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…

PCB 2011: Day 2

Day 2:

DRUNK DIARY

 PANAMA CITY BEACH 

Spring Break 2011

Date: March 14

MDP:Me

Wake up drunk go to sleep fucked up!! 10am just rolled around and the sun is shining through the curtains. Ohh man, I can feel its gonna be a good day. Our room so fucking big it made the trip awesome. We had so much room to do activities!! Everyone wakes up around the same time and Jesse and Kyle are ready to go. Jesse, aka chad brochocinco, has already got his attire on for the day and is doing pushups to young, wild and free. Me, sissy mayne, and Kais daddy are still a little rough from the night before, so we get some medicine to help us out...medicinal that is. (so clever) I go to the BFW to pick up some shit…I can’t remember what, I went that Walmart more times than my own room for shits sake. They tell me that when I get back that I should just go to the 2024….I don’t know who’s room to call it, there were 20 people living there. I am trying to be quick about getting my crap at the BFW, but it’s the south, and everyone here is legally retarded. It takes forrrreeever to get through the line and by the time I get up to the 2024 mostly everyone has already went to the beach. Great. When I get up there, it’s just Jordan, Chris, Katie Carr, Davis, and Mussie. I look at Jordan…he looks at me…my eyes are all towlie, and his eyes are redder than the devil’s dick. Yep, we were on the same level. Chris was in one of those modes where he was saying the most outlandish shit. Jordan and I were sitting behind the kitchen island just listening to the crude remarks he was saying to Katie; we would be geeking out at everything he said.

Ex//
         Katie Carr: “ *blank* (name, don’t want to offend) has been getting on my nerves… she is….”
         Before she could finish her sentence, Chris interrupts with: “Did you tell her she was FAT!!??”
         I’m not sure if that seems funny to the reader, but if you can just picture Baby C blurting this out…you’ll know why I’m laughing. Somehow Jordan and I get into this conversation:

         Me: “Dude, mixed drinks are such a pain on the beach.”
         Jordan: “I knowww!!! You’re always losing your drink, it gets warm after a while, and when your done, you have to go back up to the room to make another one.”
         Me: “That’s why beer is so awesome!! You can set it down…you can pick it back up, if you lose it you can grab another one, you can shotgun them or do beer bongs!”
         Jordan was so on my level… “I Know!!! That’s why I love….”

         Before he could finish his sentence, Baby C chimes in. Just picture Chris saying this in his sassy sarcastic voice: “YEAHH!!!! KEYSTONES!!! They’re the best!! You know what the best thing about keystones is… you can shotgun them!! Or even set ‘em down!!”

         For the rest of the trip, Jordan and I wouldn’t hear the end of that.  So we all head on down to the beach to meet up with the rest of the crew. Jordan brought his dad’s cooler from his college days and it was quite the cooler…I’ll tell you why later. We are crossing the street and there are some hood rats hangin’ out their windows hollering at chicky babes on the side of the street. They were in a murdered out, window tinted, I don’t wanna mess with these guys kind of car. As they are passing, Davis yells out “Taylor gang or die”
         The hood rat in the back seat looks at Davis and yells, “HEY SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” Wooo, that was borderline scary. If the I hear any sound remotely close to a gun, I’m hittin’ the deck.

