So yeah last weekend was pretty bunk until Saturday night. Sipped down some smooth goose bombs (2 parts Cran, 1.9 parts Goose, .1 part OJ) and went to a party full of random slizzies that Julie knew. After sitting inside the party, almost sobering up with three of the most unfun girls, I went outside played pong and proceeded to be a Boston asshole as much as possible. It was fine, I was on a roll, I didn't offend anyone too bad except a coupla of party bitches. The chick in the photo above, I loved. She is a 6.5 at best. Her boyfriend was there. No worries, he went to Bucknell. So did she. All these Bucknell broads and no Lauren Bricker. At one point while Julie was playing pocket pool with Tom's sleek stick in the parking lot behind the house, Wilson texted me to come to the Guards. I really wanted to, but was 15 miles south, playing one on one beer pong with a kid named 3G from Bucknell who was definitely a party boy too. Naturally, after losing, I called Fennell while sipping on Yuengweiser. Of course he was more drunk than me and I yelled at him for having no balls. My motivational speeches have digressed and revolve around the word "pussy". So basically I am little Centro without the AR or Mary Slaney stories. Welp, there's no chance I ever get invited back to that place. Mission accomplished.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Ridin dirty in Alexandria
So yeah last weekend was pretty bunk until Saturday night. Sipped down some smooth goose bombs (2 parts Cran, 1.9 parts Goose, .1 part OJ) and went to a party full of random slizzies that Julie knew. After sitting inside the party, almost sobering up with three of the most unfun girls, I went outside played pong and proceeded to be a Boston asshole as much as possible. It was fine, I was on a roll, I didn't offend anyone too bad except a coupla of party bitches. The chick in the photo above, I loved. She is a 6.5 at best. Her boyfriend was there. No worries, he went to Bucknell. So did she. All these Bucknell broads and no Lauren Bricker. At one point while Julie was playing pocket pool with Tom's sleek stick in the parking lot behind the house, Wilson texted me to come to the Guards. I really wanted to, but was 15 miles south, playing one on one beer pong with a kid named 3G from Bucknell who was definitely a party boy too. Naturally, after losing, I called Fennell while sipping on Yuengweiser. Of course he was more drunk than me and I yelled at him for having no balls. My motivational speeches have digressed and revolve around the word "pussy". So basically I am little Centro without the AR or Mary Slaney stories. Welp, there's no chance I ever get invited back to that place. Mission accomplished.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Shooter - The Drinking Game
If you want to get drunk really fast, just pop in the movie "Shooter" and have 8 beers ready to drink. Here's the rules: everytime someone says "shot (or some variation of it, 'shooter')", "kill" or someone gets killed, you have to take a drink. Everytime there's a headshot kill (i.e. anytime Bobby Lee Swaggert shoots someone), that's a double drink. Each participant also has a wild card. For example, Burford's wildcard was anytime one of two main female characters had a close-up shot, he had to drink. I used the word "yards" in reference to the distance of a shot or anytime a helicopter was visible. Turner used the word "democracy" or whenever Swaggert's sidekick got a kill.
You might have to pause or DVR the movie numerous times because it can get hard to keep track of.
Good movie, better drinking game.
You might have to pause or DVR the movie numerous times because it can get hard to keep track of.
Good movie, better drinking game.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Weekend Alcoholism Approaching
Where does the binge begin? Awit has three days left, Sunday night he flies to L.A. for a career as a street performer. I think we (Burf and I) should buy him one last warm meal before he is doing his best imitation of Bubbles under the Hollywood sign.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Terrible blog
I just wanted to know where to write about how terrible this blog is going to be. This is not to say that it is not fucking terrible right now but I can see the terrible future it has in store. This blog is like Burf trying to get money at the metro playing his banjo. Sorry burf. This will be my only post ever. Two last words, Macadie blowup.
Monday, July 28, 2008
I'm a weekend alcoholic. It's not something I'm proud of, I mean I'm 24 years old and I have played beer pong every Saturday afternoon for the last 5 weeks. 
I'm not in college anymore and I was never even in frat; really the whole thing is just sad. The worst part is that each week we've added more cups and more beer to the game. By the end of a game the hot, summer sun has boiled away most of the water leaving warm, syrupy Bud Heavy to choke down.
It's so hot we can't even wear shirts, and only the bravest of us will wear jeans. I blacked out the faces of the my friends to protect their identities but as you can see in this photo, we are playing with a 36 cup arrangement, with 10 beers on each side. In the end every game comes down to the last cup and in reality, nobody wins.
Like most guys my age I drink and go to bars to meet girls, but the last few weeks I have been so drunk by the time the sun goes down that I can't even speak to girls at bars without saying something completely idiotic that will inevitably repulse them.
My acknowledgement of all this won't prevent me from doing the same thing next week. I don't have a lot of disposable income, but what I do have I spend on Solo cups and mass-produced American lagers. I'm not necessarily proud of it, but I have made a lifestyle choice that will be hard to change. I am a weekend alcoholic.
I'm not in college anymore and I was never even in frat; really the whole thing is just sad. The worst part is that each week we've added more cups and more beer to the game. By the end of a game the hot, summer sun has boiled away most of the water leaving warm, syrupy Bud Heavy to choke down. It's so hot we can't even wear shirts, and only the bravest of us will wear jeans. I blacked out the faces of the my friends to protect their identities but as you can see in this photo, we are playing with a 36 cup arrangement, with 10 beers on each side. In the end every game comes down to the last cup and in reality, nobody wins.
Like most guys my age I drink and go to bars to meet girls, but the last few weeks I have been so drunk by the time the sun goes down that I can't even speak to girls at bars without saying something completely idiotic that will inevitably repulse them.
My acknowledgement of all this won't prevent me from doing the same thing next week. I don't have a lot of disposable income, but what I do have I spend on Solo cups and mass-produced American lagers. I'm not necessarily proud of it, but I have made a lifestyle choice that will be hard to change. I am a weekend alcoholic.
Inagural Post
Submit your stories you drunks. Or don't. I don't care. Bobby Shambles, two tallboys and I will be at the end of the bar with Cena talking about how our lives suck. A few hours later I will text message anything with nipples and hope not to wake up next to Burf, which will inevitably happen. In the morning I will solicit breakfast, a cup of ice water and toilet paper and he will oblige.
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