he didn’t fucking go anywhere.

Aces and I are silently dying. Trying not to laugh.

Rooster: You don’t look so good man. You feeling alright?

LargeAsian: NNNNNMMMNNNNGGGGMGRRRRG.

This guy was a fucking conversationalist. I kid you not.

Rooster: Here man. I bet you could use one of these.

I handed him my half finished cigar. Cause I’m a decent motherfucker. And this guy needed my aid.

And I swear to you. He fucking grabs the cigar from my hand. Continues looking in our faces, and without even glancing at it, puts it in the pocket of his hoodie.

My fucking lit cigar. He fucking put my lit cigar into his hoodie. And he did this like it was the most fucking normal thing he could have done. Like he was just checking the time or some shit. That’s just what he does with fucking cigars. Obviously.

Aces and I fucking cracked the fuck up. It was unavoidable. Did this just actually fucking happen?

And when we laugh he looks at us like he wants to kill us. But that quickly passes. He mumbles some more nonsense. And he just ambles away into the darkness of Montreal.

As you can see. This had to be shared. I really hope he enjoyed my cigar. He deserves it.

A Story From Remicks

Hey guys, welcome the fuck to Rooster’s Blog.

My name is Remicks, you may remember the name from the other fucking crazy stories. If you don’t, you may excuse yourself the fuck away from this page.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m going to write this blog entry for Rooster because my blog was PG the fuck 13 and his is clearly anything fucking goes. So I’m letting out my inner “fuck shit piss motherfuck bitch whores” on this bitch.

This is one of those nights that everyone who attended will remember for years to come. To set the premise I’d like you all to know that I won’t be using any fucking names during this blog because anonymity was both asked for and implied for the dignity of some of the fuckers in this story.

So one of my fucking awesome friends ended up having a house to himself for a whole fucking month – this doesn’t happen very often and much less for this fucking guys family.

We partied pretty fucking hard pretty fucking often, but one night we fuckin decided that we were going to play the game Edward 40 hands. For you boring fucks who don’t know what the fuck the fucking game is well fuck – be immature for a year and have some fucking fun. It’s about duct taping some fucking fortys to your fucking hands and not taking them off till they’re both done.

The night was young and the fucking plan was actually to have a mini show (of two local bands) for their closest friends.

And we crashed the fucking party with fortys. While the show was being played we randomly decided it’d be a fucking great idea to start cheersing one another while saying Edward every fucking time you cheersed another Edward.

“Edward” “Edward!” “Good day Edward!”

Problem is we were a fucking dozen retards holding these fortys – all wanting to piss and having tired muscles from holding the heavy fucking bottles.

The show was dope as fuck – the first band having a member that has been part of virtually every story Rooster has written.

The other band just being a group that has played together so long the complexity and dynamic of their music was just remarkable – three fucking thumbs up to both of them.

[Allow me to interject for just one moment. I, Rooster, will take the baton from this dirty mouthed fatherfucker.

I’d like to give some insight into the degree of my wasted off my life-ness.

At one point, during the collective Edward cheersing of 2012, my drunk ass broke the top of one of my fortys.

So here I am, stumbling around, taking swigs from a sharp fucking shard, when the second band starts playing “Stacy’s Mom”.

And my drunk ass flips the fuck out, swaying and smashing my way through the tiny crowd, singing “Scotty Doesn’t Know”, at the top of my lungs.

I was entirely convinced that they were playing that song, which of course, they fucking weren’t. And afterward I go up to them and convey my total mind blown happiness.

Rooster: I WAS SO FUCKING HAPPY WHEN YOU PLAYED SCOTTY DOESN’T KNOW.

Singer: (blank face) We didn’t play that…..

Rooster:………..

And now that I have ruined his flow, to pass it back to Remicks.]

By the time we were fucking done our fortys (and a picture before the removal of the fortys– that made it on TheChive.com) we got some fuckin chick to cut them off and proceed to rip off the duct tape……..along with any fucking hair we once had on our hands.

Now this is when the fucking party picked up. All those who weren’t playing forty hands still got fucked on whatever they were drinking – and the Jell-o shots came in from the outside. This was during the middle of winter in CANADA… so they were ready as fuck to get consumed. We downed those and started doing what we do best – ramble on about stupid shit and try to get others more fucked up.

By this time some random girl was at the party giving herself to any fucking guy who’d make eye contact with her. I’m not sure if she’s always fucking like that (pun?) or if she was on tongue to the face mode that night – but she looked like she was having (and looking to give) a good fucking time.

This girl starts going after the host of the party – she goes as far as drawing a chick touching herself on the whiteboard in his room. The drawing was dirty as fuck – but kudos to the effort, it’s more than my left brained ass could do on a good day. Bitch got tired because the host wasn’t down for her sloppy trunk trying to get on his junk so she moved on to her next target.

This next target – who may or may not be the author of this blog, [It was] fucking pushed the limits of this girl. They were making out and it looked like it was on from dusk till dawn. [We were] These fucking kids were basically at each other’s faces like the world was going to end.

They took it downstairs to the room where Rooster’s ex was staying (they moved in temporarily when the parents left) and he was, to quote Rooster, “Sucking on her tittys”, [I fucking was] making out and god knows what else until they got cock blocked. [Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck]

This can be looked at as fucking disgusting – but I thought it was fucking jokes as fuck, I mean how good of a moment Is it to suck on some beautiful ass titties on the current bed of your ex – and then have her the one who walks in on you?!

Golden .

Around this time there were other things happening – not fucking cool things. Some two fucking assholes were basically groping a girl who didn’t want any of it. A very rape-y sort.

When people finally stepped up and told them to fuck off, these fucking retards leave – but not without smashing a window first.

Now the host of this party can kick some fucking ass singlehandedly. But he fucking took a bat out. Shit got settled and the cops were called but he went in a blood rage and fucking punched a metal pole before he realized he had to calm down.

The party cleared out a bit after the events of those fuckheads – but the girl of the hour had yet to acquire her target for the night. This girl starts sitting on laps and probably would have taken her clothes off if she didn’t get the attention she needed.

Eventually she acquired a target and had the nerve to take him into the parent’s room for some action. This didn’t fucking go over well with the host – who somehow got more shit thrown in his face aside from the broken fucking window. He stormed in and kicked those two shitfaced retards out of his fucking house and called it a night.

This fucking night ended the relationships of a few of the attendees due to the obvious fucking reasons .

Sucking tittys on the ex’s bed? GG
Breaking a window? GTFO
Sex on parent’s bed? /unfriend

All said and done – the concert was fucking amazing and those fucking groups fucking blow my fucked mind to fuck.

For a PG 13 and completely unrelated version of my writing check jcoppola.wordpress.com

I will leave now.. with a couple of
Fuck shit piss motherfucking whore fucking slut cunt ass twat bitchass hoefaced chode with a fucker on top tabarnak coliss esti putain de merde encule ta mere batard.

Thank you and have a nice day 🙂