         We meet up with them but Jskank and Von are already gone doing some biddy hunting. We set down the cooler and open it up… Holy Santa Clause shit, a filled-to-the-brim cooler with ice-cold keystone light, a college bros haven. John, Jordan, Tyler M, and I each grab a stone and are antsy to shotgun. But wait, how do we open it…no one brought their keys to the beach, there’s nothing sharp around, well so much for the shotguning I guess. (John Voice) Wait……….Jordan reaches towards the cooler and pulls up a rusty bottle opener attached to the cooler by some fraying twine. It was like the key to my beer. The perfect utensil for the casual shotgunner. We all pry open our desired holes and before you can say, listos… preperados…YA! the whole beer is gone. Probably not the healthiest thing, taking 12 fl oz. of beer straight to the dome in less than five seconds. But hey, it’s PCB, fuck it. There are only so many shotguns you can do, 6 to be exact, before you get bored and want to do something else. I got my drunk buzz going and we were looking to play some beach volleyball, only there were people playing on the court and they weren’t leaving anytime soon… fuckers.
         So naturally we gather a crew of people and head on down to la vela, where it’s always bumpin’. I think it was Jordan, John, Febes, Bri, Jim, Davis, and me that wondered over there. We’re walking down the beach and Jordan tells me that there has been multiple people that has labeled Bri and Febe as the “Ass Girls” haha.
         Rando, “Yo, are you with the ass girls??”
         Jordan: “Huh? Ass girls?”
         Rando: “Ya those two girls with the nice asses, you with them??”
         Jordan: “Bri and Febe?? Haha, Ass Girls… yes I’m with the ass girls”
         There were many kiosks and stands along the way promoting products to young college students like Geico and Plan B (typical). I don’t know who it was but, Jordan and I ended up wearing these Geico wicker Jason Mraz type hats around the rest of the day. We got to La Vela, set down the cooler and marked our spot. Well it didn’t take long before people started moving around and whatnot and soon enough we wanted to move again. I was piss drunk by this time, and I literally needed to piss because I was so drunk. So I have the great idea of taking the cooler with me into the ocean as I pissed. Genius Abomb, genius. I drag the cooler into the ocean over waves and get to about rib-cage high deep in water, open up the cooler, and crack open a stone. I’m facing the beach with a beer in my right hand and my left arm resting on a floating cooler in the ocean, it’s safe to say I was the fucking man. People were giving me shout outs and I would just casually raise my beer and give them a nod to confirm that I was fucking awesome. After I finished my brew-haha I wandered back up to shore and brought the cooler back up to where everyone else was. Jordan and I grabbed a beer and started prowling. We mingled for a couple hours; I couldn’t tell you who we met or what we said, I was a grayed out if not on the brim of blackout. We went to the La Vela stage, which was a nightmare for your feet. Beer cans everywhere and I ended up with a nice half inch cut on the bottom of my foot, fml.

         Jordan and I ended up trying to find the rest of the crew, we found Phoebe and Bri, but we couldn’t find the cooler. A single tear came down Jordans face… jk, but for realzies, that sucked that we couldn’t find the cooler. Whatever you brought to the beach in the morning, there was a 90% that you wouldn’t have it by the end of the day. There were 2 reasons for that: a. you’re a shitbaby, you got above a 0.02 BAC and left it God-knows-where or b. it was stolen by some low-life. We ended up walking back to the spot by our hotel but nobody was there, so we went upstairs to take a nappy.

         I walk into our room and hear our shower running. I go into the bathroom and I am greated by drunk Jesse and blackout Vaughan… naked. Typical. So I decide to join in on the fun, and turn on the Jacuzzi while the other two are soaping up eachothers asses in the shower. We had the music bumpin; Kyle was like a naked money climbing up the walls and on the counter to the beat of the music. When Vaughan gets in a drunken rage, it’s awesome, you couldn’t pay money for that type of entertainment. One of his best blackout moments was when he poured our whole Brita filter all over the linoleum kitchen floor, got butt-ass naked, and was sliding around on his stomach like a fuckin’ slip n’ slide. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life. No homo.

         We get out of the shower and Jacuzzi and its nappy time. All that time in the sun while you are dehydrating the shit out of yourself with the booze can make you very tired. Partying my dick off is a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it. I hit the sheets and am gone pretty quick.
I wake up, it’s dark out and the nightlife has begun. We bust out the greenery and start rippin’ bowls; now my headache has gone away and I’m ready to rage. Head over to the freezer and bust out my buddy, I hate him, but I love him. Pepe, give me your worst. He’s so delicious but he sneaks up on me and rocks me in the face with a blackout… he’s really good at it too.

        We get ready for the night and casually drink as we are getting dressed. People from the 2024 start showing up at our place and somehow it ends up that everyone is drinking in our room for some reason. Within an hour of pre-gaming Henk-star is already #passedOut on our bed. The problem with Henk-star is… he just parties too hard, and I didn’t think it was possible to party to hard. The kid just loves going HAM. And you know exactly when he is in Henk-star mode. Picture henkel: glassy, barely-open eyes with that happy stupid smerk on his face and the velociraptor arms going and usually is hunched over.
We drink until everyone is sufficiently drunk. It’s kinda sad what we do. We want to save money at the bars and clubs by getting extremely drunk before, that way we don’t have to buy drinks at the bar, or just buy 1 or 2. How does this scenario usually end? Hmmm, well at least for all of my roommates, we end up being blackout drunk at the bar and buy shots, mixers, and beer for everyone around us and wake up in the morning with an empty wallet and a bank statement with $30 tab at Johnny O’s. Typical. Usually, what goes through my head when I’m at the bar is only two words… “Fuck it”. Bad alex, bad.

