Some people see things and ask why, others dream things and ask why not? Sanchez does neither. With Sanchez, there is no questioning, no thirst for knowledge, no undying appetite for the truth of this world, there is only knowledge. Knowledge of the world, knowledge of women, knowledge that he is the greatest among men. Sadly though, no knowledge of the uni degree he is completing.
On this particular Thursday, this non-existent knowledge was on display. As he sat there in his final exam, looking down at the blank paper that should have been filled with answers, yet sat there empty, teasing him; he thought only of the mischief he would be creating once this exam finished. Finally, he attempted a question. It was a tough one. The question read,
'Name'
As he contemplated the meaning of this question, he decided it wasn't a trick question and proceeded to write his name. "Yes!" he thought, that's one mark down, 59 to go.
After the exam, it was on to the red room. Here, Sanchez's knowledge of women could be used to seduce/roofie a girl. First on the menu, two double blacks. And then two more. Followed by, two more. At which point, Sanchez ordered two more. At this stage, Sanchez wasn't exactly standing up straight. But straight in his cross-hair, was a lovely looking female. As he approached her, the room seemed hotter, rain fell straighter, clocks slowed and sounds were amplified. However, the amplified sounds made it much harder to hear the girl speak so that when she spoke, Sanchez had to revert to lip reading.
"Hey" Sanchez asked.
"Hi, what are you drinking?" she replied.
"Yeah my exams went well, how about you?" he said, showing his rookieness as a lip reader.
"Yes, the weather isn't good" she said, also showing her rookieness at lip reading and how much of a farce this conversation had become.
Sensing the awkwardness, Sanchez decided it was time to go. "Look" he said, pointing to the back corner of the room, "It's a squirrel with a gun! I'm sure he is going to kill everyone!" As she turned her head to find the squirrel, Sanchez grabbed her drink, turned and ran. He ran like Forrest Gump, and ran all the way to the University taxi rank were he caught a cab to the Fox. At the Fox, he found himself drinking two more double blacks and playing the pokies. It was at this stage that someone, somewhere in the room, dropped his glass. It shattered. Everyone yelled taxi and laughed but once the commotion died down, Sanchez called out a sneaky, "Beardddd!"
As Sanchez's pokie money soon ran out, he decided he needed more money. Where do you go to get money? The bank? An ATM? Of course not, the casino! Upon arriving at the casino, Sanchez decided the place he really needed to be was Fridays. As he started the solo trek, he realized he didn't know the way. Calling a friend, he begged her to give him directions. "Please! I don't know how to get there, oh hang on, I need to piss" he said as he found a suitable space of pavement to empty his bladder on whilst on the phone. After re-enacting the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy and walking for about seven hours, Sanchez finally reached Fridays. Only to be told he could not get in. They said too drunk, but Sanchez knew they meant too cool.
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Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Can Sanchez see the future?
It was Saturday the 25th of Septmber, 12.38pm. Today was the AFL Grand Final day. As it was just passed midday, Sanchez was about to have breakfast. As he walked to the kitchen a strange feeling fell over him. He collapsed. He blacked out. Five minutes later he awoke. He had knowledge he previously had not, yes he could still slay sluts on the reg, but there was something new. He couldn't put his finger on it, it was stuck at the back of his mind, unable to be brought to the front. Sanchez decided to let it be, not worried at all by his collapse and black out, he continued to make his breakfast.
He reached down to open the cutlery drawer..."Draw! That's it! The AFL Grand Final will be a draw!"
Sanchez raced to his computer, clicked out of the dozens of redtube videos and brought up his trusty stalking weapon, facebook. He had to publicly dispay his prediction for it to be legit. His fingers danced across the keyboard and before his eyes, history was made. The boldest of prediction had been cast. Many poked fun, laughed and ridiculed Sanchez but throughout it all he stood strong with the knowledge that he was soon to become a national icon. Sorry, scrap that. He stood strong in the knowledge that although he is already a national icon, treasured by millions and worshipped by more, he was about to become even bigger.
Sanchez then went a friend to watch the game. The cruisers were flowing and chat was starting. Going into the final minute with scores tied and everyone screaming for St. Kilda, you could witness a drunken Sanchez standing on a chair screaming for a tie. As the final hooter went, everyone slumped despairingly back into the chairs, hands went to heads and the tears started, but Sanchez jumped off his chair, fist pumping and screaming. He had instantly become bigger the Oprah (not in weight cause that isn't possible, let's be realistic here), Brangelina, move aside, Posh and Becks, who are they? I am Sanchez Alfonso, future teller.
But the night didn't stop there. It was to the local park for a game of drunken AFL and then back to the house to wait for the NRL preliminary final. In the lead up to the game, a dear friend of Sanchez' who we will name BT announced to everyone that he would drink anything I want, and he stressed anything, if I could do 22 clap push-ups. Sanchez isn't exactly known for his physical strength, but when it comes to making BT drink something disgusting, Sanchez knew he had to step up. He drunkinly assumed the push up position and started. At 10 he heard the cry, "You are screwed BT!" But they crowd couldn't feel Sanchez's pain. At 16 he started to slow. The crowd was screaming, Sanchez's muscles were burning and BT was there telling me how much it hurt. 18...19.......20.....................21....................................Nothing! Sanchez couldn't do it. He collapsed, BT dived on him, screaming words that can not be repeated here.
After overcoming that disappointment with a few tasty cruisers, the count was now up to 10. Halfway through the footy game, a drinking game was proposed. You had to name a player from each team and each time they touched the ball, you had to drink. If the players tackled each other, you had to scull. Sanchez picked Gibbs from the Tigers and Cooper from the Dragons. The game was going well until Cooper was tackled by Gibbs. Oh no, a scull. But what's this? No one has noticed. Sanchez had copped a massive break. A few tackles later he lent over to his mate, who shall be named, DA (yes I am just using peoples initials, shutup), and whispered, "DA, can you keep a secret?" "Sure mate" he replied. "Even if its incriminating against me?" "Mate, even more reason for me to keep it." he assured me. "Good, cause my two players just tackled each other" I divulged to him. He looked at me and smiled a cheeky but dangerous smile. Sanchez had seen that smile before, he had just made a grave error. "Sanchez's players just tackled each other, he has to scull!" he shouted across the room. It reminded me of a famous saying Sanchez once used in a grade 2 speech... In war, trust is an unfamiliar novelty in which a vessel of deceipt may flow. Poignant and poetic.
Finally Sanchez made it out. Chat chat chat chat. Sanchez woke up with a sore shoulder from throwing so much chat. Not too mention the most raging hangover. But let us rewind, the first stop was Fridays. Then to Stocky. This is where it gets messy. Sanchez caught up with some boys from his old mexican school days and because two of them weren't drinking, Sanchez decided to make up for them. Sanchez's proudest moment came when he went to the bar one time. The girl next to him smiled at him, he smiled back. Sanchez knew, he was in. No doubts, she wanted him. It was fact. Sanchez said hello, she said hi. Another smile. Wow, too easy, clear the bar, this is going to happen right here, right now! "What are you drinking?" Sanchez opened with, hoping this would lead to another classic roofies joke. But as he said this, he noticed a strange thing around this girls neck. It was a male arm. Suddenly she had rotated and instead of her being next to me, it was the owner of the arm. "Mate, it doesn't matter what she is drinking!" the owner told me. Sanchez had two thoughts, 1. Soooo, I shouldn't make a roofies joke? and 2. Hmmm maybe she won't be getting with me. Although he was still unsure on that last one. Apparently some people smile to be polite and not to signal extreme attraction and readiness to engage in adulterous affairs on nightclub bars.
Sanchez was still trying to rap his head and this when he passed out on the bus ride home and had to be woken by the bus driver as he was the last person on the bus. And just on a side note, the bus stop near Fridays won't be the same again. Sanchez the Seer had become Sanchez the Sick.
He reached down to open the cutlery drawer..."Draw! That's it! The AFL Grand Final will be a draw!"
Sanchez raced to his computer, clicked out of the dozens of redtube videos and brought up his trusty stalking weapon, facebook. He had to publicly dispay his prediction for it to be legit. His fingers danced across the keyboard and before his eyes, history was made. The boldest of prediction had been cast. Many poked fun, laughed and ridiculed Sanchez but throughout it all he stood strong with the knowledge that he was soon to become a national icon. Sorry, scrap that. He stood strong in the knowledge that although he is already a national icon, treasured by millions and worshipped by more, he was about to become even bigger.
Sanchez then went a friend to watch the game. The cruisers were flowing and chat was starting. Going into the final minute with scores tied and everyone screaming for St. Kilda, you could witness a drunken Sanchez standing on a chair screaming for a tie. As the final hooter went, everyone slumped despairingly back into the chairs, hands went to heads and the tears started, but Sanchez jumped off his chair, fist pumping and screaming. He had instantly become bigger the Oprah (not in weight cause that isn't possible, let's be realistic here), Brangelina, move aside, Posh and Becks, who are they? I am Sanchez Alfonso, future teller.
But the night didn't stop there. It was to the local park for a game of drunken AFL and then back to the house to wait for the NRL preliminary final. In the lead up to the game, a dear friend of Sanchez' who we will name BT announced to everyone that he would drink anything I want, and he stressed anything, if I could do 22 clap push-ups. Sanchez isn't exactly known for his physical strength, but when it comes to making BT drink something disgusting, Sanchez knew he had to step up. He drunkinly assumed the push up position and started. At 10 he heard the cry, "You are screwed BT!" But they crowd couldn't feel Sanchez's pain. At 16 he started to slow. The crowd was screaming, Sanchez's muscles were burning and BT was there telling me how much it hurt. 18...19.......20.....................21....................................Nothing! Sanchez couldn't do it. He collapsed, BT dived on him, screaming words that can not be repeated here.
After overcoming that disappointment with a few tasty cruisers, the count was now up to 10. Halfway through the footy game, a drinking game was proposed. You had to name a player from each team and each time they touched the ball, you had to drink. If the players tackled each other, you had to scull. Sanchez picked Gibbs from the Tigers and Cooper from the Dragons. The game was going well until Cooper was tackled by Gibbs. Oh no, a scull. But what's this? No one has noticed. Sanchez had copped a massive break. A few tackles later he lent over to his mate, who shall be named, DA (yes I am just using peoples initials, shutup), and whispered, "DA, can you keep a secret?" "Sure mate" he replied. "Even if its incriminating against me?" "Mate, even more reason for me to keep it." he assured me. "Good, cause my two players just tackled each other" I divulged to him. He looked at me and smiled a cheeky but dangerous smile. Sanchez had seen that smile before, he had just made a grave error. "Sanchez's players just tackled each other, he has to scull!" he shouted across the room. It reminded me of a famous saying Sanchez once used in a grade 2 speech... In war, trust is an unfamiliar novelty in which a vessel of deceipt may flow. Poignant and poetic.
