"I'm Going to quit drinking" he said

Last evening provided a trip down fraternity "memory lane" as I was introduced to a new aquaintance who proved to be 'troubled' at best.
The evening started out fairly shapely as I returned back to the apartment from a day long visit to the Getty Art Center (probably the coolest place I've visited in LA so far) The Getty is pretty much in Beverly Hills, so its just a quick trip down the 405, but I decided to be rock and roll and took Sepulveda home. It was on this Bohemian Rhapsody that I realized it was really friggin hot! I was sweating like a pistol in my swealtering un-air conditioned car, but thankfully the Getty is only about a 20 minute trip despite traffic, so I was home lickity-split.
When I arrived home I found that Norris had complied to my invitation for tennis, but due to my newly frocked frustration with the heat, we post-ponned our game play 'till around 8pm. I took a cat nap on the couch and at around 7:45 I hit the court.
The game was furious as always, with Norris edging me out for the second consecutive game. I left with my head held high however, (I know most of you probably find that hard to believe since I never legitimatly let Norris beat me at anything) and after a much-needed buddy conversation, I returned home to #206. On the way home I realized I had missed a call from Runge-saun so I chatted with him for about 40 minutes outside, just long enough to discover Norris coming home after his shower to hang out.
Norris and I walked in together only to find the apartment reaking of cigarrettes. When we asked Blade about the smell, he replied "They're smoking outside". I assumed he was refering to our neighbors downstairs so I thought nothing of it. When I went to place my keys on the table I was met by a extremely guady hand-bag. It was like a blend of hideous Easter like pastels in a generic plaid pattern. I honestly looked inside only to see if there might be a Cadberry cream egg, or some Jellies. Just then I heard laughing coming from the patio. It was then when Norris and I asked Benji in unison, "Someone's smoking on our porch?" Just then a fairly rediculous guy strolled through the patio door. He was typical LA college guy; blonde, cargo shorts, some sort of short-sleeved button down just a hair too small allowing his 'gut' to peak out each and everytime he reached upwards (which seemed to happen every other moment...I mean, how many times to you need to reach up?)
He was accompanied by some bird who I then realized was the rightful owner of the Easter Bunny's man-bag. We made some slightly akward introductions and I found out his name was Mike, and hers was something else (whooooo cares!) I realized an opportunity to work some new material, so I put on my game face and really worked the room. The bird was all over my game, which was good to know I still had the touch, but was lame because...let's face it, "Must be this pretty to ride" (not like that perv)
Blade decided to take Mike to in-and-out while I chilled out on the couch, took in some tele, and worked this bird just a little more. I guess she was kinda pretty, but not really 'up to par' so I wasn't exactly gaming on her or anything. We chatted for a bit and when Blade came back we popped in Million Dollar Baby to take the edge off.
Speaking of taking the edge off, Mike and the Bird had brought over some brews for some reason or other, but they were actually the only ones drinking(I kicked the habit, Benji was sick, Kuhns tired, and norris and jeff just don't roll like that) So Mike had a few in him when we turned out attention to Clint Eastwood.
Half-way through the picture the affects of Mike's consumption seemed to catch up with at an alarming rate. Mike, a man most of us did not know, walked into our kitchen and began going through our kitchen in search of food. I shot Norris a glance of, "I don't think so", and he replied with "Yeah". Mike asked if we had any food and we told him to come back and sit down. Ten minutes later Mike stood up and said, "I'm going to crash" and proceeded to walk down our hallway to the bedrooms. We all sat wide-eyed wondering if this was actually happening only to all turn to Blade almost in unison as a sort of way of saying, "Blade, get this guy under control." Blade again brought Mike back to the living room. Ten minutes later Mike returned to the kitchen, this time in search of what we believed he described as "juice", but again we told him to come back. By this time there was an akward air in the room as the bird sat there obviously embarrassed of her friend, while we all sat wondering how we were going to get this fool out of our place. Later Mike passed out on our carpet not before unleashing the spawn of hell in the form of Methane gas from some obvious digestive difficulties.
As the film came to a close, we began to turn out the lights, the tele, and all looked at the bird. She picked up the hint and sort of "dragged" Mike up off the floor and told him they were leaving. Mike looked about the room at our discusted faces and headed toward the door.
In standard, "I made a fool of myself in front of sober people fashion" Mike left Blade a message which simply stated: "I have a problem, I need to stop drinking."
Long live the Greek system and its ideals!