        Just like day 1, day 2 ended up in the same way. I end up blacking out before we even leave, and I passed out while everyone is at the club. Fucking idiot. I wake up from my sleep and my blackout and I just yelled, “Not againnn!!!” I was hella pissed.

        The next know, Jesse walks through the door and tells me he has some bad news. Ohh shit, did someone get arrested? In a fight? Detox? The answer is none of the above. He pulls out his phone, aka the Samsung Propel (which is a texting machine might I add) that I gave him to replace his iPhone, and the LCD in the screen is completely white with cracks running through it.  R.I.P. the Samsung Propel, she was good to me… and Jesse. He told me that him and Jordan were walking to the club and he was doing phone tricks with it, and I’m sure you can guess what happened next.

        Some how it ends up being Tyler, Kaiser, Slam-patti, and me just drinking around the kitchen island. All of a sudden this Jamaican guy named Waukee, who works for the hotel, walks into our room and starts picking up our garbage for us. Naturally, we offer him a shot. I was expecting him to decline, but he took it straight to the dome with no chase. He was trying to play it cool but he was fighting to keep it down. We poured him a to-the-brim shot of the “premium vodka”. It only cost $12 for a 1.75L so it was pretty shitty… no, I’ve mistaken, really shitty. Next question for Waukee, do you want to smoke?? Ok, he will take a shot but there’s no way he is going to get baked with us while he’s working. Wrong again. We pack a bowl of some fine shrubbery and we sit around the coffee table and start lightin up. We started talking to Waukee and asked him about Jamaica and other shit. He seemed like a chill dude and at one point I remember him saying, “damn, this some good weed.” Yep. He was right. We don’t smoke that ditch weed like you in Jamaica, this is some high quality shit bro.

        We polished off that bowl and Waukee had to leave because his boss was wondering what was taking him so long, but the rest of us weren’t finished. So we decided to…pack another one, or two. Result: really, really blazed. As Sisler would say: ‘If you were on a kite that could fly as high as a hot air balloon, being pulled by a space shuttle, then you’d be as high as me.’ We got sam patti high as shit, it was awesome. She had to wear sunglasses so none of us could see her eyes.  It was such a great circle, I don’t remember what was said, probably nothing important or intelligent, but I do remember me smiling 40% of the time and laughing the other 60% of the time.

        It’s really late now but Kyle, Sisler, and I decide were not done. Kyle saw a pool on top of the parking structure that was on the opposite side of the hotel. Do we dare? Yes. We throw on our swim suits, grab a red cup, fill it with mixers, grab a tin and head over to the pool. We had to sneak into it because we weren’t supposed to be in there #badassssss. There were probably 8 other people that were already in the hot tub. We get in and start chummin’ with the other people. We meet this one hick-ass, I fuck my sister, guy who worked at the local Waffle House. He was bragging about how he was the head chef at the Waffle House and he claimed to make de best pancakes and waffles ever. Wow… you sir, are going places. I kept asking him questions about his food, “How fucking delicious are your omelets? I bet you make a mean omelet.”
         Hick: “De best, you can’t get’um any place better.”
         We ended up leaving the hot tub after a while and we headed back up to the room to everyone passed out. I look on the counter and see Pepe staring deeply into my eyes. He had a mere 2 shots left, so I throw them down and then I never saw my Pepe again. Pepe 1, Abomb 0. It was a good battle but Pepe always got the best of me. We turn off all the lights in the hotel, and my eyes start to sink. I crawl into a gigantic king-size bed and I am so happy to be going to sleep. I shut my eyes and prepare for day #3.

PCB 2011: Day 1

DRUNK DIARY

 PANAMA CITY BEACH 

Spring Break 2011

Date: March 13

MDP: Sisler

Day 1: And so it begins...

    Wake up, open up my mac and see my countdown timer for spring break has mere hours left on it. I had two pretty rough weeks before spring break with school and all, so I was ready to take shots to the dome and go HAM. For those of you who have been living under a rock all their life, HAM means Hard As a Mothafucka. It mean no fucking excuses, you drink copious amounts of alcohol, you basically rage until there is a single digit amount of brain cells working. Kapeesh?

