TheLegendsLeague | Bryan Espiritu

I went out last night to watch some UFC at my boys crib with a few folks and have some beers. For some reason I decided that it’d be smarter for me to buy a 6 of Becks tall cans versus my usual 6 of Heineken. I didn’t drink them all, but I did finish 4 of them before hearing we had plans to leave my boys house and go see some girl for her birthday at an open mic. womp womp. It was pretty lame. But while I was there I did my usual thing and bought (enter foolish amount here) Heinekens at the bar to assure EVERYONE would get pretty faded. This is not my responsibility, I understand, but I do it anyway and should probably cut it the fuck out. Sidebar: There was a dude in the bar wearing a “TITO BOY SCOUTS” t-shirt. I couldn’t stop laughing at that shit. lmao. So we leave there to go to Strangelove. By this point I’m well drunk, and from the looks of it, so are Chino, who’s in town from NY, and Los. My boy Paolo was driving and stayed pretty responsible. So we walk into Strangelove and it’s another desert island. womp womp. That doesn’t stop the onslaught of alcohol though. Pints and bottles started coming my way and it got to a point where I realistically could not drink anymore. It was impossible. We leave Strangelove and walk down the road to get a Shawarma and I run into Niko, Drake, Future, Sherise, Shea and Addy (I think. smh.), etc, etc for 40′s Birthday. I was so fucking drunk I don’t even remember if I saw anyone else. I could barely carry on a conversation with anyone. Future was telling me that he’s still up on the blog and he checks for me and I don’t even know what I mumbled out in response. Sherise asked what I did all night and I couldn’t even remember. I think I spoke to Niko for a bit, but I’m not sure what about. AND I DON’T THINK I WISHED 40 A HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! FUUUCCK. Ultimate social drunkenness FAIL!. So I walk into the shawarma shop for a second and when I come back out, everyone is gone. My ride. Chino. Los. I’m like, “Aw FUCK!! These guys left me!”. Turns out they were inside Vivoli chatting it up with some of the peoples inside, and by the time they came out “certain someone’s” were getting riled and rowdy and I was on some LETS GO RIGHT NOW type shit. I’m shaking my fucking head.

So I get home knowing damn well I’m gonna be hungover. But here’s the thing. It’s MY FAULT! You can’t expect to go out and drink as much as we drink, in as short a period as we decide to do it, and NOT be hammered to a point that your body is just gonna fail you the following day. But my thing is that I need to take some control and responsibility over that and not let it happen. So I’m drinking my water, regaining my “composure”, and preparing myself for a hellish morning at the gym.

Why do we do it man? Why do we get ourselves to this foolish standard of inebriation?? It’s ridiculous. Is it fun? Yeah. But not when shit gets rowdy and the testosterone starts to get thrown around. I’m not with that. At all. I’ve got a career to worry about. So when motherfuckers that I’m with start to get brave around motherfuckers that I’m down with, do work with, and genuinely give a shit about, it pisses me off. And it definitely makes me apprehensive about who I decide to go out and get drunk with.

I can’t expend any more energy on this shit… I’m out.
Be back in a couple of hours.

be.

ps. Don’t my arms look funny as hell in that pic?! Like they’re legs or something?!