Finally Sanchez made it out. Chat chat chat chat. Sanchez woke up with a sore shoulder from throwing so much chat. Not too mention the most raging hangover. But let us rewind, the first stop was Fridays. Then to Stocky. This is where it gets messy. Sanchez caught up with some boys from his old mexican school days and because two of them weren't drinking, Sanchez decided to make up for them. Sanchez's proudest moment came when he went to the bar one time. The girl next to him smiled at him, he smiled back. Sanchez knew, he was in. No doubts, she wanted him. It was fact. Sanchez said hello, she said hi. Another smile. Wow, too easy, clear the bar, this is going to happen right here, right now! "What are you drinking?" Sanchez opened with, hoping this would lead to another classic roofies joke. But as he said this, he noticed a strange thing around this girls neck. It was a male arm. Suddenly she had rotated and instead of her being next to me, it was the owner of the arm. "Mate, it doesn't matter what she is drinking!" the owner told me. Sanchez had two thoughts, 1. Soooo, I shouldn't make a roofies joke? and 2. Hmmm maybe she won't be getting with me. Although he was still unsure on that last one. Apparently some people smile to be polite and not to signal extreme attraction and readiness to engage in adulterous affairs on nightclub bars.
Sanchez was still trying to rap his head and this when he passed out on the bus ride home and had to be woken by the bus driver as he was the last person on the bus. And just on a side note, the bus stop near Fridays won't be the same again. Sanchez the Seer had become Sanchez the Sick.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Regatta chat
'twas the final night in Brisbane for Sanchez Alfonso before he departed for a week of fun-filled, alcohol-riddled and bloggable mischief on the ski slopes of Thredbo. But before his departure, Sanchez wanted one more night on the town. It wasn't so much that he wanted it, it was the public demanded it. And who am I to deny the public their greatest wish, I farewell them in style...
As is usual on a Wednesday night, Sanchez's touch team, Dumbledore's Army, played. For the first time in a while, the team went down, losing 6-2. Special mention to Sanchez Alfonso for scoring both tries. Unfortunately, the team recieved a weeks worth of detention with Professor Umbridge writing lines, "I must not lose touch when representing Dumbledore's Army". After this demoralising loss, Sanchez knew there was only one way to salvage his night... Get absolutely blind at the Regatta.
This goal was achieved much quicker than anticipated though as Sanchez had forgotten to eat or drink after his game and was consequently swaying on the spot after a few double blacks. Whilst on the subject of double blacks, I must admit I committed one of the most rookie errors known to double black drinkers. After being told to have a sip from the bartender so he could put some raspberry in, in my over zealous state, I sculled about a third of the drink. The bartender then almost filled the drink up with raspberry. Needless to say, the drink was a bit rich but nonetheless tasty. After a few double blacks, Sanchez switched to a cheaper drink, vodka sunrises and it was whilst carrying these drinks he had the following encounter.
Sanchez approached some of his friends who were now talking to a lovely looking lady, very attractive and in shape. I would like to stress that point, you will see why soon. I placed my drinks down on the table and entered the conversation. Immediately my friends introduced me as 'the guy from millionaire' instead of my real name, Sanchez Alfonso. I knew that she was about to ask me something and being the TV celebrity that I am, I anticipated the question I had heard millions of times and quickly pulled out a pen and paper and said, "Yes its ok, you can have an autograph." As the conversation flowed and my drinks became more empty, she told us she was from Perth. "Drugs are a big in Perth" she said, "So are the ladies, it seems" remarked Sanchez. The whole of Regatta stood still, glasses smashed, a communal gasp echoed around the room. "I'm sorry, you aren't fat" I said, holding back the laughter, "You are just big boned" I teased. The look in her eye told me it wasn't safe me to be standing around her for much longer. I left.
On my way to finding some more friends, I bumped into an old friend who relayed to me a quite disturbing story. In her drunken state she tackled me into the wall and whispered, "I broke my drought on the weekend". I said, "What? I can't hear you!" "I broke my drought!" she said a little louder. "You broke your toe?" I replied. "I BROKE MY DROUGHT ON THE WEEKEND!" she screamed. Everyone within 5 metres turned and looked. "Ohhh, yeah I heard you the first time" I smiled at her. Too drunk to understand how I had just pulled off a brilliantly devilish plan, she continued to tell me how it had happened. Apparently, she had told this guy to wear a condom as she was not on the pill but about halfway through he said, "Oh my god, this feels so good without a condom". That was the end of that, she screamed, jumped out of the bed and ran into the toilet crying. Unfortunately for her, she was embarrassed, in a toilet and worst of all, naked. After calming herself down, she returned to the guys room to find him on the phone relaying this exact story to a friend. She dressed herself and left without a word. Finally she tells me, "I hate going through a drought, what's your longest?" I look at her, laugh and hold up 5 fingers. "Months?" she asks. "Days" I reply.
As is usual on a Wednesday night, Sanchez's touch team, Dumbledore's Army, played. For the first time in a while, the team went down, losing 6-2. Special mention to Sanchez Alfonso for scoring both tries. Unfortunately, the team recieved a weeks worth of detention with Professor Umbridge writing lines, "I must not lose touch when representing Dumbledore's Army". After this demoralising loss, Sanchez knew there was only one way to salvage his night... Get absolutely blind at the Regatta.
This goal was achieved much quicker than anticipated though as Sanchez had forgotten to eat or drink after his game and was consequently swaying on the spot after a few double blacks. Whilst on the subject of double blacks, I must admit I committed one of the most rookie errors known to double black drinkers. After being told to have a sip from the bartender so he could put some raspberry in, in my over zealous state, I sculled about a third of the drink. The bartender then almost filled the drink up with raspberry. Needless to say, the drink was a bit rich but nonetheless tasty. After a few double blacks, Sanchez switched to a cheaper drink, vodka sunrises and it was whilst carrying these drinks he had the following encounter.
Sanchez approached some of his friends who were now talking to a lovely looking lady, very attractive and in shape. I would like to stress that point, you will see why soon. I placed my drinks down on the table and entered the conversation. Immediately my friends introduced me as 'the guy from millionaire' instead of my real name, Sanchez Alfonso. I knew that she was about to ask me something and being the TV celebrity that I am, I anticipated the question I had heard millions of times and quickly pulled out a pen and paper and said, "Yes its ok, you can have an autograph." As the conversation flowed and my drinks became more empty, she told us she was from Perth. "Drugs are a big in Perth" she said, "So are the ladies, it seems" remarked Sanchez. The whole of Regatta stood still, glasses smashed, a communal gasp echoed around the room. "I'm sorry, you aren't fat" I said, holding back the laughter, "You are just big boned" I teased. The look in her eye told me it wasn't safe me to be standing around her for much longer. I left.
On my way to finding some more friends, I bumped into an old friend who relayed to me a quite disturbing story. In her drunken state she tackled me into the wall and whispered, "I broke my drought on the weekend". I said, "What? I can't hear you!" "I broke my drought!" she said a little louder. "You broke your toe?" I replied. "I BROKE MY DROUGHT ON THE WEEKEND!" she screamed. Everyone within 5 metres turned and looked. "Ohhh, yeah I heard you the first time" I smiled at her. Too drunk to understand how I had just pulled off a brilliantly devilish plan, she continued to tell me how it had happened. Apparently, she had told this guy to wear a condom as she was not on the pill but about halfway through he said, "Oh my god, this feels so good without a condom". That was the end of that, she screamed, jumped out of the bed and ran into the toilet crying. Unfortunately for her, she was embarrassed, in a toilet and worst of all, naked. After calming herself down, she returned to the guys room to find him on the phone relaying this exact story to a friend. She dressed herself and left without a word. Finally she tells me, "I hate going through a drought, what's your longest?" I look at her, laugh and hold up 5 fingers. "Months?" she asks. "Days" I reply.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Sanchez creates the Dreamteam
It was July 5, 12.30am in the morning. Sanchez and 4 of his mates had just passed the fifth hour of their FIFA session. For those uneducated few, FIFA 10 is a playstation game based on the most popluar sport in the world, soccer. After five hours, Sanchez had firmly establish himself as one of the players to beat but with all his brilliance, there remained one question. Could the FIFA superstar play in a team? Hence, the FIFA Dreamteam was spawned.
Sanchez and his friend, Skasian. FIFA Dreamteam! The two best players this side of the equator, having spent years at each others houses battling it out, now joining forces to defeat lesser men on the field of dreams. The challengers were Row-Row, Cooper and T-Rex. I use these codenames for their own safety and to save them from the embarrassment that will come with the completion of this story. First, the dreamteam swept aside the challenge of Row-Row and Cooper, then T-Rex and Cooper were dealt with. It was like taking candy from a child.
As Sanchez's and Skasians' fingers danced across the controllers, it seemed nothing could halt the dreamteam. But there was one last hill to climb. Row-Row and T-Rex. The winners would be heroes, men amongst boys and the losers would be cast off into the oblivion that is the world of heartbreak.
After 10 mintues it was 1-0 to the dreamteam and it seemed as though the hill has become a mound. It was all too easy! The longer the game progressed, the more confident the dreamteam became, it was still 1-0 but surely we could lay on a few goals if we really needed to. But with only a few minutes remaining on the clock, disaster struck. T-Rex stood up to be counted and scored to send the game into extra time. The dreamteam gathered themselves, ready to stamp their authority but it the authority didn't come. Row-Row and T-Rex dominated the first half of extra time, it finished at 3-1 to them. The dreamteam was shellshocked, what had happened? Is this really the end? We needed 2 goals in 15 minutes to send the game into penalties. It can be done, but could we do it? Decisions had gone against us all game, were we man enough to pull ourselves inch by inch from the edge of defeat and the end of the dreamteam?
After 10 mintues of the second half of extra time, the score was still 3-1. It can't be. Cooper had been waiting his whole life to see the dreamteam crash and burn and now was full of chat, "Dreamteam got nothingggg, what's that Sanchez? Losing 3-1! Dreamteam is gay!" His hatred at having been sodomized on the FIFA pitch by the dreamteam in the past was coming out.
