Jimmy Buffet: Margaritaville

Jimmy Buffet: Margaritaville

June 25th, 2011
Alpine Valley

        Saturday morning. Look outside, and it’s gorgeous out. So sunny, so hot, not a cloud in the sky. I was nervous, because the week before, it was raining and 60 out every day. I get out some eggs and bread, and make myself a bomb-ass breakfast. I was this close to taking a picture of my eggs, they were fucking majestic. (props to Sisler for teaching me his ways) I sit down and realize I don’t have anything to drink, so I head on over to the fridge and grab an ice cold Blue Moon. Do I dare? Fuck ya, lets do this shit. There’s only one thing to say in these situations…Buffet. Pop the top, and a crisp sound comes off as the carbonated water vapor smokes out of the top. Cut up an orange slice and toss it in there. Oh my lanta, it’s so delicious…favorite beer of all time. I sit down and have my own version of kegs and eggs as I watch Sportscenter.

        I shower up after the girls and as I’m just getting out, none other than Jimbo ‘Bnasty aka Big Germ’ Bernatz greets me. Ok, ok ok… now we go. Lets do this shit. We are packing the car with booze, food, booze, hula skirts, bag toss, booze, and… one lawn chair. Jim brought a 30 rack of Old Milwaukee. This is some hick-ass beer, these Buffet fans are gonna eat this shit up. Nice work Germ. We round up Phoebe and Lindsay and hit the road. I grab a road beer to make sure I can get a head start. We are in Lindsay’s convertible with the top down, and having a bottled beer is kind of sketchy. Whatever, im ballin. We stop at the grocery store to get a cooler and some ice. Jim and I go in there, and he has a coconut bra on, sexy. We get limes, a cooler, and just head to the cashier to pay for the ice. Jim is getting complimented on his bra and we are seeing other Buffeteers all over the place. (What is the Jimmy Buffet version of a ‘Taylor’??) We pay for a small bag of ice and then when we go to pick it up, we decide to take a big bag. Wow we are SO fucking rebellious, fuckin love stickin it to the man lol. We get back in the car and head on over to Alpine Valley. We meet up with Bri’s brother and his crew on the side of the road, and caravan to Alpine. We get harassed by a couple of bitch workers because we didn’t have a parking pass, fuck youuuuu (Fogul voice). We get preferred parking and we are real close to the entrance. Look down at my phone as we park the car. 11:15. What time does the concert start again?....8:00?? Ok this should be interesting.

        We get out of the car, Jim and I immediately take our shirts off and lube up with some suntan lotion. We bust out the margarita mix and some Pepe Lopez Tequilla. If you read my PCB drunk diary, you would know about my history with Senor Lopez. Make a solid margarita on the rocks, and then we introduce ourselves to everyone in Brandon’s crew There were 11 of them, mostly the Magills. I am meeting one of brandon’s good friends.

    “Hey nice to meet you, I’m Alex”

    “Hey, I’m Jim”

    “Really? Looks like we have two Jims”

    “Well you can call me James, Jim, Lamb…whatever”

        Wait… Lamb? Like a sheep lamb? Yep, like a sheep lamb. His name is lamb, or lammylamb, whatever works. Jim and I challenge Lamb and Brandon to a game of bag toss. We are smokin’ their asses 19-0, and somehow they end up coming back and beating us. Fuckin scrub status right there. Lamb and Brandon challenge the girls, while me and Jimbo toss around the ol’ frisbee. Just a couple of bros with no shirts on, throwing a Frisbee around at a Jimmy Buffet concert. NBD. I finish the last of my drink…need another one. We sit and drink, play games, chitchat with our neighbors and watch as the rest of the Buffet army fills up Alpine Valley. Look down at my phone. 12:05… wowzas. We watch people around us setting up their tailgate. Hooollly santa clause shit. These people to HAM - Buffet style. People were busting out tables and grills, homemade bars, decorations, the whole shhhebang. People even brought tablecloths, like who the fuck actually remembers to bring a tablecloth. Old people. I swear they must have been preparing for this concert for months. A few rows behind us, someone brought a gigantic inflatable cheese-head snowman. The thing was the size of an SUV, like who would want to put in the effort to do that, and then have to take it down….old people. They fuckin love that shit.

        We bust out the burgers and start making some grub. I’m going to need a solid base in me before I get wasted. We are conversing with everyone and Brandon and they are telling us that we HAVE to walk around. What could be so special about that? I bet people are just sitting and drinking to themselves. Do they really want fuckin lingerers trying to get their booze and food? Fuckin lingggerrerrss man. (Waller, you know what I’m talking about) My thought about that will be forever changed.

        After we get done eating, we sit around, drink more…obvi, and play games. We take a couple group shots, I toast my shot to Dexter, can’t fuckin wait for season 6. The Magills announce that we are going to go walk around. Brandon has a rolling cooler, so we toss a shit-ton of Old Milwaukee (I put it in italics because I feel like its more authentic and classy) in the cooler. We snag a couple of cozies and start walking. We are walking down the road between all the cars, and I see a whole crowd of people circled around something. ‘What is going on over there?? Fight? Free booze? Free food? The answer…none of the above. I find a viewing window through the heads and shoulders of the people and the first thing I see is this big-ol bitch licking whip cream off her tits. She has to be 60 years old, with these big saggy-ass tits. Ahhh that's grody. Just what I wanted to see. I just shrug my shoulders…Buffet.

        We keep on walking, there are games going on everywhere and we find this one game where you sit on a skim board that is on an axis in the middle, so they spin you and whatever color the skim board faces is the color booze that you get poured into your mouth. The old people just want to attract people and give away all their booze. Phoebe and Lindsay go on, and then Brandon and lamb go on together. We are watching Brandon and Lamb go, and then WACK!! I turn and Lindsay is holding her face, “What the fuck just happened?” Some chadbro comes over and starts apologizing for throwing a frisbee at Lindsay’s face. Why are you throwing a frisbee in a crowd of people? Do you have the IQ of a grape? She put her contact back in, laughed it off and moved on. She was being a trooper for taking that hit, but at least now she’s got a pretty badass black eye now...rebel.

        We walk to the next group of people which has a limbo going on and they are using bras strung together as the limbo stick. The girls do that as me and Jim dance with an old lady. We keep walking and come across this homemade bar that these two guys were chillin at. The one dude looked like he was straight out of Swamp loggers or Axe men. The start talking to Lindsay and Phoebe, “Show us yer tits and we’ll give yall a shot.” They both weren’t feelin it but I was chumming with the guy next to me, “I can show my tits, I don’t even have a shirt on. Could I just whip my junk out to get a shot?”

logger-“Nope. Doesn’t work that way buddy.” – One of the few disadvantages of being a guy.