    Bags are packed next to the door, sisler and jskank put on and take off the carryall multiple times. Sisler takes me to engineering to drop off my homework and then we hit the mall….roadeeing (naturally), get nothing accomplished at the mall (naturally), but manage to hit up the free samples in the food court (naturally).

    Tshreddys', schatzs', and mrazs' crews meet up with us at our place and we dipset to PCB. We had good intentions of carpooling all the way down, but we all got separated way too quick. The vibe was great; bowls being passed around, music bumping, everyone’s just shootin’ the shit. I still had a computer program to write by 10:00pm, so I was finalizing my program for a while.

    It’s getting dark out and we casually are getting the munchies. Steak & Shake? Yup. Do we bake before? Yep. If they didn’t know we were high, that is the reason why you work at a steak and shake. Oh we munched... and we munched hard. Look down at my cell phone, ohhh shit, it 9:30pm and I need to find some frumpin wifi. We find some a nearby hotel, yes. Submit. NOW…. my spring break has officially started. You might ask how I celebrated? Took a nap, typical.

    I was assigned to stay up with Kaiser while he drove several hours at 2 a.m. I did my best to stay up with him, but my best wasn’t good enough. Nap. When I woke up we were around 15 min outside of PCB. The sun is shining, the windows are rolled down, toss on the bro shades, and turn up the jams. We hit up a liquor store, Kaiser got rejected but I got the Pepe Lopez. I’ve never gotten wasted off tequila, but hey…it’s PCB.

    It takes forever to check into our hotel, figures. We can’t check in until 3:00p.m. so first hit up a BFW. A Big Fuckin Walmart. It takes forever to through walmart but we managed. We went back to the parking garages, change into the swimsuits, and hit up the beach.

    We are greeted by Tyler, Jim, Davis, Joey, Mussie, Henk-star, Phoebe and Bri. Where’s John?? Hmmm….hmm…hmm come on, its john, of course he will not be here on time. Probably packed at the last minute. We drank some brews and then tyler pulls out the volleyball. We find a nearby volleyball court  and we played volleyball for a long ass time; I would be taking pulls out of my mixer in between every point. I played awesome, duh. John got hit on by a guy.

          Random bro:  “HEY! Dude in the white shorts! Nice ASS!”
          John:  “................       “, he didn’t know what to say next.

    Everyone is antsy to go out and experience the nightlife so we all decide to head back upstairs. Jordan and I walk through the parking lot and are greeted by a southern security guard. He was guarding the door to leave the hotel…not to get in, to get out….why? no idea. He’s telling us we don’t have wrist bands so we have to walk all the way around, why? To make this guy feel like he is doing something really important. We argue with the shitbaby for a while and then we just said fuck it. Jordan tells the guy he’s gonna jump the fence and his response was, “I’ll call dem cops on you 2.”
Really?? You think the cops are gonna be concerned about two kids hopping a fence in PCB where there are 2.6 million college students?? You really think that’s their biggest priority??
So Jordan proceeds to say, “Oh yeah! Watch me!”…..toooodalooo mothafuckaaaa. Jordan hops that shit, and I follow. Later security douche, I hope we ruined your day.

    We all go up, shower and get ready. People start showing up at the our place and pregamming, and I ended up getting blacked out from a mexican man named Pepe Lopez. Luke and I passed the frump out on our bed at like 9:00pm. There was no way of avoiding it, I got so few hours of sleep that last week from fucking school, I was too exhausted to function. I woke up around 11:00pm and no one was at our place. They must have gone to the club... sure enough, they went to Guy Harveys. It was a brand new club who earlier had a real douchey bro promoter guy that came to our orientation to tell us how many sluts and hoes were going to be there. By the way, our orientation was a little intimidating. Just picture a crammed room filed with 95% bro. Please tell me it’s not always going to be sausage fest 2011.

    Anyywhooo, back to blackout me. I am texting people asking them where they went and what’s going on. Everyone is so far away at the club, by the time I would get there, they would be leaving. So I call up Joey:

            Me: “Joe, what are you up to?”
            Joey: “Whatrr you doiiinn? "
            Me: "Not much joe, wat r u doing?"
            Joey: "Nothing....wanna smoke a blunt?”
            Me: “Obvi….I’ll be up there soon.”