It was do-or-die, was dreamteam a champion team or a team of champions? 4 mintues remaining on the clock and dreamteam go forward in attack. The ball is moved from side to side sublimely, Sanchez breaks through, he is one on one with the keeper, he draws him and slips off a pass to Skasian who slots the goal. 3-2. Game on. 2 mintues of injury time is added on. And again the dreamteam press forward, is this it? No, the ball is cleared. The room is silent, everyone is on the edge of their chair, Cooper is biting his nails. The fulltime whistle will go any second, but the dreamteam attack once more, their last chance. Sanchez slides through the defence, everyone holds their breath, he shoots... The keeper can't hold it but he can push it away, but Skasian is following up again, "Finish it!" "Noooo" yell Sanchez and T-Rex at the same time. Skasian, with the weight of the FIFA world on his shoulders, holds the circle button and directs the ball into the back of the net. The celebrations wake the neighbourhood, T-Rex, Cooper and Row-Row are distraught, tears flow down their cheeks. 3-3. Fulltime. We are going to penalties!
Each player scores his first penalty as the tension grows. Any miss will potentially be the end. Row-Row lines up against Sanchez as keeper. This is mental warfare and I'm inside his head. He shoots for the right side, the ball is on its way, surely it's in. But no, the keeper's hand comes from no where to save the goal. Sanchez is a national hero, but can he finish the game, he needs to convert from the spot. He hits the crossbar! No goal, game still on. A solitary tear rolls down Sanchez's cheek.
Skasian pulls off another amazing save, is this it? The final nail in the coffin. Graduating from boys to men, it all relies on Skasian's ability to score from penalty spot. He hits it, it hits the back of the net and Sanchez and Skasian hit instant stardom. The dreamteam had done the unthinkable, it wasn't easy, there were times where we both thought we wouldn't come out on top but there is an inherent quality in champions that refused to lie down. Row-Row, T-Rex and Cooper aren't even has-been's, there are never-were's. Sanchez slept very well that night.
Note: Dreamteam is willing to take on any team of 2 in a FIFA10 match on any console. Anywhere, anytime, anyone. Bring your offers!
Sanchez and his friend, Skasian. FIFA Dreamteam! The two best players this side of the equator, having spent years at each others houses battling it out, now joining forces to defeat lesser men on the field of dreams. The challengers were Row-Row, Cooper and T-Rex. I use these codenames for their own safety and to save them from the embarrassment that will come with the completion of this story. First, the dreamteam swept aside the challenge of Row-Row and Cooper, then T-Rex and Cooper were dealt with. It was like taking candy from a child.
As Sanchez's and Skasians' fingers danced across the controllers, it seemed nothing could halt the dreamteam. But there was one last hill to climb. Row-Row and T-Rex. The winners would be heroes, men amongst boys and the losers would be cast off into the oblivion that is the world of heartbreak.
After 10 mintues it was 1-0 to the dreamteam and it seemed as though the hill has become a mound. It was all too easy! The longer the game progressed, the more confident the dreamteam became, it was still 1-0 but surely we could lay on a few goals if we really needed to. But with only a few minutes remaining on the clock, disaster struck. T-Rex stood up to be counted and scored to send the game into extra time. The dreamteam gathered themselves, ready to stamp their authority but it the authority didn't come. Row-Row and T-Rex dominated the first half of extra time, it finished at 3-1 to them. The dreamteam was shellshocked, what had happened? Is this really the end? We needed 2 goals in 15 minutes to send the game into penalties. It can be done, but could we do it? Decisions had gone against us all game, were we man enough to pull ourselves inch by inch from the edge of defeat and the end of the dreamteam?
After 10 mintues of the second half of extra time, the score was still 3-1. It can't be. Cooper had been waiting his whole life to see the dreamteam crash and burn and now was full of chat, "Dreamteam got nothingggg, what's that Sanchez? Losing 3-1! Dreamteam is gay!" His hatred at having been sodomized on the FIFA pitch by the dreamteam in the past was coming out.
It was do-or-die, was dreamteam a champion team or a team of champions? 4 mintues remaining on the clock and dreamteam go forward in attack. The ball is moved from side to side sublimely, Sanchez breaks through, he is one on one with the keeper, he draws him and slips off a pass to Skasian who slots the goal. 3-2. Game on. 2 mintues of injury time is added on. And again the dreamteam press forward, is this it? No, the ball is cleared. The room is silent, everyone is on the edge of their chair, Cooper is biting his nails. The fulltime whistle will go any second, but the dreamteam attack once more, their last chance. Sanchez slides through the defence, everyone holds their breath, he shoots... The keeper can't hold it but he can push it away, but Skasian is following up again, "Finish it!" "Noooo" yell Sanchez and T-Rex at the same time. Skasian, with the weight of the FIFA world on his shoulders, holds the circle button and directs the ball into the back of the net. The celebrations wake the neighbourhood, T-Rex, Cooper and Row-Row are distraught, tears flow down their cheeks. 3-3. Fulltime. We are going to penalties!
Each player scores his first penalty as the tension grows. Any miss will potentially be the end. Row-Row lines up against Sanchez as keeper. This is mental warfare and I'm inside his head. He shoots for the right side, the ball is on its way, surely it's in. But no, the keeper's hand comes from no where to save the goal. Sanchez is a national hero, but can he finish the game, he needs to convert from the spot. He hits the crossbar! No goal, game still on. A solitary tear rolls down Sanchez's cheek.
Skasian pulls off another amazing save, is this it? The final nail in the coffin. Graduating from boys to men, it all relies on Skasian's ability to score from penalty spot. He hits it, it hits the back of the net and Sanchez and Skasian hit instant stardom. The dreamteam had done the unthinkable, it wasn't easy, there were times where we both thought we wouldn't come out on top but there is an inherent quality in champions that refused to lie down. Row-Row, T-Rex and Cooper aren't even has-been's, there are never-were's. Sanchez slept very well that night.
Note: Dreamteam is willing to take on any team of 2 in a FIFA10 match on any console. Anywhere, anytime, anyone. Bring your offers!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Post Exams Pub Crawl
It was 4.35pm Friday afternoon. 5 minutes ago I had just put the finishing touches on my final exam for the semester. An exam which happened to be identical to last years exam and one in which I was seated behind a dear mate. All in all, I think it's safe to say Sanchez Alfonso will be recieving a 7 for Defence Against the Dark Arts. 5 minutes after the exam, I'm in the carpark getting changed and sharing a 2L cask of goon. Tonight was the Civil Engineering Pub Crawl. Hold on to your seats ladies and gentlemen, this will be one hell of a ride...
By 5pm, a $600 bar tab at the uni bar had begun. Special mention goes to Paddy Bye who was throwing up after an hour of drinking. That's faster than bulimia sufferers, very impressive! Mr. Bye was actually spotted eating chicken bones. He ate the chicken off the bones and then proceeded to chomp down on about 3 bones at once. This wasn't Rugby League drunk, this was Civil Engineering drunk.
After departing the Red Room, we travelled to the Regatta. Sanchez approached the bar, unsure of how many drinks he could order. "Excuse me, is there a maximum amount of drinks I can get at once?" he inquired to the bar staff. "No, what can I get you?" she replied. "6 vodka and orange juices please!" From the Regatta, it was off to the Chalk.
Upon arrival, I vented my disgust that spirits were not included on the bar tab. But due to a sneaky entrance tachnique which included bypassing all security guards, I was first placed at the bar. Beer or wine, beer or wine, beer or wine. I liked neither but really hate feminine girl drink called beer. So wine it was. "3 glasses of the wine that I would most like if I only drank vodka and didn't really like wine please" The bar tender looked at me for about five seconds. "Ummm when your ready thanks" I told her, slipping her a 20cent coin for her troubles. The first sip of the wine was terrible. Mental note, don't order from that girl again. However, due to Sanchez's incredible intelligence, I quickly found a way to enjoy the wine. Approaching the bar, "Hey can I get orange juice put in all of these drinks please?" Done. Delicious. Drunk. By the end of our visit, I didn't even need to speak when I aprroached the bar with my glasses of wine, the lady just got the orange juice out and spread the love.
Now for my brush with fame. After missing the pub crawl bus, I found myself wandering alone through the Chalk. BAM! I bump into Justin Sherman, the Brisbane Lion. This is the short version of a ten minute pep talk. "Shermsss, you just gotta run the corridor! You got the pace, tuck the ball under your arm, run to the fifity, load up and kick a goal! It'll lift the team. Brent Staker (who was about 5m away) is a joke, he's a terrible recruit, he's got nothing, you are the future of the club!" Justin was actually a really good bloke about it all. But now I was posed with a problem, how do I get to Fridays? Unfortunately, I can't tell you. I don't know how I did get there. All I know is I did and I proceeded to dominate the dance floors.
The moment that summed up my night was this attempt at ordering a drink, "Ummm can I have one of those things that in one of those things. A cup and stuff. I don't know the word. The thing in the sky, goes up and down. I don't know. I'm sorry." What I wanted was a vodka sunrise. But it seemed heaven and earth was against me! Leaving Fridays, a maccas trip in the cab was necessary. However, when my friends roommate returned from the airport at 5am and we ordered him to get us more maccas, I wasn't sure if that was necessary. But it really hit the spot. Waking up in the morning with another guy and a girl in my bed, my only thought was, "Wow, did that really happen?" Sadly, it didn't.
And then it hit me. I felt like I was Harry Potter and Voldemort was making love to me. My head wanted to explode. It was without doubt the worst hangover headache I have ever had. But it was well and truly worth it.
These are various messages I sent that night.
"Eeeesiplgt"
"Drugsssss"
"Saaapbnn"
"Is your bthd going hrtf?"
By 5pm, a $600 bar tab at the uni bar had begun. Special mention goes to Paddy Bye who was throwing up after an hour of drinking. That's faster than bulimia sufferers, very impressive! Mr. Bye was actually spotted eating chicken bones. He ate the chicken off the bones and then proceeded to chomp down on about 3 bones at once. This wasn't Rugby League drunk, this was Civil Engineering drunk.
After departing the Red Room, we travelled to the Regatta. Sanchez approached the bar, unsure of how many drinks he could order. "Excuse me, is there a maximum amount of drinks I can get at once?" he inquired to the bar staff. "No, what can I get you?" she replied. "6 vodka and orange juices please!" From the Regatta, it was off to the Chalk.