        We keep on walking, and Jim and I are pounding Old Milwaukees. Just something about being outside with no shirt on, people watching, makes you want to put a cold beer down your throat. Walk, walk, walk until we see something that attracts us. There is a bunch of people around this spinning wheel that has the options of, “Show your tits, take a shot, or crowd’s choice.” Phoebe and Lindsay go up there hoping they are going to get some free booze. They spin the wheel…crowd choice. What would a bunch of horny old men want to see two young college girls do?? Hmm… tough one. Lindsay really didn’t want to show her tits, but Phoebe was all for it. 1..2..3. Wooo! A bunch of old men hoot and holler and Phoebe gives them a show. One guy next to Jim has his arms crossed and very casually says, “Hmm very orb-like. Nice.” He must be some sort of tit expert.

        To the yellow lot we go. We are stopped by a group of people playing flip cup. Jim and I try to get in on this game, but we have penises, so we are automatically not welcome. Watching the girls play flip cup, we pound more beer. I’m getting pretty shwasted by this time. After flip cup, we found these group of guys who were giving out Jello shots…and they actually handed one to me and Jim. Nice! Down the hatch. As we are walking around we are dancing and drinking with so many people. I had an epiphany: Old people fucking love us. That is it. We are college students who love to get fucked up and they want to reminisce from when they were in school, and want to show us how they ‘partied’ back in the day. I was thinking about it…what type of people go see a Jimmy Buffet concert. 1. people who like to drink 2. people who like to party 3. old people 4. people who like to smoke weed. I love doing all of those things, except doing old people, not really my thang.

        We hear some loud music playing in the distance, and it’s not Margaritaville, but techno and rap. We definitely should go over there. We find where this music is coming from, and it’s just a couple of bros with huge speakers, and 30 empty parking spaces for a dance floor. Lets stay and dance a little. We started dancing, and the music kept on rolling. There was one guy behind the ‘DJ booth’ if you will, and I was yelling at him… “Fucking Ice Cream Paint Job!” I turn to Jim. “Jim, how do you spell Dourough??” We both got a laugh out of that…classic. We are raging hard. Like real hard. More and more people are showing up which amplifies the intensity. I see out of the corner of my eye a dude dancing with a plastic horse mask on. My jaw drops. “Harry! Half man half horse boy… now that’s more of what I was looking for!” (Vaughaner- I know you’ll get that one- dumb and dumberer). I go over and dance around him, he’s not saying a word, I’m not saying a word, we just know that we are on the same page. I’m basking in the glory of his horse mask, and he is flaunting his mane. I’m spring dancing around him just staring at the mask thinking of how badly I want that horse mask. After about 10 minutes of dancing with seabiscuit, I look for something else. WWBD? What Would Bauer Do? He’d get that bow and arrow out, stalk his prey and go in for the kill of a nice 250lb hog. I find this real fine piece of ace, she’s a red head, about 210, skin whiter than a ghost. Prime. I stare her down and start dancing with her. She’s really dishin it to me and I’m taking it like a champ. I’m in the middle of a sandwich between Lindsay and Pumbaa (from lion king) just livin it up. Everytime Jim had a beer in his hand, Lindsay would snatch it, open it up, and soak everyone with beer. I keep dancing with the hog and she keeps staring at Lindsay like she was mentally asking permission if she could take me into the ladies bathroom of a Steak n’ Shake and rip me to shreds.

        After a good hour, we decide to give our rotators and calves a break from fist pumpin and jumping up and down. On our way back we meet some people who give us sringe shots and pudding shots. The sringe shots were gigantic and I squeezed it all in my mouth and I got a mouthful of slippery jello booze. Cough. The pudding shots, I was a little skeptical of but once I we tasted them, they were unbelievable. They kept giving us more, so we kept taking. Again...old people fucking worship us. The row ahead of our cars were taking beer bongs from an octabong so we all got our chance to get in there and get a beer bong or two in.

        Back to home base we head to re-up on liquor and food. Look down at my phone. 5:00, holy duck fuck, this can’t be. I fill up my cup with a little Red Bull and Vodka which is a refreshing taste after six hours of margaritas and beer. I was not getting tired of drinking at all. I have a problem. Once I start drinking, I just want to skip the buzz stage and go straight to wasted. We fry up some more burgers and some green beans (good call to bring those Linds) and keep drinking. An hour or two go by and we are prepping to go to the concert. I am looking for my ticket, Phoebe took mine and said she gave it back to me. I literally am searching the car for an hour and I can’t find it. I’m piss drunk and I always do this. I’ll either put something somewhere and not be able to find it, (like misplacing my weed, thinking someone stole it, and punching a 2’x1’ hole in the wall) or I will just straight up lose shit. When I am drunk, I tend to get violent, and angry quickly. I think my whole house in Madison knows that from previous experiences. I’m getting so pissed off that I can’t find my ticket, I need to let out my aggression. I am punching Lindsay’s seats as hard as I can…just giving this passenger’s seat an ass whoopin. I was just going HAM on that convertible. (Sorry Linds, Btw) I’m searching and searching and searching and I can’t find it. I look under the car. I just reach my hand out and skim across the grass hoping I will find this ticket. All of a sudden under the wheel well I feel a envelope. Shut the frump up!! (Sorry for such harsh words) I’m so relieved, but still so pissed off, I can’t just flip a switch from wanting to kill something to happy as dog with two dicks at a bitch fest. I snatch the bottle of Pepe Lopez, tilt it straight up and pound that shit for a good 5 seconds. Ok killer, easy down.

        Now that everyone has a ticket, we decide to go into the concert. We get in fine and I head to the beer line with LammyLamb. It takes 10 minutes to get through, each beer is 13 fucking bones, but I wanted to buy beers for having a temper tantrum on Lindsay’s cruiser. I get up there hand the guy my fake, he gives me 2 beers, I hand him my credit card and he says ‘we only accept cash.’ Well what the fuck!! This is bullshit. I don’t have any money…all my money is on this little plastic thing. Alright fuck it. Lets just get to a spot. We go about halfway down the hill and find a spot. About 3 minutes later, I see some familiar faces… “Hummell?? Shut the fuck up, how the fuck did we find eachother?” she was with Gilly and some other girls. What a small world. Probably 50,000+ people at this concert, and somehow…out of the entire lawn area Kelly walks right in front of us. Crazy shit right there marokey.

