“You’re the nucleus… you’re spinning around, out of control… what looks good to you, Tom? What looks good to you?”

It’s Sunday night, round about midnight. My cell phone rings. It’s Scott, and he’s liquored up.

If you know Scott, you know that he has a tendency to babble when he’s drunk. Try to get a word in edgewise, and he talks right over you. I’m in a good mood, so I decide to just run with it and see just how long he can go.

Two and a half hours later my cheeks hurt from smiling and my gut hurts from laughing so much. I was the only one laughing though, Scott was dead serious.

Sometime into the phone call I decide to start recording the conversation–I had to have proof of how hysterically hilarious the drunken ramblings of Scott is. My cell phone only records 60 second spurts, so I did the best I could.

Here are the top 4 recordings:

MP3 format
The Nucleus, part 1
The Nucleus, part 2
The Nucleus, part 3
The Nucleus, part 4

WAV format
The Nucleus, part 1
The Nucleus, part 2
The Nucleus, part 3
The Nucleus, part 4

Warning: this is a very long post. But then, it was a very long weekend.

I spent this past weekend down in Discovery Bay with my buddy, Dave. His wife was out of town, so it was time to cut loose and party. This only happens once a year, and I didn’t want to miss it.

I drove down early on Friday afternoon, down through the Sacramento River Valley, past Sacramento, and down into the delta region where the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers meet and dump into the San Francisco Bay. Being the month of June it was damn hot—97 degrees at noon. My truck doesn’t have air conditioning so I had to suffer with the windows rolled down and a gallon of water at my side. It took me about two and a half hours to make the trip.

Discovery Bay has exploded in the past couple years. I remember teasing a friend for living there years ago—there’s nothing out there—was nothing, I should say. Now it’s the new hotspot for young, married professionals. It reminds me a bit of Irvine, ten years ago. There are housing developments and tract homes everywhere, with smatterings of corn fields and orchards here and there. Houses are much cheaper than the Bay Area in Discovery Bay. Dave paid $300k for a two-storey, 4 bedroom, 3 bath, 3 car garage bit o’ real estate last year. He just had it appraised for a little under $400k. The market is hot.

Anyway, Dave loves it out there. Everything in his neck of the woods is brand new. There are no renters, and no apartments or condos. There are tons of families, and couples ready to start families. I know that this area is not for me.

I learned a thing or two this weekend about the guy I’ve called my best friend for 20 years now. We have pretty different tastes in living arrangements. Dave is happy to live in suburbia, while I would wither and die in such a place. I need to be close to downtown. I need to be able to walk to bars and socialize. I was very happy to live in Belmont Shore for years in Long Beach. I love where I currently live, close to downtown Chico, and soon I may move to downtown Davis when I start work with the railroad.

I also came to realize this weekend that Dave and his wife are going to make it. He really does love his wife, and their life together. It was rocky at first, but now, three years later, they seem to have settled into a comfortable cohabitation devoid of passion. They love their careers and the money they make, and most of all, they love their expensive things.

They are constantly upgrading vehicles—Dave has a brand new Ford F-150 and Kaulana has a new convertible Beetle. Dave has a HUGE widescreen TV in the living room—70 inches—with surround sound 7.1 speakers and all the fixin’s. Their entire house is decorated in a sort of hybrid Oriental-Hawaiian style, replete with Tatami mats, Hawaiian knick-knacks, and faux-palm trees. Their latest upgrade is a 100 gallon salt-water aquarium full of authentic Hawaiian fishes. They even have an eel—Dave feeds him krill with chopsticks.

It’s an awesome pad, I’ll give him that. It’s VERY comfortable. We swam in his pool in the afternoon, BBQed steaks in the evening, and soaked in his hot tub. We sat on the most comfortable couch in history all Friday night, watching movies, drinking beer, and “talking story”. The Matrix never looked so good, or sounded so good. His home theater is awesome. I must say that I was quite jealous of his setup. I can see why he doesn’t feel the need to go out.