Upon arrival, I vented my disgust that spirits were not included on the bar tab. But due to a sneaky entrance tachnique which included bypassing all security guards, I was first placed at the bar. Beer or wine, beer or wine, beer or wine. I liked neither but really hate feminine girl drink called beer. So wine it was. "3 glasses of the wine that I would most like if I only drank vodka and didn't really like wine please" The bar tender looked at me for about five seconds. "Ummm when your ready thanks" I told her, slipping her a 20cent coin for her troubles. The first sip of the wine was terrible. Mental note, don't order from that girl again. However, due to Sanchez's incredible intelligence, I quickly found a way to enjoy the wine. Approaching the bar, "Hey can I get orange juice put in all of these drinks please?" Done. Delicious. Drunk. By the end of our visit, I didn't even need to speak when I aprroached the bar with my glasses of wine, the lady just got the orange juice out and spread the love.
Now for my brush with fame. After missing the pub crawl bus, I found myself wandering alone through the Chalk. BAM! I bump into Justin Sherman, the Brisbane Lion. This is the short version of a ten minute pep talk. "Shermsss, you just gotta run the corridor! You got the pace, tuck the ball under your arm, run to the fifity, load up and kick a goal! It'll lift the team. Brent Staker (who was about 5m away) is a joke, he's a terrible recruit, he's got nothing, you are the future of the club!" Justin was actually a really good bloke about it all. But now I was posed with a problem, how do I get to Fridays? Unfortunately, I can't tell you. I don't know how I did get there. All I know is I did and I proceeded to dominate the dance floors.
The moment that summed up my night was this attempt at ordering a drink, "Ummm can I have one of those things that in one of those things. A cup and stuff. I don't know the word. The thing in the sky, goes up and down. I don't know. I'm sorry." What I wanted was a vodka sunrise. But it seemed heaven and earth was against me! Leaving Fridays, a maccas trip in the cab was necessary. However, when my friends roommate returned from the airport at 5am and we ordered him to get us more maccas, I wasn't sure if that was necessary. But it really hit the spot. Waking up in the morning with another guy and a girl in my bed, my only thought was, "Wow, did that really happen?" Sadly, it didn't.
And then it hit me. I felt like I was Harry Potter and Voldemort was making love to me. My head wanted to explode. It was without doubt the worst hangover headache I have ever had. But it was well and truly worth it.
These are various messages I sent that night.
"Eeeesiplgt"
"Drugsssss"
"Saaapbnn"
"Is your bthd going hrtf?"
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Sanchez 101: Quality over quantity!
Quality over quantity. Let these words wash over you, embrace them, and use them as you wish for I have just given you the key to victory in the ever-growing battle of the sexes. Just today I was told, "You have to slay a few dragons to get to the princess". Lies. Sanchez Alfonso will have none of this dragons talk. Sanchez has reached the princess on many occasions without encountering any Hungarian Horntails or Norwegian Ridgebacks. Here is one such occasion...
It was a cold winter night when Sanchez sent out the call, "Get your backside, to Fridays Riverside!" Within seconds, thousands of women had signalled their interest in attending, but Sanchez wasn't after something easy. Sanchez was keen for a chase, a chance to spread his wings, to test himself out, seal the deal and most of all, rub it in his friends' faces.
As Sanchez ascended the Fridays staircase, much like a familiar mythical 'Son of God' did 3 days after his death, hordes of scantily-clad women were congregating at the bar, ready to shout Sanchez a wet pussy. Sanchez strode passed them without acknowledging them. He sat at a table next to his mates and when they gave him a look of utter incredulity and disbelief, he said to them,
"Three words, guys. Quality over quantity!" One friend actually spat his drink out. Thankfully it landed on a girls white dress and not Sanchez. Luck favours the sexy.
After explaining to his friends that he was not here for just any ordinary girl, he stated perusing the crowd for the lucky girl he would chase. As he looked, he saw more and more drgaons, maybe his friend was right. Maybe he would have to swallow his pride and slay a dragon. A sickly feeling filled his stomach as he came to the realisation that this was the only way forward. He rose from his chair, ashamed at the course of action he was about to take. He approached the closest dragon, her skimpy dress hanging off her in all the wrong places. He was not nearly drunk enough for this, but there was no turning back. Just as he was about to introduce himself, out of the the corner of his eye, he caught of glimpse of something breathtaking. Someone beautiful and perfect in every way.
Was it a princess? No. This is not some hack, run-of-the-mill blog where fairytales come true. This is where Sanchez keeps it real. The breathtaking, mesmerising sight that Sanchez saw was actually himself. He had just walked in front of a mirror. As he stood there looking at his chiselled features and Mexican tan, he realised he was above this. He was a better person than these dragons because he was better looking. Good looking people do not talk to dragons, it's just science. Look it up!
The dragon still stood there, waiting, a hopeful look on her face. Sanchez smiled at her, his mind ticking over, he knew what he had to do. He beckoned her over to him. She could barely hide her excitement, the dragon skipper drunkinly across to him. Sanchez started the conversation, "Heyyy, have you met Johno?" and he motioned to his mate next to him who sat there stunned. "He really likes you!" With his work done, Sanchez wandered off to get himself a drink.
As he stood at the bar, giving himself a mental pat on the back, he looked to his right and saw his princess. He got his drink, and went to speak to her, "Hi, I bought you a drink" he said as he handed the drink to her. "Oh thanks" she replied, taking a sip. Game, set, match. Fridays dancefloor, car backseat, hospital ER. Apparently a dozen roofies is too many. The poor princess eventually woke from her slumber, or what the doctors called it, her coma.
It was a cold winter night when Sanchez sent out the call, "Get your backside, to Fridays Riverside!" Within seconds, thousands of women had signalled their interest in attending, but Sanchez wasn't after something easy. Sanchez was keen for a chase, a chance to spread his wings, to test himself out, seal the deal and most of all, rub it in his friends' faces.
As Sanchez ascended the Fridays staircase, much like a familiar mythical 'Son of God' did 3 days after his death, hordes of scantily-clad women were congregating at the bar, ready to shout Sanchez a wet pussy. Sanchez strode passed them without acknowledging them. He sat at a table next to his mates and when they gave him a look of utter incredulity and disbelief, he said to them,
"Three words, guys. Quality over quantity!" One friend actually spat his drink out. Thankfully it landed on a girls white dress and not Sanchez. Luck favours the sexy.
After explaining to his friends that he was not here for just any ordinary girl, he stated perusing the crowd for the lucky girl he would chase. As he looked, he saw more and more drgaons, maybe his friend was right. Maybe he would have to swallow his pride and slay a dragon. A sickly feeling filled his stomach as he came to the realisation that this was the only way forward. He rose from his chair, ashamed at the course of action he was about to take. He approached the closest dragon, her skimpy dress hanging off her in all the wrong places. He was not nearly drunk enough for this, but there was no turning back. Just as he was about to introduce himself, out of the the corner of his eye, he caught of glimpse of something breathtaking. Someone beautiful and perfect in every way.
Was it a princess? No. This is not some hack, run-of-the-mill blog where fairytales come true. This is where Sanchez keeps it real. The breathtaking, mesmerising sight that Sanchez saw was actually himself. He had just walked in front of a mirror. As he stood there looking at his chiselled features and Mexican tan, he realised he was above this. He was a better person than these dragons because he was better looking. Good looking people do not talk to dragons, it's just science. Look it up!
The dragon still stood there, waiting, a hopeful look on her face. Sanchez smiled at her, his mind ticking over, he knew what he had to do. He beckoned her over to him. She could barely hide her excitement, the dragon skipper drunkinly across to him. Sanchez started the conversation, "Heyyy, have you met Johno?" and he motioned to his mate next to him who sat there stunned. "He really likes you!" With his work done, Sanchez wandered off to get himself a drink.
As he stood at the bar, giving himself a mental pat on the back, he looked to his right and saw his princess. He got his drink, and went to speak to her, "Hi, I bought you a drink" he said as he handed the drink to her. "Oh thanks" she replied, taking a sip. Game, set, match. Fridays dancefloor, car backseat, hospital ER. Apparently a dozen roofies is too many. The poor princess eventually woke from her slumber, or what the doctors called it, her coma.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
UQ Law Ball
UQ Law Ball. Suits, free alcohol, fine ladies and Sanchez Alfonso. This is what dreams are made of.
Buttoned shirt done up, hair perfected, pants put on the three legs at a time and a tie hanging from my neck, Sanchez was ready. Upon arrival, Sanchez found he waiting time in bars to be not to his liking. But once it was discovered you could obtain 4 drinks at once from the upstairs bar, Sanchez had his target. Quite a few vodka and orange juices later, significant chat was being thrown.
The theme of the night was James Bond. As the alcohol coursed through my veins, I became more confident in my amazing good looks. Scoring with random chicks would be easy, they're drunk, I'm drunk and I'm Sanchez Alfonso. Game, set, match. So Sanchez and a good friend approached two young lonely ladies.
"Hey, the name's Bond, James Bond" I opened with, a sure winner I thought. Clearly not, as immediately my 'good friend' walked straight off. I kept my composure and fought through their laughter. Within seconds my friend had returned, but it was not to resume his wingman duties but to ask the girls to rate my performance.
"On a scale of 1 to 10, how did he go?" he asked. I still maintain that they misunderstood the question because they couldn't hear over the music. Or maybe I really was a 3...Either way, there were more drinks to be had.
By now, I had switched into 'Hail Mary' mode. Essentially, this is when you just go for it, all or nothing, straight up without any hesitation. It's a favourite of mine, not because it reaps results but because it gives everyone a good laugh, usually at my expense. However, I was feeling confident tonight, I was about to turn my dry patch around.
I checked my hair, fixed my tie and approached the bar.
"Hi, can I get a vodka and orange juice and your number?" I seductively slurred at her.
"Ummm, no sorry, but I'll get you that drink" she replied. After drowning my sorrows it came to me that I hadn't applied my papaw ointment before going to the bar, of course she was going to turn me down. Nevertheless, there were many more drinks to drink and girl to scare, I mean, tune.
After leaving the ball, Sanchez and his disciples were wandering the streets when we came across another group of people. Target locked on, time to shine.
"Hey, can you tell me which way to the city and can I have your number?" I shouted at her, not registering that I had left the loud Tivoli and was now in a quiet street. She smiled, pointed and politely said no.
