For the sake of time and sanity, we’re gonna try something a little different today, Internet. I have two adventures to tell you about, but since I got things to do with my life today (as I’m sure you do, too), we’re going to merge them. It’s not going to make much sense, but really, what does make sense in this crazy world anymore? (Lots of stuff.)

(See? That makes perfect sense. Godzilla sunk the Titanic! Those Japanese are gonna pay.)

The two stories are thus:

1. The sailboat was almost completely destroyed, and I witnessed it.

2. Last night I got completely destroyed, and The Redhead witnessed it.

1. I didn’t have anything else to do on Friday, so I went down to the boat. Don’t believe me? Here’s the evidence. The plan was to putz around, scrub here, wash that, and basically just be a Harbor bum for the day. Later on The Redhead was going to come meet me for a nighttime cruise.

2. The Redhead and I attended a lovely birthday party last night, which was preceded by a Nerf War. (I’d go into that too, but we’ve already got 2 stories going here. All you really need to know is that it was sunny, there was lots of running and physical activity, and I didn’t have enough water or food.) When we got to the party, The Redhead proceeded to greet and converse with the various party goers and friends in attendance. I proceeded to pound beers and smoke cigarettes like they were insulin and I was a diabetic at the Hershey Factory.

1. Our boat is parked moored next to a Maintainence Haul Out in Rey’s Marina. The Boat Yard had a difficult task ahead of them: Pull a 50 foot house boat out of the water that’s too wide to fit in either of the cranes. Their solution? Saw the son of a bitch in half in half from tip to tail. You can see in this picture what happened. It collapsed on itself, 15 feet from me.

2. While the gang at the party played Charades, I played empty the can. I also played Charades, but in a room full of Actors you better have your A game. I did not. My only real experiences with Charades are from scenes in movies like Beetlejuice. I didn’t know people actually played it in real life. As I loudly and drunkenly informed everybody, “I’ve never been to a party where people had to break out games to stave off boredom.” Yeah, that’s pretty much how it went. That was also covering up the fact that I didn’t know about the “movie/TV show” and “2 words, 3 syllables” pantomimes I can give at the beginning. That would have helped. I also read the clue wrong.

(The Redhead enjoys drinking in moderation and not wearing pants.)

1. When the house boat collapsed on itself, it also collapsed on the Boat Yard’s pier. It was either going to sink and take the pier with it, or slide off the pier and move in two opposing directions into other people’s boats. The Harbor guys had to move quick. They attached some lines to the 2 pieces and started pulling the house boat(s) back with a small Boston Whaler (one of my absolute favorite brand of boats). The plan didn’t work, and the starboard half was now moving towards our slip, fast.

2. I can get motion sick. Yes, binge drinking doesn’t help, but I often get carsick when not driving and I have to take Dramamine when we go on sailing trips longer than 4 hours. When it was time for the Redhead and me to leave the party, I was good and sauced and knew that the ride home wasn’t going to go well. Plus, she’s a bit of a wild woman behind the wheel. Slam the gas, slam the brake style. Within 2 minutes of leaving, I was in trouble. And we were not close to home.

1. In the bottom of the frame is our boat. The rest is a giant house boat that tried to mate with her. As the wreckage moved toward us, My instinct was to try and push it away, or catch it. Kind if a silly idea, considering that it weighed close to 10 tons with the water weight. The railing on the house boat broke off when I tried to catch it, slicing my hand open and putting a nice blue paint scrape on the transom of our boat. The house boat nestled in next to the Pog Mo Thoin, lifting us slightly out of the water.

2. Doing the one-eye-closed boogie in shotgun while The Redhead drove us home, I only felt worse and worse. This wasn’t going to end well. I held on to anything I could to try and stay steady, but the overall crappy quality of the roads in Hollywood made me wish we lived in Burbank. Ah, Burbank, with your brand new pavement and luxurious wide lanes…. Anyway, I muttered apologies to The Redhead (something I’ve had plenty of practice at), and lifted my head towards the window. I wasn’t going to puke, but I needed air like a puppy on the highway.

(Even if I did throw up out the window of the car, it’s easy to clean.)

1. For a little over an hour the Harbor guys tried to figure out their next move. The house boat had taken in water, but it hadn’t really sunk. It still had some sea worth left in it. Eventually, with the help of a tow boat and another Whaler, the started to make some headway. The house boat removed itself from out transom, and settled right next to me. There was no longer contact, but there was also no way I could pull out of the slip. I was stuck.

2. When we got home, I immediately went into the bathroom. Hugging the toilet, I thought of the two things everybody thinks of in this scenario: How did I get so drunk, and when was the last time this toilet was cleaned? I knew I had gotten drunk because I had eaten next to nothing, and despite the past, this toilet was now going to be cleaned in the very near future. For a solid 20 minutes I rested there with nothing happening. I finally mustered the strength to go into the bedroom and lay down. 30 seconds after I laid down, I knew it: I needed to back to the bathroom and immediately.

1. The sun was starting to go down and the urgency was kicking in. The Harbor guys needed to get this houseboat out of the water tonight. It couldn’t stay in overnight collecting more water. With a good sized audience now gathered, they made one last effort at pushing it with small boats and guiding it with lines. If they could at least get the two pieces pointing into the Haul Outs, they could move in with the cranes and pull it from the water. It was now or never.

2. It was now. I “returned” all of the beer and margarita, and immediately felt the motion sickness, nausea, and intoxication lift a bit. That’s what makes the next experience so strange. Listen Internet, I almost never have memory loss when I drink. I remember every sad, embarrassing little detail, but somehow I time traveled, and went from the flushing the toilet and standing up to laying on the couch in a ball. The day was beginning to break, sunlight was creeping in, and I was contorted into a dancing dog (or whatever) Yoga pose on the couch. How the hell did that happen?

1. Around the time The Redhead arrived at the Harbor, the guys had actually made some headway. They had gotten the houseboat moving into position and were bringing in the cranes. We would be able to back out of our slip and go for a sail. The bleeding on my hand had stopped and near disaster had been avoided. The scuff of paint on the boat was easily buffed off and no major damage had been caused. We sailed away with the setting sun, and I thought, “man, that was lucky. Overall, this has been a great day.”

2. I finally returned to the bed crawled in next to Red. She was sleeping peacefully and I didn’t want to wake her. My back aching from the awkward couch nap, smelling like I’d been hugging a toilet, and with a pounding headache I felt a little wetness on my hand. The cut from the harbor had opened up again. Grumbling, hurting, and exhausted, I returned once again to the bathroom. I washed my hand and did the one-eye-boogie trying to stay awake, thinking to myself, “man, what a dumb ass. Overall, this has been a pretty lousy night.”

End of line.