Note: My only story-worthy memory in between our encounter with HomelessMan and later in the night is exposing myself to some cheerleader from Indiana.
Kevin “Show me your boobs. I am hung like a moose.”
CheerWhore “Show me your dick.”
I whip out my penis and start shaking it at her.
She shows me her breasticles.
Kevin “Now you want to fuck me.”
CheerWhore “It’s not that big.”
Kevin “It’s a grower, not a show-er, BITCH!”
Swing and a miss.
Skipping ahead a couple of hours, this is where the real fun begins. We arrive at our first bar of the night, Latitudes. Things are going good; I’m content with talking to random sluts and fucking with the plethora of losers milling around the place for the moment. I decide that I’m a tad drunker than I realized after I got out onto the back deck of the place.
I smoothly attempt to kick back on a bench that was located by the back rail, the main problem here being that this particular bench was non-existent. As I fall flat on my ass amidst a massive crowd of people, I see the bouncer immediately begin heading in my direction. Next thing I know, he has me by the collar and is taking me towards the door. Dan appears, seemingly out of nowhere, to propose my vindication to this burly son of a bitch. In all our nights of drunken debauchery I have NEVER saw Dan do what he did next—compose himself.
Dan “Hang on man, it’s cool. He’s with me. I’ll keep an eye on him from now on.”
Bouncer “Alright man. But I swear one more outburst or anything from this guy and he’s gone.”
Dan “I got you man, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”
All I could do was stare in amazement. DAN had just convinced a bouncer not to kick me out of a bar while equally, if not more, drunk than myself. Dan held true to his promise, momentarily at least. The next thing I knew, Dan was already gone and I was being asked to leave by the same cumbersome individual who had previously attempted to eject me.
In my drunken stupor, I staggered toward the Days Inn. As I crossed the Hooter’s parking lot I saw one of my buddies, Wender, sitting at a table by the window with some girls. I immediately write the Days Inn off and stumble inside. I have virtually no memory after I entered Hooter’s other than the locked door when I was leaving, but Wender recounted to me what went down. He told it to me something like this:
“You walked up to the table and started yelling. Then, the waitress asked you to sit down, so you called her a whore and let out a yell consisting of a string of unintelligible curse words. Kind of like a five year old that didn’t get their way, but drunk and cursing. She then told me to get you out of there before they had to, so you proceeded to try and exit through a locked door. Upon discovering the door was locked, you started screaming again and attacking it until I grabbed you by the shirt, dragged you out of there, and took you back to the bar; where shortly afterward I lost you again.”
After the alcohol in my system had diffused enough for me to make coherent thoughts, I reunite with Dan and we set out in search of more places to fuel our drunken adventure. I can’t remember at all what the name of the second bar we went to was, but I know we were only in there long enough to scream and belittle people for roughly five minutes before we were removed from there as well.
Then came the Red Door Saloon. We walk in, and I immediately snatch someone’s mixed drink off of the counter and chug it. We then have this conversation with the bartender.
Dan “WHORE! SHOTS!”
Bartender “I need to see you guys’ IDs.”
Kevin “I lost my fucking wallet.”
Dan “SHOTS!”
Bartender “OK…Wait, you have X’s on your hands.
Kevin “Because I lost my fucking wallet you idiot! I lost EVERYTHING! MY ID, DEBIT CARD, EVERYTHING! SHOTS! PLEASE!”
Bartender “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Dan “WHORE! Give me two shots, and I will give him one.”
Bartender “I would guys, but I can’t do that.”
Dan “OK! FUCK! Give me two shots, and I will take them BOTH!”
Kevin “Yeah do that, quit being an uppity bitch.”
Bartender “Hang on just a second, OK?”
We assume this is good news, myself and Dan celebrate with a much called for fist bump
Bartender returns:
“Yeah, you guys better get the fuck out of here. Like, now.”
We strike out in search of somewhere that provides alcohol that can handle our boisterous hilarity. Along the way, we try to yank open the locked doors of a bar because we see people inside. We both snatch the doors and yell a couple times before moving on.
We found out the next day that this “bar” was some type of Christian missionary place.
Oops.
After winding up in several shady places, none of which proved to be successful, we find ourselves at an all-night Pizza Hut/Taco Bell amongst a formidable crowd of fellow Spring-Breakers. While Dan is screaming at everyone I tap a fat girl with what could only be described as “pubic-hair” hair on the shoulder.
Kevin “Excuse me. You are fat.”
PubeHead “Fuck you!” Turns back around.
Kevin “I’m kidding, where are you from?”
PubeHead “Michigan.”
Kevin “Correction, you are a fat guido. Nobody loves you. Your parents don’t even love you. I doubt Jesus even loves you.”
She gives me a look of pure disgust before telling me to fuck myself and turning back around. I notice a decent crowd of people who are cracking up after observing this scenario; so I make the most deranged face I can before making a “gun” with my index, middle finger and thumb and pretending to blast PubeHead in the back of the cranium.
By this point, Dan has worked his way to the front of the line and is screaming:
“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PIZZA! WHERE THE FUCK IS IT YOU WHORE!”
I’m not even sure he had ordered. The woman behind the counter kindly tells us to get the fuck out before she calls the police. We happily oblige.
Yep, I’m going to hell.
That’s not even a good story, thanks for wasting 3/4 of the page.
You are potentially the worlds largest bag of douche and a disgrace to decent drunks everywhere. Perhaps had you not acted like such a childish wanker you would have actually fucked at least one of the millions of drunk, hot, horny college girls also on spring break instead of ending up in a Pizza Hut picking on fat girls. Fag!
you’re just a huge dick. that’s not even a funny or entertaining story, it just shows that you get yourself tossed out of bars for your lack of class, can’t get any decent girls, and are a terrible person. Seriously, have fun in hell. There may be hilarity in the \drunk, belligerent asshole\, but in your case you translate that rationale into your everyday life and you are going to end up a washed-out, miserable, old bastard with no accomplishments in life any greater than driving a fat girl to kill herself. You may want to reconsider that major lifestyle change you mention in your bio you fucking faggot
That has to be the worst Tucker Max ripoff ever. Seriously, if it was even a little bit entertaining, he would probably sue you. Instead, it probably just offends him as bad writing.