So this is it. We are in Week 36. My wife can theoretically go into labor at any moment. If she does, I will literally be throwing all of our baby's shit in the back of the car and sorting it at the hospital. As we get closer and closer to that special day, my wife has grown more and more miserable.
To be fair, I would be miserable, too. The kid is has dropped, which has resulted in my wife sporting the Nine-Month Waddle. If the kid stretches, he kicks my wife's diaphragm into her stomach, giving her acid re-flux. To top it all off, some asshole at work gave me a cold and it spread to my wife. To be fair, it wasn't someone at work. I think it was someone from Krav. They all have kids and kids are gross.
Speaking of gross, I must say that I have sowed my last wild oat (G-d willing). Last week, my wife's friends from China visited: Soup and Cheese. Now, I love seeing those guys. They are great. With that said, I had never gotten drunk with them before. Unfortunately, that is no longer the case. Last Friday, we all decided to go shooting. Guns are illegal in China, because...well....Communism. As a result, they were thrilled to try an actual firearm. If you don't recall, China also happens to be racist as fuck. As a result, when picking out targets, they decided to grab the one with a thug.
Now, did they pick the side that had the White Power looking motherfucker? No. They chose the one with a 20-year-old black kid. We also grabbed a couple of Arab looking targets, because I live in the South and that's what they fucking have. We literally shot Zombie Osama bin Laden. Because 'Merica. When the owner of the range asked which target we wanted to start with, my wife's friends said, "Uhhh....definitely the black guy." The owner, being politically correct, laughed and called Cheese and Soup savage.
And that's how the evening started. I don't know which was worse: Two Chinese and a Jew shooting pistols at a target that looked like Osama bin Zombie and a black man, or the fact that Soup kept shooting them all in the penis. I mean, seriously. His response was, "If they were real people, they may survive. But at least they won't like it." What. The. Shit. Thank G-d we were in the South, protected by Trump's America. And yes, that's a jab at Trump. For the record: China is racist as shit. I am not. I poke fun and talk shit about everyone.
But I digress. Where was I? Yes! Friday night. After taking Soup and Cheese to the firing range, they wanted to make it up to me. How, you might ask? Alcohol. Copious amounts of alcohol. That alone, was not bad. What was bad was the rate at which we drank. They poured shot after shot. We finished a bottle of vodka. Then they pulled out tequila. At the end of the tequila bottle, I was blitzed. I won't say that I was going to have a bad night, but I will say that I was slurring three or four languages together.
What I did not realize at the time, however, was that we had finished the tequila. What did they switch to after Jose Cuervo? Fucking jack Daniel's. Have you ever taken a shot, expecting tequila, and gotten hit with whiskey? It sucks. A lot. I don't shoot whiskey. In fact, I only sip it. Why? Because I can only stomach high-end whiskey. And at $100 per bottle, that shit's expensive. We shot the Jack Daniel's, and I had instant regret. I slurred my languages, cursed those motherfuckers out, and then cursed them again in Yiddish.
My wife, G-d bless her, dragged me upstairs and took Soup and Cheese to their hotel. If that were the end of the story, I would be so happy. Alas, it is not. When my wife got home, she found me passed-out in the bathroom tub, buck-ass naked, having puked all over myself, and unwilling to move. My wife, rather than leave my ass, was kind enough to clean me up (gross), and drag my ass to bed. You would think that's it, but it's not. I then proceeded to refuse a bucket, as I puked three more times in the bed.
After I woke up, my wife recounted the entire story to me. She even included the small detail about having had a Braxton Hicks (fake) contraction, as she was dragging my upstairs. If my wife had gone into labor, I'd have died (buck-ass naked in the bath tub), and my son would never know his father. Even if I didn't die, I'm guessing my marriage would not have fared well. She then proceeded to tell our friends, who all agreed that I was smart to knock my wife up, so that she couldn't divorce me.
Moral of the Story: China is racist as shit, and Soup and Cheese can drink a fish underwater. Also, just as I will likely never get that drunk again in my life (G-d willing), my wife will never let me live this down.
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