Wednesday, June 29, 2011

IU Little 500 - Race Day

IU- Little 500- Race Day
April 16th, 2011

        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

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