Tuesday, June 28, 2011

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 …WHAT?!”
    “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 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.

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