Dyko's Saturday night. Oh god.

Last night started off interesting. Drank some rum and coke, had some fun in the backyard...good times. On the way to the bar, things took a turn for the Dyko.
I decided, in my drunken wisdom, to JUMP off of the bus when we got to Islington. Not, my right ankle has been pretty bad lately, so I clearly let my left ankle take the weight.
Bad move.

After screamer the word"fuck" (I don't swear, normally), I dropped everything I was holding, and bent over a mailbox, pounding my fist into the top, and trying very hard not to cry. Everyone went across the street to pee in the bushes, while I dragged myself over to the stairs of the station, where I sat with my head in my hands. I'm not ashamed to say that I cried a little bit.

So we got to the bar, and, even though everyone told me to sit down, I proceeded to stand and walk around all night on my bad ankle (It's actually feeling 10x worse than ly right ankle, and I'm gonna go to the doctor as soon as my parents get home, because it looks BAD). I bought Candice and Jaclyn drinks, and drank a bit myself, so everything there is good.
I joined eeryone outside while they smoke, and we found one of our friends, James, sitting, looking bad, in the alley. The bouncer said that he needed to go home, and that he was asking about Dan.

I am Dan.

Suffice it to say, I end up taking James home in a cab while everyone else did whatever the hell people do when I'm not around (I'd assume talk about how much they miss me). All-in-all, the cab ride cost me $75, which is ridicu-fucking-lous, becaue it's a $30 ride from downtown to my house. No idea what happened there, but it was either that, or the drunk tank for James, so I sucked it up.

At one point, James was puking, and the cabbie made me go get a bag, from the only store that was open. That's right...a Porn shop.
Let that one sink in...

...at 2:30 am, I stormed into a bloody PORN SHOP, limping, and asked the guy for some bags. He looked pretty scared, and gave me what I asked for. I saw things there, though...like...umm...aparatii that I had no want to see.

Ever.

The rest of the ride was spent holding a bag to my friend's face, while carrying on one of my pattented barely-tell-he's-drunk conversations with the driver. Don't ask what we talked about, because I couldn't tell you if I wanted to.

So we get home, and James passes out on the neighbour's lawn, so I climb onto my buddies car (which he left parked at my place), and call my friend Brad, who is also out drinking to re-tell the story. I lay on the car staring at the sky for about 55 minutes, before Jaclyn and Steve (who's car I'm on) show up! We get James set up in a bed, and then all retreat to beds to sleep.
Jaclyn and I shared my bed, and I ended up spending much of the night vomiting in the bathroom. For some reason, while throwing up, I was getting SERIOUSLY concerned with US politics, and the up-comming presidential election. Like to the point where I was actually upset about things. Words like "partisanship" and "rhetoric" were flying around in my head, and I was talking to myself, and making funny moaning noises a lot. At one point, I started thinking about the WCW US Championship belt, and how I'd never win it, which makes sense, I guess.

Around 5-ish, I got up for my usual vomiting run, and James was in the washroom, having one of his own, so I sat in my parents room, and threw up in a garbage can for 5 minutes until he got out (I am fucking classy). We passed eachother in the hall, and had an exchange as follows:

James: "Good day"
Dyko: "No" *VOMIT*

That's bad.

Right now, I am awake, but shouldn't be, because I am operating on 6 hours of non-sleep. Jaclyn and Steve took off, after telling me that my ankle is bad. That's coming from the daughter of a doctor. I think I'll be at the hospital tonight.

I know you all care, so I wish to inform you that I almost threw up 4 times while typing this. Seriously...why the hell am I still single?

Oh, a bit of funny...the bouncer shook my hand when I said I'd take james home, and introduced himself as whatever his name was (like I remember...), and told me that it was a great thing I was doing, and that any time I come back, he'll make sure I get in. That's awesome. The cab driver also told me that I am a great friend, and that I'd make a good husband. That confused me a little bit, but I figure it's a compliment.

I don't have much more to add at this point, because I'm about to take some painkillers and then go to bed. Things hurt, and the world is a terrible place.

Dyko

P.S. $75!?!?