        We watch the concert, Phoebe and Lindsay go to the bathroom and only Lindsay returns. Jim is on the verge of passing out standing up…classic jimbo. The concert was actually awesome, I didn’t know many words but it was still a lot of fun. We stay until the encore and then we decide to leave. I hope we can find Phoebe, we don’t want another Charlie Seitz incident at Alpine Valley. We are walking back to the car and in passenger seat sits Phoebe just chillin like a cucumber. She apparently couldn’t find us, so she just went to the car and chilled there. The Thompsons and Magills had already left by the time we got to the car. We throw the top down and people are everywhere swarmed around the car like bees. I’m thinking to myself… “we were one of the first people in, that means we’re going to be one of the last people out of here.” Get ready for a 3 hour wait. Well this is going to suck.

        Out of the blue, some guy just yells at us, “You should take a left!” Lindsay pulls a loosy larry and we find this back path. We follow a couple of cars and literally in 5 minutes we are already out of Alpine Valley. That couldn’t have gone any better. We jam out on the way home and we get back to whitewater in no time. I look at my phone. 11:50. Wow, that’s incredible. We are pulling into Lindsay’s parking spot and Phoebe says, “Is that Kaarina?” What? Why and how would Kaarina be in Whitewater? Lindsay- “That’s definitely Kaarina.” Sure enough… Kaarina comes running over to our car asking how the concert was. We go upstairs to Lindsay’s place and chill there for a little bit. Kaarina and Sarah convince us to go downstairs to a party. I am so tired and drunk, all I want to do is sleep. Fuck it. Lets go. We head downstairs and there is maybe 10 people in there, 8 of them were bros. I didn’t give a fuck. Lets play flip cup. We play flip cup, blast music, drink, you know…usual party stuff. Some girl comes up to me and tells me that some dude tried to pass out in her bed and is now sleeping in the guest bedroom. ‘Was he a six foot drunk-ass blonde german? Does he have a yellow shirt on?’….yep….ahh i knew it.Jim. Germ always passes out in peculiar spots. Just don’t piss the guest bed. We leave and I find Kaarina and Lindsay having a UFC fighting match out on the lawn. After the match ends in Lindsay’s dress being ripped, we head upstairs.

         Lindsay, Phoebe, and I head into Lindsay’s room since her roommate was occupying the living room. I bust out the greenery. We blaze up, I start texting John from Phoebes phone and Lindsay brings in some ‘munchies’. Well munchies to a girl are much different than they are to a guy. Lindsay is having a salad and Phoebe and I are munch out on peanut butter and pretzels. I would have loved to have a za or some dank ass fruit snacks, but whatevs. Phoebe got too blazed and passed out on Lindsay’s bed. I climb on the couch and lay there. It feels so good to be off my feet; we’ve been on them since 11am this morning. As soon as I turn the switch to go to sleep, I think to myself, “Am I going to have to write a diary about this?? Probably.. All I know is I’m going to Buffet every year for the rest of my life.”

IU Little 500 - Race Day

IU- Little 500- Race Day

April 16th, 2011
MDP: Me

        I don’t wanna wake up, wake up…. I don’t wanna wake up, wake up. TGOD. I suddenly wake up to a thump, which I later learn that it was a soda can that almost hit me in the head. That would have been the pits if I woke up by blunt force trauma to my domepiece. I open my eyes and all I can think is three words….What the fuck?? I lay on the hardwood floor behind the couch with no blanket except a sweatshirt I used for a pillow. #college. My body hurts all over and this hardwood floor is not as comfortable as it was last night. I lay there limp like a paraplegic who fell out of his wheelchair for a good 20min, trying to fall back asleep. Almost everyone else is up, but I had a rough night sleeping on the floor; I didn’t have a nice comfy closet to sleep in like some others…Jim. I am in limbo between asleep, drunk, awake, and baked; Jesse pulls out the holy grail of books, I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. My secondary wake up was a little more pleasant. Jesse, Jim, and Davis are reading the best bro stories from the book, playing popcorn to trade off reading. Not only do we drink enough to drown a horse, but to cure our hangovers, we stimulate our brains by reading.

        It’s crazy… we are all straight-laced, go to school, do your homework, straight and narrow people during the week…but then the weekend rolls around….  I turn from Biomedical Engineer into Captain ‘Blackout wreckless shithead’, Jesse turns from Chemical Engineer into Sergeant ‘Blackout bro-king/retard’, Jim turns from Surgeon/Doctor into Private ‘Piss my pants & pass out standing up’ and Davis turns from Real Estate Agent into General ‘Squinty eyed, drunk munch machine.’ If you saw us drink on the weekends while we were in our prime… you would think, ‘these guys are fuckin’ retards.’ That one dude just tried to punch a hole in the wall and broke his hand… that other kid just passed out standing up and pissed his pants. Don’t forget about the other braindead creatures…one just blackout shotgunned a beer, yelled ‘AMERICA!’, crushed the can, fell flat on his face, and passed out. The other just went into the freezer, brought out an assortment of hot pockets, fries, hashbrowns, chili, and some meat…put it in a giant pot and tried to cook it.  

        Alright, I’ll get back to the story instead of talking about how fucking baller we are. I get up and take a shower… wow that felt so frumpin’ good. After I put on a fresh pair of slacks and chill hoodie, I bust out the ‘white crisp’ Franzia. John and I play some FIFA while sippin’ on some wine out of some plastic pizza-X cups. #classy. I was thinking that maybe we should just have our own race. Let’s just have the tour de Franzia instead of the little 5. John told me that Mother Linda from downstairs woke him up this morning to clean the alley. #bitch…clean it yourself. I’m sure that alley was lookin’ real prime in the morning. Shotgunned brewskis everywhere, champagne bottles and tops, peanut butter pretezels, and I neglected to even use the actual bathroom; every time I had to piss… it was off the balcony. After about two 8oz. glasses of the wine, I was feeling tipsy. Looks like it’s going to be a shampoo-drunk kind of day. (Shoutout to my boy for that one, RMD) John and I get tired of playing video games, so we decide to take the bag of wine out of the box and play a little shlippity slappity bag. We go around slappin the bag… and before you can say ‘pickle’ it’s gone. (not sure why I picked ‘pickle’, but fuck off).