"Oh, you're turning me down, that's funny!" I called out as I ran away.
The one decent conversation Sanchez did get into with a girl ended in a mysterious fashion...
*20 minutes of talking* "And then my boyfriend went and broke his leg...Hey, where are you going?" Talk about 20 minutes of wasted time.
After nearly getting into a fight with a Broncos player, for which I can't take all the credit for, and just generally being a boss for rest of the night, I found myself at a girls house with 3 other girls. And I know what you're thinking, "How does Sanchez do it? Once again, he will have a 4some, isn't he sick of having 4somes everyday?" But sadly, this wasn't one of those occasions. While the girl who owned the house was a bit of a nazi, Sanchez was in no mood to control himself. The highlight of the night was when Sanchez declared himself the greatest Harry Potter researcher in the last 50 years. However, a silly little girl decided she would challenge Sanchez. Could he name Ablus Dumbledore's middle names?
Now, normally this would be childs play, like studying arts or science at uni. But at 3am and drunk as Hermione Granger on her 10th butterbeer, this was a struggle.
"Percival...Wilfred...Ahhhhh fuck! God damn it nigga! JK Rowling is a whore! Oh, Brian!" I thought aloud. Another girl there asked the silly little one if that was correct,
"I don't know! Who cares, we won't ever find out", she replied with. Ummm, you are with Sanchez, we will find out. And within a second, Sanchez had located the 5th Harry Potter book on the bookcase, for Sanchez knew that in that book, Dumbledore anounced his full name to court in the case against Harry and his use of the patronus charm. After rifling through the pages, Sanchez found the line.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Ohh, so close! And just on cue, the house nazi walks into the room after brushes her teeth to see Sanchez reading through her books. "It's Harry Potter, chill out bro!" Hmmm she didn't like that.
Buttoned shirt done up, hair perfected, pants put on the three legs at a time and a tie hanging from my neck, Sanchez was ready. Upon arrival, Sanchez found he waiting time in bars to be not to his liking. But once it was discovered you could obtain 4 drinks at once from the upstairs bar, Sanchez had his target. Quite a few vodka and orange juices later, significant chat was being thrown.
The theme of the night was James Bond. As the alcohol coursed through my veins, I became more confident in my amazing good looks. Scoring with random chicks would be easy, they're drunk, I'm drunk and I'm Sanchez Alfonso. Game, set, match. So Sanchez and a good friend approached two young lonely ladies.
"Hey, the name's Bond, James Bond" I opened with, a sure winner I thought. Clearly not, as immediately my 'good friend' walked straight off. I kept my composure and fought through their laughter. Within seconds my friend had returned, but it was not to resume his wingman duties but to ask the girls to rate my performance.
"On a scale of 1 to 10, how did he go?" he asked. I still maintain that they misunderstood the question because they couldn't hear over the music. Or maybe I really was a 3...Either way, there were more drinks to be had.
By now, I had switched into 'Hail Mary' mode. Essentially, this is when you just go for it, all or nothing, straight up without any hesitation. It's a favourite of mine, not because it reaps results but because it gives everyone a good laugh, usually at my expense. However, I was feeling confident tonight, I was about to turn my dry patch around.
I checked my hair, fixed my tie and approached the bar.
"Hi, can I get a vodka and orange juice and your number?" I seductively slurred at her.
"Ummm, no sorry, but I'll get you that drink" she replied. After drowning my sorrows it came to me that I hadn't applied my papaw ointment before going to the bar, of course she was going to turn me down. Nevertheless, there were many more drinks to drink and girl to scare, I mean, tune.
After leaving the ball, Sanchez and his disciples were wandering the streets when we came across another group of people. Target locked on, time to shine.
"Hey, can you tell me which way to the city and can I have your number?" I shouted at her, not registering that I had left the loud Tivoli and was now in a quiet street. She smiled, pointed and politely said no.
"Oh, you're turning me down, that's funny!" I called out as I ran away.
The one decent conversation Sanchez did get into with a girl ended in a mysterious fashion...
*20 minutes of talking* "And then my boyfriend went and broke his leg...Hey, where are you going?" Talk about 20 minutes of wasted time.
After nearly getting into a fight with a Broncos player, for which I can't take all the credit for, and just generally being a boss for rest of the night, I found myself at a girls house with 3 other girls. And I know what you're thinking, "How does Sanchez do it? Once again, he will have a 4some, isn't he sick of having 4somes everyday?" But sadly, this wasn't one of those occasions. While the girl who owned the house was a bit of a nazi, Sanchez was in no mood to control himself. The highlight of the night was when Sanchez declared himself the greatest Harry Potter researcher in the last 50 years. However, a silly little girl decided she would challenge Sanchez. Could he name Ablus Dumbledore's middle names?
Now, normally this would be childs play, like studying arts or science at uni. But at 3am and drunk as Hermione Granger on her 10th butterbeer, this was a struggle.
"Percival...Wilfred...Ahhhhh fuck! God damn it nigga! JK Rowling is a whore! Oh, Brian!" I thought aloud. Another girl there asked the silly little one if that was correct,
"I don't know! Who cares, we won't ever find out", she replied with. Ummm, you are with Sanchez, we will find out. And within a second, Sanchez had located the 5th Harry Potter book on the bookcase, for Sanchez knew that in that book, Dumbledore anounced his full name to court in the case against Harry and his use of the patronus charm. After rifling through the pages, Sanchez found the line.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Ohh, so close! And just on cue, the house nazi walks into the room after brushes her teeth to see Sanchez reading through her books. "It's Harry Potter, chill out bro!" Hmmm she didn't like that.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Sanchez's PSA
There are some things in life that should come with warnings for others. These include, women driving, women voting, women operating heavy machinery and women in places of power. Ok that last one was a joke, that would never happen, but nevertheless, safety warnings in life are paramount. So it is with a heavy heart that I announce that instead of writing a charmingly politically correct blog as per usual, I will today voice my seldom heard, but frequently sought after opinion on a matter of national security threatening the foundations of our great land.
As I sit at my computer, a god among mere men, I am afraid that the world is changing too fast, that the boys of this world are evolving into men too slowly, that as the world moves into unprecedented places, the common man is unable to keep up. Of course, I also sit here with the knowledge that no matter what happens, I will live on. I will live on in the memories of the thousands of women I have conquered in the bedroom, the hundreds of men I have conquered on the sporting field and the hundreds of thousands children I have taken candy from. They will remember me.
However, while I may live on, others will perish and their memories will be forever forgotten. The issue that has brought this too my attention is of the utmost importance. There is a danger in this world that many young men and women and not aware of. This danger creeps up on you, it gets you at your weakest, your most vulnerable. I have written of this danger before, but in different contexts. Previously I praised the danger, now I condemn those who have let this creature out of its cage. The danger I speak of is the double black, with raspberry optional but expected. These highly sought after drinks were once the drinks of kings with mere men unable to afford such luxury items. With this pricing in place, many men and women were kept out of harms way as they drank only their pussy little basics. However, the world is a sick place and hence the price of this drink has been slashed to two thirds its usual price. What was $12 is now $8. A night with six of these, is a $24 saving. What kind of evil person would do such a thing?
As I am accustomed to the delicious red elixir, I have built up an immunity but many of these little boys and girls who have grown up on baby basics, can not handle the double black. Forget terrorism, forget women drivers, forget monkeys flying planes, the most dangerous problem in todays society is cheap double blacks. The alarm bells should be ringing, the warning should be in place. Only the manliest of men can survive the lure of the $8 double blacks.
As you read this, many of you may think that Sanchez has changed. But I do not write this blog for myself though, I write this PSA for you, my favourite reader. I am campaigning to protect you.
Personally, I am quite pleased with the reduction in price.
As I sit at my computer, a god among mere men, I am afraid that the world is changing too fast, that the boys of this world are evolving into men too slowly, that as the world moves into unprecedented places, the common man is unable to keep up. Of course, I also sit here with the knowledge that no matter what happens, I will live on. I will live on in the memories of the thousands of women I have conquered in the bedroom, the hundreds of men I have conquered on the sporting field and the hundreds of thousands children I have taken candy from. They will remember me.
However, while I may live on, others will perish and their memories will be forever forgotten. The issue that has brought this too my attention is of the utmost importance. There is a danger in this world that many young men and women and not aware of. This danger creeps up on you, it gets you at your weakest, your most vulnerable. I have written of this danger before, but in different contexts. Previously I praised the danger, now I condemn those who have let this creature out of its cage. The danger I speak of is the double black, with raspberry optional but expected. These highly sought after drinks were once the drinks of kings with mere men unable to afford such luxury items. With this pricing in place, many men and women were kept out of harms way as they drank only their pussy little basics. However, the world is a sick place and hence the price of this drink has been slashed to two thirds its usual price. What was $12 is now $8. A night with six of these, is a $24 saving. What kind of evil person would do such a thing?
As I am accustomed to the delicious red elixir, I have built up an immunity but many of these little boys and girls who have grown up on baby basics, can not handle the double black. Forget terrorism, forget women drivers, forget monkeys flying planes, the most dangerous problem in todays society is cheap double blacks. The alarm bells should be ringing, the warning should be in place. Only the manliest of men can survive the lure of the $8 double blacks.
As you read this, many of you may think that Sanchez has changed. But I do not write this blog for myself though, I write this PSA for you, my favourite reader. I am campaigning to protect you.
Personally, I am quite pleased with the reduction in price.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Self realisation
There comes a time when every man must look at himself in the mirror and assess his life. Is he making the right choices? Is he following the path he had set out for himself? Is he the man he always aspired to be? For Sanchez, this time will never come.
Every morning Sanchez Alfonso wakes up, applies his papaw and looks at himself in the mirror. His majestic blue-eyed gaze stares back at him. After about 30 minutes of this, Sanchez gets in the shower and his day begins.
On this particular day, Sanchez was going out. He had his pre drinks, got dropped in the city and was primed for a good night out when he heard the clicks of the cameras. The paparazzi had got word that Sanchez would be heading out tonight and they had come in the hundreds. Eager young photographers snapping their cameras in succession, trying to get the money shot. Sanchez brushed past them and thought he had found safety inside Fridays. He ordered his customary double black with raspberry and scoped the scene.
At this moment I would like to point out that most people have an inbuilt sense of danger, in that when they are about to do something stupid, they have a second where they think twice. Apparently Sanchez had left his at home. So when offered an ABC shot, he didn't think twice. He took it and chased it down with some double black. Delicious, yet dangerous!
