Holy hell

In accordance with man law #28912, I can't divulge the full details of this weekend. This is partially because I don't remember, though. Here's your highlight reel.

Friday: Meet up, drink, drink, eat a ton of steak and crab and wine, buy BB guns drunk @ wal-mart, play poker until 6a.
Saturday: Play hockey, go to STC, race karts (Awesome), head back, meet rob for supper, drink a shitload of sake and sapporo, eat mucho sushi. Bounce around bars/clubs on landing, play blackjack, go to strip clubs, take cab home at 6a.
Sunday: Watch football, eat BWW, watch Hard Candy, eat pie, sleep.

Things I learned:
-Racing suits hug the nuts.
-Do NOT hit the brakes late coming into turn 4.
-Rob can drink 3 martinis in the time it takes to train in from IL to downtown.
-Everything can be put on a scale of 1-10, including inebriation.
-Nate did NOT cause the poop flood of 06.
-Off-duty strippers are friendly
-Shaved heads apparently get all the hoes. This is something I coulda stood to learn like 10 years ago.
-I apparently look like I was in town for the mixed martial arts matches. This only solidifies the fact that I need to work out more (at all).
-Always double down on 11.
-Rolando has a beautiful singing voice.
-Chris has a way with cabbies.
-Strip-club bratwurst are fucking incredible.
-Smell Nate's glasses.
-Lesbian chair.
-Jim did NOT puke in the back of the cab.
-Friends are awesome.
-I'm broke.

1 more weekend of hell, then my body can collapse upon itself. Luckily, I have sick time now. Airborne and Redbull this week.