        We do our usual activities of flip cup, relay, beer-dice, beer pong to get sufficiently drunk. John and I mixed in a few bong rips, which will ultimately get me crunk enough to make Lil Jon proud. YYEAAHHH! We are playing pong and dice, and then John’s frat bros and hoes come over. We play games with them, and I keep drinking. Except… I thought I had the stamina like I did yesterday. Let’s just say from this point on, which is 11:00am, that I am pretty greyed out…and it only gets worse from there. We ripped a couple of shots in preparation for our departure to the race. The weather outside was freezing and raining. Now, logical sober me would say, ‘I’m going to need a coat, it’s going to be cold out’…. But drunk me said, ‘fuck it. I don’t need a coat, who needs a fuckin coat… jst give me anotha shot!’ I was crotching two water bottles of booze on the way there; I probably volunteered myself… moron. Mother nature was being a real bitch that day, and when your wet and cold, you’re fucking miserable. Except… when your drunk, you’re just happy to be drunk, and then you think about being cold. John takes us on the scenic route to the race, which was a country mile,. John was like Moses walking us aimlessly through the desert… it felt like 40 years.

        Right before we got to the race, I told John to carry in one of the bottles of booze. I handed it to him and he just put it in his pocket. When we got to the gate the lady just looked down at him, saw half the bottle sticking out, and immediately asked for it. Of course John didn’t try to fight back or resist… he just put his hand on his hip, put a grin on his face, and just mutters, ‘hmm hmm hmmm….ya caught me.’

        The lady took it and threw it in the garbage. Drunk me did not want to see any alcohol go to waste, so I kept trying to get the bottle out of the garbage. Probably not a smooth idea. We get into the race and Jesse has somehow managed to get lost. We find a spot in the bleachers where we are isolated, because we know ourselves too well and we will be a distraction to everyone. When you’re walking, the weather doesn’t effect you as much, but when you’re standing still, it really gets ur nips hard. More booze…that’ll take care of being cold. Well, with a dozen people and one water bottle, that shit went down faster than a bucket of chicken at a new Tyler Perry movie.

        The race was very interesting for about 10 min…then it got repetitive. It was a big circle dirt track like something from a horse race. There were probably 30 teams and each team had 4 racers on it. They had to go 200 laps, and by lap 10…I was bored. At the beginning of the race you could tell who was in the lead, but after a while, everyone was dispersed around the track…so you would think that the guy who is cruisin by himself is either in the lead, or he fucking sucks and is trying to catch up; it was impossible to tell. It probably would have been much more fun if it was nice and sunny out. All of a sudden, out of the blue, Jesse ‘I’m tanked’ Frank somehow manages to find us. He had those squinty, slanted drunk eyes on, and I just looked at him and nodded. Cuz I knew we were both on the same terms… a 0.2 BAC. He had a big bag of kettle corn in his hands. I asked him where and how he got it, and he just replied, “I got that shit….fo free.”

Needless to say, we stole the bag of popcorn from him and inhaled it extremely quickly.

        Sorry Frank. We stayed at the race for an hour or so, my alcohol blanket faded away and I was now just cold and drunk. We get out of the race and remember that the walk was another 25 minutes to get home. Effin’ a cotton. I just want to be home and warm. Frank and I looked at each other and concurred that we should just run home. Boom – off we went. Best decision 2011. Not only was it much faster, but it was a lot warmer running than walking home like it was the fuckin’ trail of tears. Once we took off, we didn’t stop until we got home. When we got there we just sat down on the couches and chilled real hard until the other chadwicks got back, which was an hour later because Jesse and I run faster than Kenyans.

        When every one got back, hunger sat in. John ordered some extreme ass pizzas, which was great…thanks John if I forgot to tell you thank you before. I don’t even remember if I ate any of it…probably because I was rippin’ bowls in the back room with John and totally forgot about the pizza. I do remember someone saying there was pizza and all I could think of was, “When the fuck did we get pizza!” (The Ringer- quote movie drop…boom)

        Time passes by as we drink, but all the beer is gone so we end up just drinking hard alcohol. Ooo that’s a bad idea. We drink and play video games and other games that get us fucked up. Classic. Right now we are headed into the classic ‘blackout out and don’t make it out of the house’ night. John springs into action and says we are going bowling. We take a shot or 7 before we leave, like always. I’m going to say at this very point… I have almost zero recollection of what actually happened for the rest of the night. I have small flashbacks, but for the most part…I have no clue what happened. I had to use my other Taylors as resources to complete this story.

        We walk to the IU Union where the bowling alley was, get our bowling shoes, and put them on. Except Davis’ shoes were the wrong size… very wrong. He had gotten size 19 bimbo the fuckin’ clown shoes. We were bowling and whatnot, until blackout me had a brilliant idea. I was up next to bowl and I brought the bottle of Admirals along for the ride. I pick up the ball with my right hand, take a pull with my left, bowl a fuckin’ strike, and take another pull, and walk it off. TAYLOR GANG OR GET A CLEVELAND STEAMER FROM ROSIE O’ DONALD!! I should have had ‘Boss’ branded on my forehead after that performance.

        Everyone was getting drunk…again and we had finished our last game of bowling. Everyone returns their shoes…except for Jim. He needed a fresh pair of kicks and these bowling shoes were lookin pretty fly. John said he knew of this party that was at the ‘Skier house’. We walk on over there and are climbin up in the trees, wrestling, you know…just drunk bro shit. If it’s dumb, childish, or a bad idea…you can guarantee I will try it when I’m wasted. Jim was climbing the trees when his pants got stuck and ripped from the zipper in front all the way down the side of his leg. This Taylor was looking like a boss. He had boxer briefs on, so through his ripped pants, he was rockin’ a nice bulge, and to top it off… he had bowling shoes on. He doesn’t always go out partying…but when he does…he prefers to have a petruding bulge with ripped pants and bowling shoes…Stay Taylored my friends. (Dos Equis anyone? You didn’t think I could pull it off… but I did)

        We get to the Skier’s house and apparently there was almost nobody there. (this is probably the worst and longest blackout I’ve had) We quickly find the table where beer game are played, and line up. John pays the guy like $60 for all of us to drink, thank you twice J-bone. We start grabbing beers on beers on beers from the fridge and set the table for some flip cup. This is what I was told in the morning by others: every game we would be playing, I wouldn’t be paying attention. It would get to my turn, everyone would start yelling at me…I’d casually point across the table, say ‘Fuck you’…pound my beer, and one-flip-it…every time. Bro-king. I usually am not that big of a stud at flip cup, but I guess that’s just the power of being blackout off of the finest Kentucky whiskey…Kessler’s. It’s smooth as silk…it says it on the bottle if you don’t believe me. But you better believe me…bitch. I don’t know why, but I was apparently trying to pick Katie Carr’s nose while we were playing. Retard-king.The game went on, and more people were showing up and were interested in playing flip cup with us. A couple of bros were positioned straight across the table from Chris and me…wrong move jobin. This is how I introduced myself, “Hi, my name is Alex…this is Chris… we’re here to dominate you.” Blackout-king.