He recieved a free double black from an old school friend and bought another when he bumped into his lift home.
"We are going" she said.
Sanchez didn't respond. Instead, he steadied himself as if about to say something wise and beyond his years. He slowly lifted his last remaining bottle of delicious pink alcohol to his lips and within 5 seconds, it was empty. He placed the empty bottle down, swayed on the spot for a second and then casually strolled down the stairs towards the car.
The following morning Sanchez awoke, applied his papaw ointment and looked at himself in the mirror. He had no recollection of his trip home and what he had done for half of his night. His phone suggested he had been unable to locate a friend for a good few hours, he had saved a news reporters number in his phone and finally, he had four of Fridays' 5owls stamps on his arm.
Now he stood in front of his mirror. Those dazzling blue eyes staring back into his soul. Did last night finally wake Sanchez up to the fact his life was drifting along in a world of booze, girls and public adulation? Did he really want to live his life knowing that he would be on the front of every gossip magazine in the country after his night out? Was there room in Sanchez's cold alcohol-filled heart for love?
I think not.
Every morning Sanchez Alfonso wakes up, applies his papaw and looks at himself in the mirror. His majestic blue-eyed gaze stares back at him. After about 30 minutes of this, Sanchez gets in the shower and his day begins.
On this particular day, Sanchez was going out. He had his pre drinks, got dropped in the city and was primed for a good night out when he heard the clicks of the cameras. The paparazzi had got word that Sanchez would be heading out tonight and they had come in the hundreds. Eager young photographers snapping their cameras in succession, trying to get the money shot. Sanchez brushed past them and thought he had found safety inside Fridays. He ordered his customary double black with raspberry and scoped the scene.
At this moment I would like to point out that most people have an inbuilt sense of danger, in that when they are about to do something stupid, they have a second where they think twice. Apparently Sanchez had left his at home. So when offered an ABC shot, he didn't think twice. He took it and chased it down with some double black. Delicious, yet dangerous!
He recieved a free double black from an old school friend and bought another when he bumped into his lift home.
"We are going" she said.
Sanchez didn't respond. Instead, he steadied himself as if about to say something wise and beyond his years. He slowly lifted his last remaining bottle of delicious pink alcohol to his lips and within 5 seconds, it was empty. He placed the empty bottle down, swayed on the spot for a second and then casually strolled down the stairs towards the car.
The following morning Sanchez awoke, applied his papaw ointment and looked at himself in the mirror. He had no recollection of his trip home and what he had done for half of his night. His phone suggested he had been unable to locate a friend for a good few hours, he had saved a news reporters number in his phone and finally, he had four of Fridays' 5owls stamps on his arm.
Now he stood in front of his mirror. Those dazzling blue eyes staring back into his soul. Did last night finally wake Sanchez up to the fact his life was drifting along in a world of booze, girls and public adulation? Did he really want to live his life knowing that he would be on the front of every gossip magazine in the country after his night out? Was there room in Sanchez's cold alcohol-filled heart for love?
I think not.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Sanchez vs. Crazed Feminist
Of all the enlightened and brilliantly charming words to have left Sanchez's mouth, none have such immediate effect as one quote from last night.
Sanchez was invited to a girls 18th. The party was 85% feminists and 15% guys. Surely you can see where this is going. Sanchez felt obliged to dress to suit the occasion, so in he walked to his 12 cruisers, 8 guava and 4 passionfruit of course, and a shirt that read, "Chick Magnet". It was not long before this shirt was being scrutinized by the small brains of the aforementioned feminists. A few of them decided to throw some chat at Sanchez in regards to his delicious taste in alcoholic beverages. Already primed for a battle, Sanchez pounced.
"Are you guys feeling homesick? Cause you've been out of the kitchen for a while"
"How did you get your master to unchain for tonight? Did you promise him a 3 course meal?"
The feminists took these blows heavily but valiantly battled on to say that men couldn't survive without women. Really? Did they really just say that? Yes. I quickly pointed out how ridiculous this comment was, as neither men nor women could survive without the other and that I was feeling a little hungry and I would like a sandwich. I had won the battle, but I wanted to win the war. I was overcome with guava cruisers and self-satisfaction, a dangerous mix. The queen on the feminists strode towards me, her eyes flickered to my drinks, she gave herself a small smile and whispered something to her friend. She laughed. I didn't.
"Why are you drinking girly drinks?" she asked with an evil grin on her face. Little did she know her world would soon be shattered.
"Because they are delicious", I replied.
"Yuuuuck!" She said, "Guava cruisers are disgusting!" It was like throwing gasoline on a fire.
...And then is happened, the words that would forever haunt this poor woman.
"I would sell my first born child for a carton of guava cruisers!" I told her, without skipping a beat.
She stood there, shocked, disgusted, and probably slightly turned on. Then she spun on her heel and walked off. I sat down next to a friend and said, "I almost feel bad"
"No you don't", he replied.
"Okay, you're right I don't" I laughed...
Sanchez was invited to a girls 18th. The party was 85% feminists and 15% guys. Surely you can see where this is going. Sanchez felt obliged to dress to suit the occasion, so in he walked to his 12 cruisers, 8 guava and 4 passionfruit of course, and a shirt that read, "Chick Magnet". It was not long before this shirt was being scrutinized by the small brains of the aforementioned feminists. A few of them decided to throw some chat at Sanchez in regards to his delicious taste in alcoholic beverages. Already primed for a battle, Sanchez pounced.
"Are you guys feeling homesick? Cause you've been out of the kitchen for a while"
"How did you get your master to unchain for tonight? Did you promise him a 3 course meal?"
The feminists took these blows heavily but valiantly battled on to say that men couldn't survive without women. Really? Did they really just say that? Yes. I quickly pointed out how ridiculous this comment was, as neither men nor women could survive without the other and that I was feeling a little hungry and I would like a sandwich. I had won the battle, but I wanted to win the war. I was overcome with guava cruisers and self-satisfaction, a dangerous mix. The queen on the feminists strode towards me, her eyes flickered to my drinks, she gave herself a small smile and whispered something to her friend. She laughed. I didn't.
"Why are you drinking girly drinks?" she asked with an evil grin on her face. Little did she know her world would soon be shattered.
"Because they are delicious", I replied.
"Yuuuuck!" She said, "Guava cruisers are disgusting!" It was like throwing gasoline on a fire.
...And then is happened, the words that would forever haunt this poor woman.
"I would sell my first born child for a carton of guava cruisers!" I told her, without skipping a beat.
She stood there, shocked, disgusted, and probably slightly turned on. Then she spun on her heel and walked off. I sat down next to a friend and said, "I almost feel bad"
"No you don't", he replied.
"Okay, you're right I don't" I laughed...
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
3 words we all want to hear...
There are three words everyone wants to hear. No matter who you are, where you are or what you are doing, these words will brighten your day. They will take the doom and gloom away and replace it with sunshine with the heavens. For some, they don't hear it enough and are left being jealous of those who do. For others they hear it too much and become bloated, and even dependent, on the warmth it brings to ones body. Luckily, Sanchez Alfonso has been hearing these magical three words since he can remember.
Of course, these three words are,
"It's drinking time!"
There are many reasons to drink; funerals, weddings, birthdays, weekends and boredom to name a few. But what really matters, is not the why, but the who with. And today's lesson in life comes from an experience Sanchez experienced when he was only 12.
At 12 years of age, Sanchez was an established drinker, recognised throughout his small village for his ability to down 14 cruisers in one night and still be able to clearly ununciate his displeasure with the final battle of Harry Potter 7. On one particular night though, he was drinking with a friend he hadn't seen since the removal of all gypsies from the village, in which his closest friend, Mannix Kieushaw, was thought to have been killed. However, Mannix had instead escaped with gypsies and grown up with them only to return to the village 5 years later.
Upon his arrival, Sanchez walked straight up to Mannix, looked him in the eye and whispered, "It's drinking time!" And thus, the night was launched. Two best friends reuniting over quite a few cruisers, it seemed like a scene from a movie. Unfortunately, there was no happy ever after. Soon after finishing his 14th cruiser and embarking on outrageous expletive-ridden rant about the final battle, Sanchez looked down at Mannix. He was shocked by what he was seeing. He had been betrayed! Mannix had returned to the village a different person, he was no longer the young boy Sanchez used to play pin the tail on the real donkey with. He was a monster. Sanchez was horrified, his fear froze him. A million thoughts going through his head, he could not be caught at this scene, the village people would cast him out along with Mannix. He did what any full grown man would have done, he turned and he ran.
Sanchez finally reached his shanty when he collapsed into his bed. He had never felt so alone, his oldest friend had betrayed one of the villages oldest rules. Punishable by banishment from the village, or being forced to do women's chores for a week. Needless to say, nearly all male offenders chose to be banished. The sight of Mannix was etched into his mind. He was sitting there, blissfully ignorant, sipping a glass of water. Water! Who drinks water whilst drinking? It went against human nature, it brought the act of drinking into disrepute! To this day Sanchez has never recovered from what happened, some say he never will...
Of course, these three words are,
"It's drinking time!"
There are many reasons to drink; funerals, weddings, birthdays, weekends and boredom to name a few. But what really matters, is not the why, but the who with. And today's lesson in life comes from an experience Sanchez experienced when he was only 12.
At 12 years of age, Sanchez was an established drinker, recognised throughout his small village for his ability to down 14 cruisers in one night and still be able to clearly ununciate his displeasure with the final battle of Harry Potter 7. On one particular night though, he was drinking with a friend he hadn't seen since the removal of all gypsies from the village, in which his closest friend, Mannix Kieushaw, was thought to have been killed. However, Mannix had instead escaped with gypsies and grown up with them only to return to the village 5 years later.
Upon his arrival, Sanchez walked straight up to Mannix, looked him in the eye and whispered, "It's drinking time!" And thus, the night was launched. Two best friends reuniting over quite a few cruisers, it seemed like a scene from a movie. Unfortunately, there was no happy ever after. Soon after finishing his 14th cruiser and embarking on outrageous expletive-ridden rant about the final battle, Sanchez looked down at Mannix. He was shocked by what he was seeing. He had been betrayed! Mannix had returned to the village a different person, he was no longer the young boy Sanchez used to play pin the tail on the real donkey with. He was a monster. Sanchez was horrified, his fear froze him. A million thoughts going through his head, he could not be caught at this scene, the village people would cast him out along with Mannix. He did what any full grown man would have done, he turned and he ran.