We stayed up until 7am Friday night. I managed to get about 2 hours of sleep.

At 9:30am I awoke to Dave kicking the bed and yelling, “Get up! Get the FUCK up, dude! We got shit to do!”

I cracked open a crusty eye to see Dave. He’s got some flip flops and surfer shorts on, a tank top and his favorite cowboy hat. He’s holding two Coors Lights (one for me). He’s got a fat knot of Copenhagen in his lip. He’s swaying slightly. I know he’s still a little drunk from last night and so am I. I know it’s going to be a long day.

I drag my tired, worthless, drunk ass into the bathroom and take a quick shower. I finish my beer and crack open another. I can feel my headache disappearing. Hair o’ the dog works. Seriously.

“Come on dude, I’m taking your ass to lunch! I know this spot down by the river, let’s go!”

Sweet, Dave’s taking me to lunch? I don’t think he’s ever paid for me in his life. I’m shocked.

We drive around the corner, literally. We could have walked. I shake my head. Dave has to be the laziest jackass I’ve ever known. The place we go to is a nice little pub that looks like its been there for 100 years. There is a bar and a dining room, a dance floor and a deck sitting up on pylons over the delta. We sit outside.

After lunch we sit in the sun and pound beers. We’re starting to get a little crazy and loud. There are families with kids trying to have a nice lunch, and here we are—two drunk jackasses being obnoxious.

Then we start with the “You ain’t no joke you…” crap. This little game is usually just meant to make each other laugh, we don’t actually DO the stuff we propose. Except today…

“You ain’t no joke you pound that beer!” It was a huge schooner of beer, probably 36 ounces. Fuck it! I pound it.

“Your turn, pussy!” Dave chugs his.

This crap goes on for a bit and then I say to Dave:

“You ain’t no joke you jump off this deck into the delta!”

Dave gets this sideways, wicked grin on his face. Oh shit, he’s going to do it. He takes off his shirt, hands me his cowboy hat, stands up on the railing, and jumps.

Oh my fucking shitbirds, stars and gardens. Did he really do it? I’m in shock. I look up and everyone is at the railing, looking over at Dave. I stand up and look down at Dave—the jump was about 15 feet.

I start laughing my ass off. The water was very shallow. It’s only up to his chest.

“Tom! Dude! Help me! I’m stuck in the mud! I can’t get my feet out!” Dave yells up at me.

So what do I do? The brainiac, Tom Bissell, jumps off the railing into the water to help his friend Dave. If nothing else, I’m loyal.

OK, now we’re both stuck. Rhodes scholars, I tell ya… I dive down and manage to dig a foot out. A few minutes later we’re unstuck, and trying to get out of the water. I’ve lost both my flip flops, Dave only has one. God dammit I’ve lost my shoes again. Well maybe not exactly lost them—I know where they are. We climb up the bank and go back to the entrance.

We’re both soaking wet and muddy. We try to walk back out to the deck, but the bartender stops us.

“Hey, whoa! You guys can’t go out there like that.”

Then our waitress shows up.

“No, it’s OK. These were the guys.”

We head out to the deck and take our seats. Everyone outside is standing and cheering and clapping. We feel like a couple of celebrities. We have another round of beers (on the house) and dry off in the sun, then we head back to Dave’s house.

At this point all I want to do is get cleaned up and take a nap, but NO! Dave has invited all our friends over for a Texas hold’em tournament. We have to go pick up the keg, set things up, and get ready for the party. I suck it up and just do what needs to be done.

Around 3pm we’re done with our chores so it’s time for a swim. We hang out at the pool for a few hours and drink. Dave’s father shows up and joins us. I’m starting to feel a little… hot. I’ve been in the sun for hours without sunscreen. Shit. My drunk, stupid ass. I’m going to blister, I know it.

[UPDATE: Yes, my shoulders are blistering.]

More guests arrive. We BBQ again, tap the keg, and bullshit. By 7pm we’ve got 10 guys ready to play. 10 x $40 … this is going to be a fat pot o’ gold. First place takes $300 home. I’m starting to worry that I’ve had too much to drink, and I’ll be out of the tournament fast.