        I bet whenever Jim was introduced to people by John, they thought he was straight from the looney bin. Picture this kid introducing himself as he’s drunk as a skunk, wearing bowling shoes, and his pants ripped all the way down the inseam and his junk is just chillin real casually. Wanna be a baller? Talk to Jim Bernatz. Jesse was getting real Tucker Max. He convinced a girl to take a beer bong even though she didn’t want to. She fucked it up, and she was cursing at Jesse along with all her friends. Jesse’s response: “fuck you bitch, I don’t care, I’m going to a frat party.” In the kitchen, Davis, John, and Jim were taking shot of Nyquil and protein. That sounds like a terrible mix: PBR beers, Nyquil, and whey protein sloshing around in their stomachs. Kelsey decided to pull a prank on the houseowners and literally turned everything upside down in the kitchen. I bet they woke up in the morning real pissed. Hohoho shit Kelsey got you good you rookie fucker.

        Another little story I heard from le bebe was that I was getting violent with him. He said I would keep trying to play ‘Mercy’ with him and I wouldn’t stop until I was hurting him. He said that Davis had to come in and rescue him several times, but then I would just try to play ‘Mercy’ with Davis. Again… I’m a drunk shithead.

        I have no clue how we ended up going from the skier’s house to John’s frat house. This is all I can tell you from the frat house… there was an island bar in the middle of the living room, and I kept talking to the bartender getting shots. That is it. I think it was hardwood floor, but I could be wrong.

        The next thing I know, I am back at John’s place feelin’ like shit. I’ve basically been drunk since noon the day before, so almost around 36 straight hours. Lattteerrr brain cells, I’ll catch you on the FLip side. We stay up for a little longer, and Tommy comes over. He’s got some Zas and breadsticks. He is walking around and he all of a sudden I hear, “Not again hahaha!” I run on over to the halway, where we find none other than Jim passed out in his secret spot…the closet. Tommy shoves a breadstick in his mouth and he awakes with a real confused look on his face.

        The night comes to a close, and I find myself on the long couch sprawled out as my system starts to shut down. I can’t help but smile because I am thinking about how much fun I had this weekend. I remembered a quote that describes this weekend perfectly, “I live for the nights I can’t remember, with the people I’ll never forget.”

IU Little 500 – 2011

Cast: Abomb, Jim, Jesse, Kevin, Phoebe, John, Kelsey, Tyler, TK, Piff, Korey, Corey, Chris, Tommy, Kate, Katie….and of course - Tejas

Ice Cream Paint Job- My first Drunk Diary

Drunk Diary

-Ice Cream Paint Job-

Saturday , August 29th, 2009

MDP (Most Drunk Player): Kyle Vaughan

        The night started off with Waller and me watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Great movie, but by the time it was done, it was already 10 oclock. I get a text that we are pre-gaming at Vaughan and Jesse’s dorm. I grab a bottle of good ‘ol Fleishmans, and we don’t hesitate to pregame for the pregame at Ogg. We knock on the door as if we are cops, and surprise them. We walk into the room, the smell of alcohol fills our nostrils. Vaughan is in his piss-yellow boxers with a white tee on and his eyes are bloodshot as hell, and doesn’t even acknowledge us as we walk in the door. He’s too busy stanky leggin and dancing. Jesse and Jim run up to me and proceed to try to tell me without laughing that Vaughan is going to eat soap.

    “Vaughan, you won’t eat the foaming soap….you wont do it.”
    “You wanna fuckin bet.” Down the hatch it goes.

        He had foam overflowing his mouth and he decides that shaking his head violently would help. Shot after shot, I get happier and more in the mood to go out into town. I meet a couple of guys that Davis brought. (not such a good idea) Jim tells Vaughan that playing “hidden turtle” would be a fun game.
    “Give us a little Trident there Vaughan.”

        Vaughan tries to dig around and find one nut, but slips and out come the package. Limp dick is overflowing the piss yellow boxers. Everyone burst out laughing, as kyle tries to realize what he has done. By the way, next morning kyle doesn’t remember anything past 10 o’clock. Kyle climbs up onto the lofted bed because…..its kyle, who knows what goes through his mind. He gets bored up there, so instead of climbing down the ladder, he thinks jumping is a better idea. Vaughan jumps from the tall lofted bed to the hard floors, and sure enough, he doesn’t fail to keep the tradition alive of hurting himself every night. Vaughan lands on his feet but somehow manages to hurt his knee/thigh. Kyle hits the deck and is whinning that his leg hurts real bad. I try to stretch his dumbass out but it doesn’t work.

        Davis’s retard of a friend he brought to Ogg decides that he should be belligerent drunk as well. I’m not sure how many he’s had, but it was plenty for him to do something retarded. He climbs up the same lofted bed that Dumbass #1 hurt himself on. He is sitting with his legs hanging over the bed. He also thinks that it would be smart to jump off the bed instead of climbing down, because hes a retard from Middleton that didn’t learn from Dumbshit #1. He jumps off the bed, and somehow on his way down, kicks out the T.V. from its stand. This is an older T.V. that is pretty heavy. A heavier TV dropping face first onto a hard floor from 3 feet, will not survive. The loudest sound of breaking glass I’ve heard. Jaws drop as people scurry out the room. Jesse picks up the t.v. The whole screen is cracked and broken. Nice work Dumbshit #2. As people leave, Vaughan decided that he needs to let loose and he thinks he should use his head as a battering ram. Full speed head butt into a wall would do the trick. BOOM! Vaughan turns back and there’s blood spewing from his head. I head for the elevator, this is trouble. I wait for the elevator with Davis and Waller, and decide that I should help them considering no
R.A. has woken up or knocked on their door yet. As I walk back to their room, I find Vaughan sitting in the middle of the hall. I sit next to him and notice that he has not failed one of his other drunken habits…crying.

    “Vaughan, dude whats up? Why you cying?”
    “Its..fuc shit man. Jim, itz it its fuckin jim.”
    “What did Jim do to you?” I say sincerely.
    “Fuck, Fuckin T.V. Fuckin Jim.” Kyle thinks that Jim was the one who broke his TV.
    “Jim didn’t break your TV.” Vaughan was too stubborn drunk to realize anything I was saying, still thinking Jim broke it.