Sanchez finally reached his shanty when he collapsed into his bed. He had never felt so alone, his oldest friend had betrayed one of the villages oldest rules. Punishable by banishment from the village, or being forced to do women's chores for a week. Needless to say, nearly all male offenders chose to be banished. The sight of Mannix was etched into his mind. He was sitting there, blissfully ignorant, sipping a glass of water. Water! Who drinks water whilst drinking? It went against human nature, it brought the act of drinking into disrepute! To this day Sanchez has never recovered from what happened, some say he never will...
Friday, March 12, 2010
Sanchez and his Weapon of Mass Attraction
It is the manliest of habits. The meek can not handle it and only the strongest of men survive. It separates the boys from the men and it has been known to send some men crazy. It's a drug for the soul. Just the mere sight of it can send some men running. But while it sends men running from it, it brings women running to it. It is the ultimate aphrodisiac that, once used, attracts every woman in its vicinity.
What is this weapon that only the bravest of men can conquer and no woman can ignore, you ask? Well it is simple. It is Lucas' Papaw Ointment.
Yes, once this wonderful elixir is applied to your lips, there is no woman who can say no. Many have tried, and failed, to recreate the properties of this amazing concoction. It is the rarest of rare artifacts. Only few men possess this substance and even fewer are willing to use it. However, there is one man who is more man than the rest. He goes by the name of Sanchez Alfonso.
Sanchez Alfonso currently holds the world record for the most re-applications of the papaw ointment in one night on the town. It is said his record can only be beaten by a coma patient unknowing of what is happening, such is the strength needed. Where some men cower and run, Sanchez stands and applies. Sanchez wakes in the morning and before opening his eyes, reaches to his bedside table for his papaw ointment. Legend has it that one day the whole world was going to blow up unless Sanchez pressed a button in five seconds, Sanchez used 4 of those seconds to apply papaw ointment to his lips before pressing the button moments before the timer ran out.
It is a sight seen more than a girl cooking dinner, such is his religious application. On a Saturday night, you can find Sanchez out on the town with his boys. But after a few double blacks with raspberry to entice the ladies over and get them interested, he unleashes his weapon of mass attraction! It starts with a twist of the lid, then a gentle squeeze, once the product slightly protrudes from the container, a small swipe with a finger to collect is all that is necessary. With that same finger, the papaw is distributed finely, if not sensually, across his lips. As he rubs his lips together, his job is complete. The women come, not in ebbs or flows, but in torrential currents.
How much longer can Sanchez maintain this routine? No man has lasted this long without going crazy, but Sanchez seems to have built up an immunity. For now, we can only wish that we were all Sanchez Alfonso with his Lucas' Papaw Ointment...
What is this weapon that only the bravest of men can conquer and no woman can ignore, you ask? Well it is simple. It is Lucas' Papaw Ointment.
Yes, once this wonderful elixir is applied to your lips, there is no woman who can say no. Many have tried, and failed, to recreate the properties of this amazing concoction. It is the rarest of rare artifacts. Only few men possess this substance and even fewer are willing to use it. However, there is one man who is more man than the rest. He goes by the name of Sanchez Alfonso.
Sanchez Alfonso currently holds the world record for the most re-applications of the papaw ointment in one night on the town. It is said his record can only be beaten by a coma patient unknowing of what is happening, such is the strength needed. Where some men cower and run, Sanchez stands and applies. Sanchez wakes in the morning and before opening his eyes, reaches to his bedside table for his papaw ointment. Legend has it that one day the whole world was going to blow up unless Sanchez pressed a button in five seconds, Sanchez used 4 of those seconds to apply papaw ointment to his lips before pressing the button moments before the timer ran out.
It is a sight seen more than a girl cooking dinner, such is his religious application. On a Saturday night, you can find Sanchez out on the town with his boys. But after a few double blacks with raspberry to entice the ladies over and get them interested, he unleashes his weapon of mass attraction! It starts with a twist of the lid, then a gentle squeeze, once the product slightly protrudes from the container, a small swipe with a finger to collect is all that is necessary. With that same finger, the papaw is distributed finely, if not sensually, across his lips. As he rubs his lips together, his job is complete. The women come, not in ebbs or flows, but in torrential currents.
How much longer can Sanchez maintain this routine? No man has lasted this long without going crazy, but Sanchez seems to have built up an immunity. For now, we can only wish that we were all Sanchez Alfonso with his Lucas' Papaw Ointment...
Thursday, March 4, 2010
A beach trip, is there anyway this could end well?
After the antics of my 20th, I decided that I had done my fair share of drinking and Sanchez would take a hiatus from the addictive and delicious drug named alcohol. Could I last? Could I really deny the years of alcoholism his ancestors had brought before him? In a word, no!
One of my oldest friends, Christoph, was having his 20th. Now Christoph and I go all the way back to the small village where I grew up. They were side by side as a Mexican lady, who Christoph would later date, became the first women to eat twice her body weight in KFC. For Christoph's 20th, we were heading up to his beach house for two nights, um really Chris? You trust me? Ok, let's do it!
The esky was packed with 2 bottles of vodka and we were off, party time! The first night started slow, with many of the party-goers wanting to pace themselves. Not Sanchez! I didn't want a bar of this pacing yourself business, it was straight into the vodka and orange By the end of the night I was passed drunk, I was Sanchez Alfonso drunk! It was at this time someone suggested a maccas drive. Well you better bet your last buck that I was in that car before the sentence was finished! Now I have previously explained my run-ins with McDonald's drive thru's. Once again, I behaved as appropriately as I could. My recollection brings these exchanges to mind...
Sanchez: "Oi, do you have an cheeseburgers?"
Worker: "No, sorry we are on the breakfast menu!"
Sanchez: "Drop the attitude mate, have you got any shakes?"
Worker: "Sorry man, we are cleaning the machine"
Sanchez: "Are you serious? What kind of McDonald's s this, do you have anything in there? We are taking our business elsewhere biiiiiatcch!"
And we left without another word...
Once I securely had the McDonald's I craved in my hand, I slept well. Albeit on the hardest floor I have ever slept on. I was awoken in the morning by a terrible pain in my head. It felt as though I was Harry Potter and Voldemort was making love to me. After one of the worst hangovers in the history of mankind, it was time to do it all over again. But this time, we had an audience. The next door house, which was one of the richest houses I've seen, was full of girls getting ready to go out. As we watching them stroll from room to room in bras, the drinking games began. First up, boxhead!
There aren't many things I recall from this game other than the fact I had the box on my head and was breathing like Darth Vader and that a girl challenged my all-conquering knowledge of Harry Potter. We had a duel of Harry Potter knowledge and she walked away sorely defeated and I walked away screaming, "Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor wins!"
As the girls left for their party, we made our move. "Hey ladiesss" I called out in my most smoothest of voices. No reaction. They were rejecting me, that's funny! I'm Sanchez Alfonso! But after more drinking, the girls arrived home and invited us over. Well who are we to say no to these lovely ladies? However it was a trap, once inside, they sprang it that they were actually only 15. Now, Sanchez Alfonso doesn't mind an age gap in his ladies, but 15, not even he goes there. As I attempted a quick getaway, I saw a small passage in the ground that looked like glass over the top of water. As soon as I stepped on it I realised I was mistaken. There was no glass, just water. This is how I recall it...
My foot enters and the majority of my leg enters the water and it splashes everywhere.
Sanchez: "Fuuuuuck!"
Girl owner of the house: "What the fuck?"
Sanchez: "Fucking smoke bomb! Bail! I didn't do it, honest!"
I think I convinced her, and within a second I was back in Christoph's house drink my vodka and orange juices and being my usual charming self. Slowly night turned into morning and I recieved the following text from my parents,
"Tsunami warning for 8-9, stay away from the beach!"
I looked at my phone, then I looked out the window and saw the beach, "Unluckyyyy!"
One of my oldest friends, Christoph, was having his 20th. Now Christoph and I go all the way back to the small village where I grew up. They were side by side as a Mexican lady, who Christoph would later date, became the first women to eat twice her body weight in KFC. For Christoph's 20th, we were heading up to his beach house for two nights, um really Chris? You trust me? Ok, let's do it!
The esky was packed with 2 bottles of vodka and we were off, party time! The first night started slow, with many of the party-goers wanting to pace themselves. Not Sanchez! I didn't want a bar of this pacing yourself business, it was straight into the vodka and orange By the end of the night I was passed drunk, I was Sanchez Alfonso drunk! It was at this time someone suggested a maccas drive. Well you better bet your last buck that I was in that car before the sentence was finished! Now I have previously explained my run-ins with McDonald's drive thru's. Once again, I behaved as appropriately as I could. My recollection brings these exchanges to mind...
Sanchez: "Oi, do you have an cheeseburgers?"
Worker: "No, sorry we are on the breakfast menu!"
Sanchez: "Drop the attitude mate, have you got any shakes?"
Worker: "Sorry man, we are cleaning the machine"
Sanchez: "Are you serious? What kind of McDonald's s this, do you have anything in there? We are taking our business elsewhere biiiiiatcch!"
And we left without another word...
Once I securely had the McDonald's I craved in my hand, I slept well. Albeit on the hardest floor I have ever slept on. I was awoken in the morning by a terrible pain in my head. It felt as though I was Harry Potter and Voldemort was making love to me. After one of the worst hangovers in the history of mankind, it was time to do it all over again. But this time, we had an audience. The next door house, which was one of the richest houses I've seen, was full of girls getting ready to go out. As we watching them stroll from room to room in bras, the drinking games began. First up, boxhead!
There aren't many things I recall from this game other than the fact I had the box on my head and was breathing like Darth Vader and that a girl challenged my all-conquering knowledge of Harry Potter. We had a duel of Harry Potter knowledge and she walked away sorely defeated and I walked away screaming, "Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor wins!"
As the girls left for their party, we made our move. "Hey ladiesss" I called out in my most smoothest of voices. No reaction. They were rejecting me, that's funny! I'm Sanchez Alfonso! But after more drinking, the girls arrived home and invited us over. Well who are we to say no to these lovely ladies? However it was a trap, once inside, they sprang it that they were actually only 15. Now, Sanchez Alfonso doesn't mind an age gap in his ladies, but 15, not even he goes there. As I attempted a quick getaway, I saw a small passage in the ground that looked like glass over the top of water. As soon as I stepped on it I realised I was mistaken. There was no glass, just water. This is how I recall it...