Well I wasn’t the first, but I was ONE of the first. Dave and his father were the first to go out, then another, and then me. Oh well, it’s time for the hot tub.

This is where everything starts to get hazy. I remember some blackjack and some shots of tequila. A few of us were out of money so we played for shots. If you lost the hand you took a shot of tequila. That was around midnight.

At 6am I woke up on the floor in the kitchen. The refrigerator door was wide open. I think I was going for one last beer. I lift my head up and see Dave passed out on the floor near me. I laughed a little bit. Not too much though, my head was pounding.

“Dave. DAVE! Get up dude. GET UP! It’s 6am.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, oh fuck. You have to get up dude. You have to go pick your wife up at the airport in two hours.”

“uhhhahhnmmmmnnnfnfffhhuuu”

“Get up dude!”

Dave finally gets up and goes upstairs to shower. The house is a mess. Ted’s father is passed out on the couch. Dave’s father is passed out in the recliner in the garage. Music is blaring, all windows and doors are open, shit is everywhere.

Kaulana will not be pleased.

I rally the troops and we make our best effort to clean the house. I start the coffee. Dave’s dad starts the vacuum. Ted and Frank pick up all the beer cans and bottles. By the time Dave comes downstairs the house is spotless. He is amazed we were able to clean up so quickly.

Dave and Ted’s fathers laugh that they’ve been doing this for over 40 years. The two old coots sit down to have coffee with the younguns, and share their war stories.

After breakfast I pack up my things and drive back to Chico. All I can think about is going to sleep. Somehow I make it back without incident. It’s noon.

I throw my shit down, crank up the AC, and get in bed. I sleep until 10pm.

So now my sleeping schedule is all fucked up. I slept all day Monday. Right now it’s almost 2:30am and I’m wide awake. I know I’ll be up past noon tomorrow. Maybe I should just stay up and try to go to bed at a normal hour on Tuesday night?

Ahhhh me… life sure is a funny thing, you know?

The All-Stars went out again tonight. We started off with lunch at the Sierra Nevada Brewery. After the best cup of clam chowder I’ve ever had and several pints I was suitably buzzed.

Janden and I spent the rest of the afternoon scouting out new dive bars in Chico. We even stopped by a couple of nice restaurants on the north end of town.

If you you’re ever in Chico, stop by the Basque Norte–they’ll treat you like family. Stewart, the owner and bartender is a very nice, friendly guy. AND he pours a wicked Sapphire and tonic.

Janden and I then met the rest of the All-Stars at Kellie’s house. We had some beers and walked down to the big O. We had a few more shots and pitchers of beer, then made our way over to Joe’s.

Janden flirted with the cocktail waitress, Deb-Deb, quite a bit tonight. This is the gal that The Silver Fox is completely in love with. He can’t stop talking about her. Seriously. She’s a fox, and she’s pretty damn cool. She did a few shots with us. We tipped her phat and she bought us a round.

I convinced Kellie to try Copenhagen. Like a true All-Star she rose to the challenge. She kept it in for a good five minutes. I was so proud of her.

Janden and I had one last round of shots. We finally did it. The REAL pirate shot. Janden has been talking about it for weeks now, and I finally gave in. Here’s what you do.

But a round of shots of the Captain. Drink it, gargle it, swish it around, and spit it back in the shot glass. Now switch glasses with your buddy. Don’t worry, the alcohol will kill any germs. Now you can shoot the rum. Feel your stomach churn. You’ve had way too many shots of rum. One more won’t hurt, will it?

Now it was 2am–we’ve been drinking since noon. Janden can barely walk and I’ve had enough. The All-Stars hit up Tacos de and call it a night.

We were all talking earlier this evening, discussing our boozing habits. Kellie hasn’t missed a day of booze in three weeks. Neither Janden or I can remember the last day we missed.

Do YOU have what it takes to be an All-Star?