        Vaughan stands up and walks into the room. I explain to Jim how Kyle thinks the he broke kyle’s TV. I have to hold Vaughan back cuz he has a look in his eye that he’s gonna take a swing. We put shoes on kyle and some pants.

        We head out on the town to share our drunkenness with other fellow drunk badgers. Somehow we lose Vaughan in the midst of walking like half a mile. By this time, mostly everyone is pretty drunk. Im forgetting about an hours worth of stuff that happened but stay with me here.

        It’s Me, Jesse, Jim, Mike Bernatz, his gf, and Mike’s friend. All the older kids want to go to a bar. I’m like “Fuck ya lets do this. Shit, wait I don’t have a fake to get in.” By the way, everyone else has a fake or a real ID. Fuck this man I want to go to a bar. We walk up to the “Vintage” bar. Looks kinda cheesy but hey, they might let me slide. Mike and his crew all get in, because they actually are of age. Next goes in Jim, who has Mike’s old ID, so we had to have a little delay time between ID’s. Jesse and me were standing on the corner across the street from Vintage with two other bitches that we have no idea who they are. We talk to them for like 10 min about…..i don’t know, fuck its hard to remember everything. Jesse tells me the plan of how we’re getting in. Jesse, who has Mike’s old old ID, somehow manages to get by the half-retarded bouncer. So that’s 3 of the “same” people who got into the same bar within a half hour. Jesse walks out to the courtyard and slips me the “Mike Bernatz, 6’03’’, 210lbs ID.”

        “Fuck this will never work. I’m like 5’9’’ 160.” Somehow I have to grow half a foot and gain 50 pounds. I look at the address to try and memorize it and I got it down pat. I stand on my tippy toes as I walk across the street. I’m already so drunk that I really don’t give a shit what happens. I walk up to the bouncer and give him my ID. Takes a look at it for honestly maybe 1-2 seconds and gives it back to me. HOLY SHIT THAT WAS EASY. Probably only works at Vintage. I walk up to everyone, and they are shocked that I got in. And…Boom goes the Dynamite. I start pounding these $1 drafts of something. Who cares, it’s $1. This DJ is playing shitty music. I walk up to him.
    “ICE CREAM PAINT JOB.”
    “WHAT!!??”
    “ICE CREAM PAINT JOB!!”
    “ICE …WHAT?!”
    “FUCKIN ICE CREAM PAINT JOB YOU RETARD!!”
    “Ya I’ll look.” What a fuckin joke this guy is.

        Maybe this guy knows how to read. “Hey Jim, how do you spell Dorrough??” I type in Ice Cream Paint Job by Dorrough in my phone. Walk up to the guy and shove my phone in his face.
“YA Ya I GOT IT.”

        Ya fuckin right. It’s been 20 min and this guy still hasn’t played my fuckin song. I’m gonna kill this dumb piece of shit. I do this repeatedly like 3 times and the guy won’t listen. Fuck it.

        We pound beers for a couple of hours. I’m hammered. Apparently everyone said they were leaving. I stayed for some odd reason. I drank a couple of beers and left the place. Shit. How the hell do I get home. I look to my right, and see about 20 yards away in a beer stained polo, none other than Kyle Vaughan. OMG yes! He’s with mike his next door neighbor. We go to some restraunt. I hit the pisser, and realize I don’t feel so good. Out come a shit ton of beer. I wipe my mouth and walk out. Fuck I can’t see straight. Kyle keeps yelling at the cooks.

        “THIS ISN’T WHAT I ORDERED!!” I sat down in a seat and tried to stare at one single object. My eyes won’t allow me to do that. My eyes keep moving up and down, left and right. I cant control it and its making me dizzy. Fuck I gotta start moving or something. I just run out of the place without a warning. I look around and start to walk back to my dorm about a half mile away. I cross the street and someone is calling my name. “what the fuck is going on, is someone dangling me?” Waller runs up to me with Sisler. “Abomb. What the fuck is up?” Apparently I wasn’t phased by his presence. He told me the next day I kept singing Ice Cream Paint Job. They walk me back to my dorm, and I’m having trouble walking a straight line. Fuck, Fuck act normal. I walk up to my dorm room. Try to close my eyes on the futon. The spins come immediately. Shit I gotta get some of this alcohol out of my system or im not gonna be able to sleep. I walk to the bathroom and make myself puke. About three gallons of puke later I feel better. I climb into bed and hit my head on the pillow. “God I can’t wait till I’m sober, this fuckin sucks.” Lights out.

IU bros and hos

all of the peeps, a photo by abomb2191 on Flickr.

The Litte 500 Weekend

April 15^th, 2011

Bloomington, IN

Day 1

        Where do I start this story? There was so much build up, I could have started writing this diary on Monday. I’ll start it Thursday when the trip starts.

        It’s Thursday afternoon and its time to get hyphy. The Engineering Expo was going on and so my Thursday and Friday engineering classes had been canceled, suck it business majors. I sat around the T.V. playing NHL 09 with Jesse when I get a call. It was an employer from Rockwell Automation that wanted to have a phone interview. The interview went well, and it was the very last thing I had on my agenda before the little 500... crossing my fingerssss. Jesse and I started getting real stoked; we were playing NHL 09 with the music turnt all the way up, and a couple of mixers to start the weekend off right. We sat there discussing what the fuck the little 500 was. I’ve been told it’s a bike race, but what type of bike race? Is it just drunk frat and sorority bros/broettes racing in it? Can anyone race in it? Should I bring my bike? Is it like supposed to be for midgets, as in the little people 500? We discussed this for some time. We packed up our bags and waited for Jimbo and Davis to come and pick us up. It was around 8:00pm when we got in the car and headed back to Hartland. We stopped at Johnson Creek, but didn’t get anything. We then headed to the Pick ‘n Save in Oconomowoc because we wanted to get food and some booze so we didn’t have to eat out all the time or eat all of John's food. We sat in the parking lot of the Pick ‘n Save and discussed what needed to get…the essentials.

        Jim “We need to get Bombay Saphire.”   Obvi… if we are seeing Wiz Khalifa, we definitely need to be Bombay sippin’, big joint rollin, plus... John likes gin.
        Davis “We need to get at least two cases of beer.” Good good keep the list rollin.
        Me “I think if we each pitched in $20 for booze, that’s $80 for alcohol, that should be good.”
        Jesse, “We should also get champagne. And we should get food like bread, PB & J, chips, you know… shit like that.”