    Me and joe go to town on the greenery, but I can’t remember what happened for a while, I was gone. The next thing I remember is me being back in our room and people showing up from the club. We started shotgunning beers on the balcony and Luke got hamsauced. The hotel’s policy was that if you threw anything off the balcony, your entire room would be evicted. So…..Luke decides to take the empty crushed beer cans and start kicking them under the railing. I’ll admit I kicked one, but it got deflected off the bars and stayed in. Jesse put a real quick stop to our stupidity. The rest of the night was just a lot of mingling and drinking as usual. A lot of Wiz Khalifa and hashtagging going around.  We end up hitting the sac around 3am. I layed in bed (wasted), closed my eyes and thought about what day 2 was going to bring. There are only three words that come to mind, Listos....Preperados...YA!

Day 2-5 coming soon....

Cougar Hunting

DRUNK DIARY

 Cougar Hunting

MDP: Mary “MareBear” Vaughan

October 17, 2009

        My eyelids are sealed shut and I wake up to Luke on his computer Facebooking it up. I’m fully clothed on Waller and Luke’s futon. Btw, very comfy…props Waller/Sisler. I look up at the clock. 9:47…. “FUCKKKKK!!! Wake up Waller we need to start drinking STAT!!!”
Waller “That won’t be hard, we’re still drunk from last night.”

        Touché Waller, valid point. I walk home and get ready for the game. I don’t have a ticket so I grab some money and hopefully find a ticket for really cheap. I’m jamming out a little MJ, Billie Jean, by myself getting ready for the game. I’m getting jacked up, so I decide to take a double shot of gin. Wowzas that was a shitty idea. The dry gin, goes down my throat, trying to burn a hole in my esophagus, hits my stomach with no food in it whatsoever and immediately takes effect. I get a call from Kaiser that everyone is over on breeze street. Fuck. Breeze Street? Wat the eff? I meet Waller and Sizzle tits and we walk over Breeze Street. The only alcohol we have is the Tanquerey. We walk past camp Randall to Breeze Street, and on our way and there is a Velveeta Cheese stand. They’re giving out free samples. Hell YA we should get some road cheese! I walk up and I get a sample of three chips with Velveeta cheese on it. Now that I have a solid breakfast in me, I can really start the drinking. We meet everyone at the party and start taking pulls of gin while chasing it down with some ice-cold beer. No good, but it does the job. Everyone wants to go to the game, and Jesse and I don’t have tickets. Not about to waste $70 on a ticket that I probably wasn’t going to watch. The opportunity cost is way too much. Props to econ for that one, thanks professor Kelly.

        Me and Frank walk over to the Memorial Union where Jim, Mike, Sarah, Shane, Sam Mosey, and of course…Bryce are. We all walk into the Union where everyone is and we don’t hesitate to grab the pitcher and pour. Let me remind you that basically all of them work there and so they just go behind the counter and fill up a pitcher for free. At the end of the day, I think we had 12 pitchers of free, quality beer. Personally, the cheaper the beer, the better it is. I was sitting there with some Oktoberfest beer, thinking to myself, “wow you know what would be better than this…an ice cold Keystone light.” I’ve never drank socially before so this was a first for me. Usually when someone hands me a beer, the only techniques of drinking this beer are: A. Saukville Slam or B. Shotgun.

        We watch the game and depressingly watch the Badgers lose their second straight loss. Scott Tolzein never did, nor ever will have a horse cock when he plays like that. I drink a couple pint-sized glasses of beer so I am pretty liquored up. We start walking back towards home but Mike has to take Jim to the liquor store so Jesse, Mosey, and me walk back towards Mike’s house. Mosey needs to get his phone out of his car so we have to walk a country mile to the parking structure. Instead of walking, Mosey decides to run to the parking structure. Along the way he is yelling phrases to random passing pedestrians, “I’m black, I run a fucking fast 100.” We get to the parking structure; Jesse and I decide to walk while Mosey continues to run. We walk up three stories or so when Jesse thinks he found a shortcut. He runs off and I don’t feel like running. Within 30 seconds, Jesse is nowhere to be found and I’m by myself. I have to piss really bad so I find a nice corner and an Iowa license plated car and decide that his door is a nice toilet to pee on. I call Jesse and reconnect with Mosey and Jesse and we drop off Mosey at Mike’s house. Jesse and me walk back to Ogg and on our way we see a couple with        Oklahoma Sooner’s jerseys on. What the fuck?

