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.
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