        Neato gang. Super dooper. Great list. We walk into the Pick ‘n Save, look at all the produce and then just stop. We look at eachother and Davis says,  “Wait… Jim, Abomb, and I all are going home. Why don’t we just pantry raid all our houses?”

        We look at each other, shake our heads and immediately agree. yep. To the booze section. We grab a cart and start going down the first booze aisle… first on the agenda, Bombay. Jim grabs the bottle of 1.75 Bombay and all of our hearts drop.

        Me “$42 for Bombay???…shit that’s a lot of cabagge.”
        Jesse, “I hate gin. Does anyone like gin?”
        Me, “I fuckin’ hate it.”

        We all look at each other. yaaa. Ok. No Bombay. Sorry John, but we are college students on a tight budget that consume mass amounts of alcohol…copious amounts. We buy cheap booze, get used to it. We walked through the aisles and grabbed the essentials… bottle of Admiral Nelsons, Bottle of cheap vodka, and a bottle of whiskey. Davis and I each grab a case of Milwaukee’s Best, because….well it’s the best. Jesse grabs four bottles of Andre champagne, one for each of us, because bros love poppin’ champagne, especially when Wiz Khalifa does it, and you're Taylored the fuck out. BTW if you don’t know who Wiz Khalifa is, or...you don’t know what a ‘Taylor Gang’ is, or ever goon dripped… you should probably go to a psychologist and ask him why you've had you head up your ass for the past 5 years.

  We look at the cart and decide that we can drink all of this easily. We grab another case of Beast, a box of Franzia, and six Smirnoff Ice’s. Frank and I take up everything to the register and it comes out to $115. Wo.

        Lets review the difference between our intentions before we got to the store and when we actually got into the store. We went in there wanting to get food and booze. Right off the bat, we threw food out the door. Food? Fuck no, I don’t need food, what I really need is another shot to the dome piece so I can kill more brain cells…ya, that’s the type of people we are. Fuckin awesome people. Our number one thing to get get booze-wise, was Bombay Saphire… fuck that, too much money. Ok well did we stay within budget? Wrong again, we wanted to spend $80… the total was $115, I guess the only thing you can say in this situation is… ‘Taylor Gang or Die’.

        We all go home and we decide that we will leave for Indiana at 5:30am because it would take a net 8 hours to get there, and we would get to Bloomington at 1:30pm. Another one of our ridiculous thought processes. The concert started at 6:00pm and we thought that we needed to have at least 4 hours to get blackout drunk. I only drink at one pace, I will not stop, so 4 hours should put me at something greater than 0.20 BAC. I <3 drinking.

        I get back home and at around 12:30 that night, I get a text from Frank, ‘We’re leaving at 4, set an alarm.’ Apparently 4 hours to get wasted is not enough time. Looks like my BAC will be in the mid to high, 0.2’s.

        I wake up after about three and a half hours of sleep but I’m so stoked to get to Indiana I am not even tired. We didn’t play anything in the car except Wiz Khalifa. Let’s just say we love Mr. Khalifa. The whole ride we were reading I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell by Tucker Maxx.  We were getting in the asshole, cocky, bro-king mode from reading this.

        We end up in Bloomington around 11:30am. We are dedicated. We roll past John’s house and we all were like, “Is that a church? John lives in a church?”. That can’t be…he’s a Jehovah witness. Turns out, the bottom flat is a creepy church, and the top half is for the IU bros. We walk up to John’s house and ring the doorbell but nothing happens. I call John, no answer. Typical. I talked to him 10 minutes before we got there, yet now he won’t answer. Ohhh John. I call him a couple more times but no answer. About 5 minutes later I get a call from Johnny and he tells me he will be right down. We took a Smirnoff Ice and put it right on the doorstep, in front of the door and hid and waited for John. He comes stumbling out looking all around for us but has no idea where we are and no idea that there is an Ice right next to him, he had the classic John clueless face on. We let him try to figure it out for a good 30sec but he had no idea. We come out of hiding and greet him. He still had no clue there is an Ice next to him. Fail. They don’t understand the whole concept of Iceing. When we got into the crib we Iced Tyler Gang aka T-miller aka Tyler Miller by waking him up with that sweet nectar in his face. They both just set their rams piss down next to them. They raged hard the night before so they were still hungover as shit. The house was a mess from last night’s rager they had. We put all our shit down and start cleaning the whole house. Jim and I were a tag team duo that did the dishes better than your Mexican cleaning lady. We cleaned everything up and decided that we should get a good base in us before we get tanked. I hadn’t eaten yet today so I was fuckin’ starving. Well, Jesse and I were a little antsy, so we decided to shotgun a Milwaukee’s Best (not light… the potent one with 5.9%abv). It didn’t go down so well… should have waited for breakfast. Fail-tastic.

        We walk to a nearby diner and it’s cold and raining out; John said that every day this week has been so nice and today and tomorrow are supposed to be shitty. Great. Oh well, this whole weekend I will have an alcohol blanket the size of a parka, so I shouldn’t feel myself slipping into hypothermia. We get to the café and I ordered I gigantic omelet, which I devoured, and then I ate the rest of John’s pancakes.

        We walk back to John’s house and we crack open the cases. We set up the beer pong, beer dice and start pounding in-between. John tells us he needs to turn in a Spanish paper at 2:30pm so I go with him to turn the paper in and also get other shit like tickets, rolling papers, lighters, weed, you know… just the necessities.

        We come back to the house and we get back to doing what we do best, drinking. We play beer dice and beer pong, but not everyone could participate... so we decided to play flip cup.  We’re all in John’s kitchen playing flip cup on a folding table with the famous pizza X (the X is for EXTREME) cups with crushed keystone and beast cans scattered on the table.  Within a half hour of playing flip cup, case number 1 is down the drain. Shit. We bust out the next case and finish up playing flipity cup. We then moved onto a team game, don’t remember what it was called, but it was a relay and our team was dominative, I think it might be called relay...idk I forget. John informs us that he just got yelled at by Mother Theresa from downstairs. Sorry for parting, Mama T.

        Davis bust out of the fridge, four bottles of Andre (which is champagne for those of you aren’t mentally crippled). He passes them out to us and we all go out on the balcony. We shake them like Shake Weights© (don’t want legal issues), pop the top…wait, I mean unscrew the top (Andre prefers screw tops to corks), and start sprayin' champagne everywhere. People from below probably were thinking, “wow, what a beaut. Look at that party of people goon drippin’ in a shower of champagne, they must be Taylored as fuck.”