        Jesse doesn’t hesitate to tell them “This isn’t Oklahoma nor who Oklahoma played today.”
        Lady “Learn you’re fucking sporting events.”
        Jesse “Whatever Bitch”
        We head back to Ogg where Kyle, Mike, Dan, Danielle, and Victor are. They ripped a few bowls and Mike was high as shit. “Mike what’s that on you head, it looks like a tumor.” There is a bulge sticking out of his head underneath his headband. “It’s my jewel.” What the hell? A jewel? I look underneath his headband, and there is a cough drop on his head. Only Mike would think it was a jewel. He insists on leaving it there. We’re all just chillin there for an hour or so when Kyle says that his parents are over by Camp Randall. Waller didn’t want to go so he stayed and slept. Kyle, Jesse, Mike, and I walk over to Regent and Randall. We see Mare bear in the outside bar so we go in and greet her. “Is this metro mike?” HAHAHA this is mike’s official name to the Vaughans. Mike is still very ripped and mumbles to himself, “that’s not my real name, its Michael.” Watever Metro, that’s not your name. Ty Vaughan is socializing with others as usual. “Dad!” Ty walks over with a fatty cigar in his mouth. He looks at us and greets us, then he gets to mike… “O my gosh!! Metro Mike!!!” as he bows to Metro. Now both the Vaughans know Kaiser as Metro Mike. Poor Mike, always getting the metro nickname. Ty stares at his shirt. It is a BILF shirt that has a seductive Bucky on it.

        Ty- “Now I know what a MILF is, but what is a BILF? What does the B stand for……….Boy?” Haha poor mike lol. We all want to go to a bar, but to get in; we have to be children to the Vaughan’s or Uncle Charley. We do a draft and Ty picks Kyle and Mike. “I got the tall boys.” It’s Jesse and me as Uncle Charley’s kids. Frank says to Uncle Chuck, “Don’t worry Uncle Charley what you lack in height you gain in….” Frank’s eyes wonder down towards his crotchel region when uncle Charley blurts out “GIIRTTH!” ooooo uncle Charley. We walk over to the outside bar area where there are cops at the front entrance. Ty asks the cops, “Hey if I have my sons here, can I bring them in?”

        Cop -“Yaaaa no problem.” We walk in and the place is thumpin…to 80’s music lol. There are cougars and old fucks everywhere. We manage to swim our way through the crowd straight to the bar where Ty buys about 8 Miller Lites. We crack them and start our post game off the right way. We start slammin and there are so many people that we can’t move. We are half-staff drunk and we are people watching. We see a dude with a bull cut and hair that looks like yarn, he is an Iowa fan and is doing retarded old people dances. Such as…throwing your hand up off beat, like your high fiving the air. We just sit there and laugh at his stupidity hoping that one day we don’t turn out like him. Not 5 minutes later, uncle Charley walks up to us with 4 brew-hahas and we all grab one. Free beer all day, that’s so totes mgoats. An old lady, that could be the same age as my grandma and asks us, “What are those things under your eyes?” We have the Mueller stickers under our eyes and we proceed to only give her one. She wanted another one, greedy little bitch, but we didn’t give her one.

        The guy behind us is a younger guy that is a bro looking guy with sunglasses on. (It was complete overcast) We see him trying to talk to cougars and Kaiser thinks that he needs some help, so he lends him one of his finest pick-up lines. “Hey! You tryin to get dat cougar? Say this: Girl…you so fine, I’d drink yo bath water.” He didn’t seem to think it was a good line.

        Mary is pretty liquored up and starts taking pictures of all of us while we Saukville Slam and whatnot. It’s about an hour since we’ve gotten to the beer garden and the place is starting to slim down in size. We keep slammin and soon the mood to dance sets in. We’re starting to dance to a bunch of old songs like bon jovi and shit but whatever it was fun. Jesse feels the urge to go cougar hunting. He is finding old ladies and tries hitting on them. I forgot which one is was or how the conversation started, I just remember Jesse telling her that he has “fluffy handcuffs at the dorm”. Jesse sees a bunch of ladies talking in a circle and think that they are his target cougars. He goes by them and starts dancing with them. He is talking to them for 10 minutes or so. He finished off his beer, and decides to crush it with his foot. Only problem is, there was a little bit of beer left in it. Jesse raises up his foot, aggressively slams it on the can, and…boom goes the dynamite. Beer shoots up and sprays one of the cougars right in the eye. The money shot, now only if he could have done that with his man nectar. Nice work Frank. Jesse acts like he feels terrible and tries to give the cougar a bear hug, but she just pushes him away. So much for those cougars.