My foot enters and the majority of my leg enters the water and it splashes everywhere.
Sanchez: "Fuuuuuck!"
Girl owner of the house: "What the fuck?"
Sanchez: "Fucking smoke bomb! Bail! I didn't do it, honest!"
I think I convinced her, and within a second I was back in Christoph's house drink my vodka and orange juices and being my usual charming self. Slowly night turned into morning and I recieved the following text from my parents,
"Tsunami warning for 8-9, stay away from the beach!"
I looked at my phone, then I looked out the window and saw the beach, "Unluckyyyy!"
Sunday, February 21, 2010
The big 2 to the 0
Riddle me this...Who am I?
My beginning is the end of start. My middle is a time of which something occurred. My ending is a type of shirt.
Ahhh riddles. They are everywhere. Life is really just one big riddle, getting into a girls pants is a riddle...fortunately enough, I'm very good at riddles. This particular riddle means more to me than the random 'whores', as they prefer to be known as, I pick up every Friday and Saturday night. This riddle holds the key to the story you are about to hear, so really, this blog is riddle within a riddle...
Who am I, I asked. The answer, and the underlying theme and excuse for my disastrous behaviour, is twenty. (t-when-tee)
Last weekend, I turned 20! I know I know, how have I kept my good looks shielded from the evil villain known as aging? Well, that is a story for another time. This story, however, has just begun. Of course, I am not exactly sure of my birth date, back in Mexico when I born, the birth registrar was two towns away and at that current stage our donkey was ill, and my sister, aged only 6, could not pull the carriage that far. She later learnt that the word 'no' is a terrible terrible thing.
As I believe last weekend to be my 20th birthday, I made my way into the city to celebrate with my friends. The turn out was great, but even more exciting than the turn out, was that with this many people, I surely would not have to pay for a drink. Upon enterring the building and demanding free entry as it was my birthday, which I duly recieved, I found myself showered in free drinks. This all makes for an entertaining and cheap night, but also a very drunk Sanchez. A sober Sanchez is ok, a tipsy Sanchez is a bloke you don't mind hanging with, a drunk Sanchez is hilarious, but a very drunk, absolutely sloshed, struggling to stand up straight Sanchez, wow, it's not a pretty sight. After finding my groove in very drunk Sanchez, the night moved along well with a few notable highlights. One, a certain female friend of Sanchez's passing out in toilet. Wow!
Another was the look on the bartenders face after she told me she couldn't find any raspberry for my double black. I quickly filled her in on the finer details as to why she should go find some more raspberry before she gets her ass fired and ends up working on the streets to put her kids through school. Needless to say she didn't go looking for raspberry.
With the night drawing to a close, very drunk Sanchez found himself fancying a bite to eat. With the cabbie pulling into a maccas drive thru, Sanchez was relieved to know that he was seconds away from a delicious cheeseburger. This is how the order went down...
Sanchez: Ummm, hi there, my name is Sanchez, I'll be your customer today, can I get a medium big mac meal (not for me), a large six nugget meal and a cheeseburger.
On the screen, everything came up except for my beloved cheeseburger. This is how I reacted...
Sanchez: Oi! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Oiiiii!
I did indeed get my cheeseburger, and it was delicious. So that just goes to show, persistance pays off. There you have it ladies and gentleman, Sanchez is 20, but with age does maturity come? I think not. A wise man once said, "Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger!"
My beginning is the end of start. My middle is a time of which something occurred. My ending is a type of shirt.
Ahhh riddles. They are everywhere. Life is really just one big riddle, getting into a girls pants is a riddle...fortunately enough, I'm very good at riddles. This particular riddle means more to me than the random 'whores', as they prefer to be known as, I pick up every Friday and Saturday night. This riddle holds the key to the story you are about to hear, so really, this blog is riddle within a riddle...
Who am I, I asked. The answer, and the underlying theme and excuse for my disastrous behaviour, is twenty. (t-when-tee)
Last weekend, I turned 20! I know I know, how have I kept my good looks shielded from the evil villain known as aging? Well, that is a story for another time. This story, however, has just begun. Of course, I am not exactly sure of my birth date, back in Mexico when I born, the birth registrar was two towns away and at that current stage our donkey was ill, and my sister, aged only 6, could not pull the carriage that far. She later learnt that the word 'no' is a terrible terrible thing.
As I believe last weekend to be my 20th birthday, I made my way into the city to celebrate with my friends. The turn out was great, but even more exciting than the turn out, was that with this many people, I surely would not have to pay for a drink. Upon enterring the building and demanding free entry as it was my birthday, which I duly recieved, I found myself showered in free drinks. This all makes for an entertaining and cheap night, but also a very drunk Sanchez. A sober Sanchez is ok, a tipsy Sanchez is a bloke you don't mind hanging with, a drunk Sanchez is hilarious, but a very drunk, absolutely sloshed, struggling to stand up straight Sanchez, wow, it's not a pretty sight. After finding my groove in very drunk Sanchez, the night moved along well with a few notable highlights. One, a certain female friend of Sanchez's passing out in toilet. Wow!
Another was the look on the bartenders face after she told me she couldn't find any raspberry for my double black. I quickly filled her in on the finer details as to why she should go find some more raspberry before she gets her ass fired and ends up working on the streets to put her kids through school. Needless to say she didn't go looking for raspberry.
With the night drawing to a close, very drunk Sanchez found himself fancying a bite to eat. With the cabbie pulling into a maccas drive thru, Sanchez was relieved to know that he was seconds away from a delicious cheeseburger. This is how the order went down...
Sanchez: Ummm, hi there, my name is Sanchez, I'll be your customer today, can I get a medium big mac meal (not for me), a large six nugget meal and a cheeseburger.
On the screen, everything came up except for my beloved cheeseburger. This is how I reacted...
Sanchez: Oi! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Oiiiii!
I did indeed get my cheeseburger, and it was delicious. So that just goes to show, persistance pays off. There you have it ladies and gentleman, Sanchez is 20, but with age does maturity come? I think not. A wise man once said, "Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger!"
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Respecting Sanchez, a necessity for women!
Once up a time, in a land far far away, a little boy by the name of Sanchez Alfonso lived his life in a way many others could only dream. It was the summer of 2010, he was young and impressionable but most importantly, he was Sanchez Alfonso. The name was known among men and women throughout the world. Everyday, Sanchez would wake up, look in the mirror, look up and down and say to himself, "So this is what perfection looks like..."
His life was one of fantasy, mystery and intrigue. On one particular day he walked the streets of his town. Everything was as it always way, women walked past staring at him and gasping, instantly orgasming and occasionally screaming his name at the top of their considerable lungs. Yes this was how Sanchez lived his life. But on this day, the most perculiar and astonishing - how should I say this? - phenomenom occurred. As Sanchez strode along the footpath to the sounds of orgasms and screams of his name, one woman walked past and looked him straight in the eye. He looked deep into her brown eyes, they almost invited you in, and she gazed straight back but suddenly, the connection was broken. She had rolled her eyes. A woman had rolled her eyes at Sanchez Alfonso...
Well I don't think I have to tell you that this is unheard of. And was Sanchez going to take this lying down? No sirry.
He spun on his heel, strode after he and when he reached her he spoke in his most dominant voice, "Excuse me miss, I can't help but notice that you rolled your eyes at me. May I enquire as to whether you know who I am?" She stood there, clearly unintimidated by this confrontation, and when she spoke it was with a cold sharp voice that cut straight through Sanchez, "Mr. Alfonso, I do know who you are and I think you are despicable!"
Sanchez smiled. He humbly said, "My apologies miss, I did not mean to be rude, have a good day." As he turned to go, he felt her reach out and grab his arm. He looked back. "I apologise Mr. Alfonso, it is that time of month, and you know how retarded us women get, and I should not have snapped. You truly are a great and humble man", she said.
Sanchez heard these words. He digested them, analysed them and finally, with all his wisdom, experience and humility he look deep into her eyes and said,
"Ha bitch! I'm not sorry! Sanchez Alfonso doesn't apologise to anyone. Now go make me a sandwich and be quick with it woman!"
And with that, he was gone. Does anyone know that feeling you get when you are the greatest human alive? Well obviously you wouldn't, Sanchez is the greatest. Well as he resumed his walk down the street, once more to cries of "Sanchez!" and orgasmic moans, that feeling was coursing through his veins. The woman now knew her place. He would sleep easy tonight.
His life was one of fantasy, mystery and intrigue. On one particular day he walked the streets of his town. Everything was as it always way, women walked past staring at him and gasping, instantly orgasming and occasionally screaming his name at the top of their considerable lungs. Yes this was how Sanchez lived his life. But on this day, the most perculiar and astonishing - how should I say this? - phenomenom occurred. As Sanchez strode along the footpath to the sounds of orgasms and screams of his name, one woman walked past and looked him straight in the eye. He looked deep into her brown eyes, they almost invited you in, and she gazed straight back but suddenly, the connection was broken. She had rolled her eyes. A woman had rolled her eyes at Sanchez Alfonso...
Well I don't think I have to tell you that this is unheard of. And was Sanchez going to take this lying down? No sirry.
He spun on his heel, strode after he and when he reached her he spoke in his most dominant voice, "Excuse me miss, I can't help but notice that you rolled your eyes at me. May I enquire as to whether you know who I am?" She stood there, clearly unintimidated by this confrontation, and when she spoke it was with a cold sharp voice that cut straight through Sanchez, "Mr. Alfonso, I do know who you are and I think you are despicable!"
Sanchez smiled. He humbly said, "My apologies miss, I did not mean to be rude, have a good day." As he turned to go, he felt her reach out and grab his arm. He looked back. "I apologise Mr. Alfonso, it is that time of month, and you know how retarded us women get, and I should not have snapped. You truly are a great and humble man", she said.
Sanchez heard these words. He digested them, analysed them and finally, with all his wisdom, experience and humility he look deep into her eyes and said,
"Ha bitch! I'm not sorry! Sanchez Alfonso doesn't apologise to anyone. Now go make me a sandwich and be quick with it woman!"
And with that, he was gone. Does anyone know that feeling you get when you are the greatest human alive? Well obviously you wouldn't, Sanchez is the greatest. Well as he resumed his walk down the street, once more to cries of "Sanchez!" and orgasmic moans, that feeling was coursing through his veins. The woman now knew her place. He would sleep easy tonight.
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