       You got that right stranger. We are. We start slowing down after another hour and everyone is scattered around the house, mingling and whatnot waiting to go to the concert. Davis, T. milla, and I were standing out on the balcony just shootin’ the breeze when T. milla sees Tejas in the road.
        Me – “Dude, that’s not Tejas”
        T – “That’s fuckin’ Tejas”
        Me – “Are you sure?”
        Davis – “Lets yell his name on 3….1…2…3 TEJAS!!!”

        Oh my lanta. It’s fuckin’ Tejas. He turns around immediately and starts hauling ass towards John’s house. We book it inside and not but 10 seconds later, I look up and there in the kitchen is Tejas with the classic peace sign up… “HI GUYS!” His voice sounds like Ed from Ed, Edd, and Eddy. (If you forgot who Ed is on that show, he’s the retarded one) .

Tejas is going around making awkward conversation; good thing baby C wasn’t there, he always tends to get Tejas all riled up, making him spill overflowing rum shots all over his face and shirt (Tejas knows how to rage).

We decide to get a move on to the concert. We take our last shot…I meant shotS and head to the concert. Couldn’t tell you what direction we went in, but I can tell you that the last shots I took really did a number on me. We get to the concert and the line is big and crowded. John and I walk through but when when we got past the ticket check there were no other Taylors in sight. John just says, “wait….. hold on” and then walked back into the crowd. I’m sitting there waiting for a couple min, and then out of nowhere John and the rest of the Taylors come back. We go inside and hit the restrooms. As we were in the line we could hear Mac Miller playing while the sun was setting. We get to our standing spot and watch the last of Mac and the sunset. It’s pretty nipply out, so I toss the hood up and toss a few shots from the backwashed Summerfest, crumpled up water bottle. Its been in somebody’s crotch, maybe mine (Don’t remember, I could have been carrying in an AK-47 for all I know), so the booze is lukewarm. There was only one way to chase your shots in Indiana… you take your shot and then mutter, “Girls, girls, girls”. We sit and chat while waiting for Wiz to come on stage.

“TAYLOR GANG OR FUCKING KILL YOURSELF!!”….. “TAYLOR GANG OR LICK A BATTERY! TAYLOR GANG OR EAT SHARDS OF FUCKIN' GLASS”

We wanted everyone to know that we are dedicated Taylors who don’t give a motha fuck.
Wiz come on and then spark, spark. We were totally in the cut rollin’ doobies up. We pass it around and in the middle of the rotation I hear the sweet sweet beat of Phone Numbers come on. Hooo shit! I frumpin’ love this song! All of the Wisco Taylors start rappin, “TIME IS MONEY SO I WENT AND BOUGHT A ROLEX”, people turn and tell us we are the coolest fucking people they have ever met… well…..not really, but I know a guy and he said we were the coolest people he’d ever met…. no no no, he didn't ... but you can imagine what it'd be like if he did . (Billy Madison…anyone….anyone…)
 
We pass around the bottle till it’s empty and chuck it in the crowd like drunken barbarians. We smoke the doobie snacks throughout the concert as we rap all of Wiz’s songs. It was an awesome concert, but all I can tell you about it, is that I was staring into bright lights of the stage and rapping the songs along with Wiz.

The concert ends and we head on out; there are people everywhere littering the streets. Jesse, Jim, Davis, and I somehow end up walking all the way to a nice looking place called Dagwood’s Sandwiches. Looks pretty good. We go inside, the place is empty and no one is in there except us. I didn’t want a sandwich and there was a Qdoba next door; that fuckin dank burrito next door had my drunk ass’s name all over it. They order their sandwiches and I wait with them because Qdoba doesn’t take that long to make. We sit there and wait for 10 min, Jesse is getting ansy. He doing one of those things where you act like you are talking just to your friends but you talk really loud, almost yelling, what you are saying so others can hear you, especially the dusters slow cooks that worked at Dagwood's…Home of the shittiest service on this side of the Mississippi..Sandwiches. (They should definitely have that as their slogan) I get hungrier, say fuck these banana trees and get up and head to Qdoba. Before I can get out the door, J - I <3 drunk munching - Frank tells me to hold up. I head back to the table and he pulls out his wallet, fumbles around with his cards, looks up at me with the big, glossy, stupid, squinty, Frank drunk eyes, and whispers….. “can you get me a burrito as well?” hahaha classic.
I go and get Jesse and my burritos and head back over to Dagwoods where I find the tired-out Taylors still waiting for their food. Jesse doesn’t hesitate to start wrestling the burrito with his mouth. A couple min later they get their food… now frank has 2 meals to take down. We ditched that popsicle stand and headed on back to John’s to consume our much deserving dinner aka drunk munch.

We get to John’s and there are already people in John’s place. We were looking to eat and pass out, since we’ve been up since the crack of fuckin’ dawn. The problem was, the concert ended very early and most people haven’t been up for 20 straight hours, like us Wisco bros... so they were still looking to rage. Jesse plops down on the love seat and doesn’t hesitate to start on his feast. I wonder around, smoke…then eat. I come back into the living room where I see Jesse has decided to use the arm of the couch as a plate. There is rice and beans, chicken and queso sauce all up on the couch. Probably every 15 min someone would come into John’s house and had the same reaction:
“Oh my gosh! Is that puke... did he just puke on the couch?!!”

Every time I would have to explain to them that my roommate hadn’t puked, but that he just likes to go green and not use plates; he’s very resourceful, which is why he used said furniture as his feasting grounds.  After about an hour, there were people everywhere in John’s place, Jesse and Kevin were passed out in the living room. I really wanted to go to bed as well but there was literally nowhere to sleep; John’s room was full of people and he wanted to sleep in there with febes later on. Chris and TumBum come on over with katie and kate. I start drinking again with Tommy and Chris. Tommy pulls out some greenery, and then I really was done-zo Washington. My adrenaline from the booze wears off and my baked-ness kicks in. I’m so tired, I just want to pass out. John comes up and tells me that Jim is passed out in the closet. The closet is pretty small with shit littered up to your waist. Jim was leaning at a 45-degree angle on all the stuff in the closet with drool coming out his mouth. He looked so peaceful, I really was envious of his solid pass out spot. I was the only one up out of the wisco bros. I was so tired and there was nowhere to pass out. I snuck back onto John’s bed but he soon found me, so I had to find a new spot. I couldn’t open my eyes or walk or function… I was brain dead fsho. I cut me losses, see a spot next to Davis behind the couch, and crawl on over there. It felt so good to laydown, it was the most comfortable wooden floor I've ever slept on. I sunk straight right into that wood, closed my eyes, exhaled... and then all I see is black…