        The later the day gets, the more hip-hop music they play. Old farts are drifting away and soon, there is a big enough spot to have a dance floor. Jesse decides to grab this cougar that had faded red and white overalls on, who by the way, almost broke the buttons on the overalls. Jesse starts grinding with her and whatnot and then gets on all fours and shakes his ass like a porn star. People were pointing and laughing at him, but who cares, they were mostly jealous of his booty-doo. The sun is setting and the nightlife is starting to come out. We chug beers and try to apply the stanky leg to every song we hear. Out of nowhere, we hear, “haha yea! It’s the D-O-double R.” Shut the front door, they are not playing ice cream paint job. “Fuckin A, this is my song.” I feel like a schoolboy bitch, as I jump up and down screaming. “YEAH BUDDY ROLLIN LIKE A BIG SHOT!!” everybody looks at us, now it’s our time to shine. Old people are not sure how to dance to our style of music, so we are in the spotlight now. We jam out to our song, but soon enough, it ended. Back to old people music…ugh. Jesse and me get a tip that they take requests.

        We walk up to the bartender, “Hey!! Play Stanky Leg or You’re a Jerk!!”
        Bartender-“Stanky huh? You’re a who?”
        Me -“STANKY…LEG, or YOU ARE A JERK”
        Bartender -“Ok sounds good.”
        Not even one song later, we hear “Ahh, Southside is who I be! I got my G-spot boys wit me, ya
dig?” YESSSS that’s what I’m fuckin talking about. We all gather in a circle and stanky leg the shit out of this beer garden. The place smelled after we got done stanky legging…that’s how good we were. People watched in awe as we hit da booty-doo and as we leaned wit it, and dropped wit it, and switched to the other leg and we stopped wit it. I think I speak for everyone when I say that we felt like bosses, or at least I felt like a boss. It was about 7:30 or so and we’ve been at the beer garden for a good 4.5 hours or so. We’re all hungry as a hungry-hungry-hippo. We start heading over to the Nitty Grit guy. It’s Ty and us 4. We start walking and I’m so drunk that I think we are going the wrong direction. Eventually I’m proven wrong and we walk a country mile to get to the gritty. We are over by the SERF when Ty grunts out,
        “Why the hell didn’t you tell me it was this far? I could have called a cab.”
         Kyle- “Cuz that would cost money dad, I’ve never taken a cab.”
         Ty- “Kyle…You’re with your father, I don’t care about a taxi fare.”
         Kyle- “This is like walking to class everyday.”
         Ty- “At age 53, this is too much.”
         We walk into the gritty and it’s a half hour wait. Hostess- “How many in your party?”
         Ty- “Eight, no… Twelve, ehhh sixteen…ya we have sixteen.”

        We all sit on the bench and the adrenaline goes away, and the pure drunkenness sets in. I sit there and within 5 minutes, I’m like “Holy shit, I’m drunk as a skunk.” I hit the pisser and empty out about 5 beers in urine form. We get our table upstairs and we are seated. We all sit on one end of the table, except for Jesse. He sits on the opposite side of the table. Mary blurts out, “Jesse, get the fuck over here!” whoa. Did she say what I think she said? Yep ladies and gentlemen, Mary “Mare Bear” Vaughan dropped the f-bomb. But it didn’t stop there. It was fuckin this, and fuckin, that, fuckin everything.  
        “Your Uncle Charley is fuckin awesome.”
         Kyle getting pissed off, “YA!! He is FUCKIN awesome, mom.”
         Mare Bear “Where is your FUCKIN brother?”
         Kyle- “I have no FUCKIN idea mom!”
         Ty and Mary were tanked and it was a thrilling experience. I can see where Kyle gets his blackout skills from. Like father like son. Mary starts drunk dialing people. First it’s Brit. She calls her up and starts talking to her.
        “What the fuck are you up to? Here talk to Kyle…”
         Kyle talks to Brit and then hangs up the phone, “She needed to go so she hung-up.”
“What the fuck did she do that for? I know what, I’m not stupid. Bill is over and she’s gonna get some fucking nookie. Then she’s going to go to sleep, then get some more nookie. But…no nookie for you Kyle, you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Shut the fuck up mom!”

        Kyle calls Aunt Jane over to the table, “Hey can you tell my mom to tone it down on the F-bombs, she’s been dropping them all night?”

