Let Me Tell Ya Something

Let Me Tell Ya Something

Memories

The other day I had finished playing a double-header to close out the regular season. Like most slo-pitch teams, we sat around with a couple of beers after the game and shot the shit. I’m not sure how or why it came up, but we started talking about a couple of memories from our younger years. Not only did it make me feel old and make me wonder where the time went. It also made me laugh at how stupid we were.

Before I go on any further about the conversation, there are a couple of things I should mention. When a group of guys chat over a couple of beers, we’re not usually discussing our feelings or solving the world’s problems. Let’s face it, most of what we talk about is insignificant or it’s about stupid things. The same goes for memories. As guys, we remember the stupid things we’ve done the most. Then we talk about them and poke fun at the friends who did them.

Now don’t get me wrong, we do remember more than just the stupid stuff. In fact, I could probably write an entire blog on just a few seconds from my wedding day. It would get pretty sappy though, and I may be a little selfish, but I want to keep those few seconds for myself. Those types of memories don’t make for good conversation in a group of guys. The stupid ones however… they get attention.

Years ago a friend told us about a drink he learned to make and that we needed to try it one night. He briefly told us what was in it. Which is a lot of alcohol, but apparently you can’t even taste it. He called it “Let Me Tell Ya Something”. The explanation for the name was simple. After a night of drinking it and someone asks how your night was, the answer always starts with “let me tell ya something…”. ¬†What follows that is sure to be a stupid but funny story. So of course we have to try it. What’s the worst that can happen?

Well, let me tell ya something…

We found a Saturday night that us guys could play some poker and have our newly found drink. Unfortunately, the guy who told us about it and the only guy who knew how to make it, was unable to come that night. We weren’t going to let that stop us though. After all, we had a pretty good idea of how to make it, we’d just make it from memory. That was our first mistake.

Jeremy Tongue Out

Do you know what happens when you get six guys trying to remember how to make a drink they’ve only heard about? You get six very different drinks. To be honest, I still couldn’t tell you what goes into making this drink. All I know is that it’s three or four full bottles of various liquors mixed together with some grape flavoured Kool-Aid powder. There is no water, pop or juice used, just the alcohol and a package of powder that is basically flavoured sugar.

Our second mistake was sending the guy with the shortest attention span to buy the ingredients. It was nice of him to do that for us, but he didn’t even get the right flavour of Kool-Aid. He comes home with a “26er” of vodka, “26er” of whiskey, a mickey of peach schnapps, and a mickey of tequila. We’re not quitters so we dump everything into a large jug and mix in the powder, which turns the drink neon pink. As it turns out, that is NOT the correct mix for “Let Me Tell Ya Something”.

I’m not sure where we went wrong, but if I had to guess I’d say somewhere around the whiskey or tequila. It smelled and tasted like paint thinner. A logical person would probably stop drinking it at this point. Not us. One friend says “it’ll probably taste better after the first glass.” Another tells us he ate an excessive amount for dinner in preparation for the night, so he’s committed. That’s all it took to convince us. Besides, we can’t just waste it right?

This is where the memory gets a little foggy. I’m not sure if it started tasting better or if the pure potency of the drink burned our taste buds off. Whichever the case, before we knew it the entire jug was gone. I could try to tell you what we did that night, but with the lack of details I have it would be very hard to read and follow along. One could blame that memory loss on old age or the amount of alcohol consumed. Instead, I’m going to say that nothing stupid happened and that’s why I can’t remember the details well.

The Morning After

The next day however, revealed our stupidity. When I woke up everyone had already left so I went straight to the couch. Too lazy to even pick up a pillow lying on the ground next to the couch. After an hour or so my roommate and I went out on the balcony for some fresh air. We noticed a pink stain on the railing and an even bigger stain on the driveway three stories below. Neither of us could come up with a reasonable explanation though, so we went back to the couch.

Still in pretty rough shape, I found enough energy to pick up that pillow laying on the floor. What I found underneath was not a pretty sight, but it did explain the other pink stains. Remember the guy who had a large dinner to prepare for the night? Well as it turns out, that large dinner was spaghetti, and it was now pink and dried into my area rug. I had to call him up to find out how he was feeling, but more importantly give him a hard time about puking and trying to hide it with a pillow.

His story was better than I had imagined. He woke up on his couch, not knowing how he got there. His feet were black and the rest of him was covered in pink spaghetti puke. He had slept with his ball cap on and when he took it off he found even more puke. From what he can piece together, he fell asleep on my couch. He woke up in the middle of the night and puked on the floor. He then tried to make it outside, but couldn’t make it in time so he used his hat. Once he was outside, he puked a couple more times over the balcony. At this point he was starting to feel good enough to walk home.

Fortunately for him he only lives around the corner from the apartment so it didn’t take long. Unfortunately for him there were a couple of things he had forgotten. One of those things was his shoes, so he walked home barefoot. The other thing he forgot was that he puked in his hat, so he put it on and continued on his way. As for his explanation for hiding his puke under a pillow. He says he probably wasn’t hiding it, he just figured he’d clean it up later and covered it with a pillow so no one would step in it.

Never Give Up

Porch Climbers

I’d like to tell you we never tried to make that drink again, but that would be a lie. Call us idiots for not learning our lesson, but I prefer to think of it as never giving up. We may have failed to make “Let Me Tell Ya Something”, but it gave us a memory to laugh about later. It also opened the door for other stupid drinks to try. Like “Porch Climbers”. Now that’s a drink we ended up perfecting and I will stand by. Though that’ll have to be a story for another time. As a wise man once said… “It’s time for you to go Sir”.

Cheers!

Jeremy Steckly
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