        Mare Bear is in the spotlight droppin “Fuck” every other sentence. Mike tells Mare Bear that her and Mike’s mom are going out drinking soon. Mike texts his mom, ‘you and mare bear are going out drinking soon.” Mike’s mom, Pam, responds with, ‘that would be great, but I need a nickname.’
Mike-“What should we nickname my mom? She needs a nickname like Mare Bear’s.”
“Uhhh…I don’t know.”

        Mike- “Never mind, I got one…Slamala-pamala.” He does precede to text her this. Mike’s mom must know when Mike is drunk, considering he left a drunk voicemail a couple of weeks ago asking her if she fucked a black dude, and if he was 13% black.
Back to the MDP…Mare Bear. Mary tells one of us, (not sure who it was, too many beers) “Ask Jamie if she has any diarrhea on he burger.”
We are like, huh? What the front door are you talking about?
        We ask Jamie, “hey…uhh is there any diarrhea on that burger?” She wasn’t very happy with us but we didn’t know why. Apparently on the way to Madison, they had to stop on the way at a BP gas station because she shit her britches. Mary really knows how to cut the core of her. (Anchorman line drop, whoo whoo). We are all eating our food and I am so hungry, I eat absolutely everything on my plate…plus mikes buffalo chicken…plus Part of Jesse’s burger. I was completely done with my burger, and I look over at Jesse. He is on the verge of passing out, he has one bite out of his burger, and is eating his fries at a pace of 1 fry/ min. Slowest eating ever, with his eyes barely cracked open. Looks like his booty-doo really wore him out…or it was the 12 beers we had…or the cumulative of 8 hours of sleep in the past two days. We are all finishing up and Kyle tells us that Jim and Tyler are coming to hang out with us at the grit guy. We keep eating and talking to Mare Bear, and Jesse has found a new hobby. He decides to unscrew the salt cap and dump it on the empty plate of nachos. O boy, Jesse quit acting like a bleen pad. What’s he doing now?? Well he is digging his hands in the salt and sifting it through his fingers. He does this basically for 10 or 20 minutes. Jim and Tyler walk up and greet the Vaughans and company, and sit down by us. They are thirsty for some Miller Lite (capitalized that shit…just for you Kyle) so Kyle asks the waiter for 6 Millers.
        Mary blurts out to Tyler, “Your mom is so fuckin foxy.” We all chime in. “Ya woo, JILL BABY!” Mary- “Especially at Pilates, she’s so foxy.” Tyler isn’t too happy with us, and Mare Bear would like to drunk dial Mrs. Federspill as well. She ends up talking to Jill for about 10 minutes or so, probably dropping F-bombs like it’s her job.
         We get the Lites and Jim and Tyler start pounding. I take one look at the beer and realize if I take one sip… all the beer from the union, the beer from the beer garden, and the food and beer from the Nitty Gritty will indeed come blowing out of my mouth. I decide to hand it to Jim, best decision of my life. We all are ready to leave. Kyle wants to go because Jesse is acting like a poop-brain. We all stand up and I look over at Jesse, and his hand is completely covered in salt. We say thank you and walk out the door and walk back to Ogg.
        Jesse asks, “Why did we have to leave?”
        Kyle- “Cuz Frank! You were acting like a retard. Digging your hands into the salt??”
        Jesse responds, “But Mary thought it was funny, so I kept doing it.”

        We get back to Ogg and we all just chill. Kyle lays on the futon and Mike lies on the ground, using my overalls as a pillow. Within 5 minutes they are dead passed out. Waller calls me up and says that him and Luke are coming over. I tell him to pound on the door hard because I might pass the fuck out. Coincidence?? I think not. I passed the fuck out on Jesse’s bed. I wake up to my phone ringing and the loud knocks on the door. O shit. I let them in, and I talk to them for a while. I’m not sure about what, I was buzzin off of sleep deprivation. They leave and I am conscious enough to realize that I’m probably going to spend the night there if I didn’t go home now. I grab my overalls, strap up and head back to Smith. I look at the clock, its only 11:45. I really don’t give a shit; there is no way I could out again. I get ready for bed and strip down to my boxers and climb into bed. The feel of soft sheets and a fluffy pillow makes me almost cream my pants. I look out my window at all the drunken freshmen and think to myself, “They might have had fun tonight, but it was no cougar hunting.”