Sort by most views

Its not everyday you can look back and think… I was 5 minutes from being killed, found in a dumpster or found in a field somewhere but its happened to me. The scary part is its not a memory that I can forget or one that will ever go away. I may just be emotionally scarred for life.

It started out like any other Saturday except this one was different. I just got laid off and I had literally nothing to look forward to that day. When my wife woke me up shes like you need to do something fucking productive, I am sick of you sitting here sulking about how you have no job. Im like listen, I am trying you gotta give me a break, I have been job hunting ever since you made me move to Vegas and I just literally got laid off this week so lay the fuck off.

I went out and looked for jobs all afternoon form restaurant to restaurant and found nothing. Everyone had the same answer, “we are already cutting our staffs hours so theres no way we can bring on another worker”. I was used to it so its not like they offended me by any means. After I got home and still didn’t find a job I was greeted at the door by my loving wife. “Did you find a fucking job yet asshole?” Me “No why dont you just lay the fuck off and go finger blast yourself to death since we know I’m not getting tonight anyway!” I walked by her with disgust that we were still together and just stormed in the other room like a little girl. Fuck me, I tried its not like I was the one who wanted to move to Vegas to begin with. I left a perfectly good job working at Southwest Airlines.

When it came time for my whorish wife to work at Hooters, an extremely respectable job, I decided I would drive her. After dropping her off I decided I would go grab a few drinks. It started off as a regular night just having a few cocktails but I got hooked on the nickel slots. I won a little bit but just enough to keep the drinks coming. One after another they went down smooth. The cocktail waitresses suddenly were looking better and time seemed to have stopped. I was up about $40 in nickels which is like a billion fucking nickels by the way. In downtown Las Vegas, they still had slots where you could actually cash out in nickels and not tickets. It was sweet, but FUCK ME they got heavy. After I cashed out I guess I had way too many cocktails and fell right the fuck out of my chair. Nickels were everywhere, it was a madhouse. Guards were racing to try to keep these homeless fucks off my money but all hell broke loose. Some old hag snatched a few up and I screamed “Bitch give me back my rent you fuckin old mother fucker… ill beat your false teeth out!!!” The guards were trying to stop me from her and then this black dude was scooping them in his hat, I turned and tackled him and thats when it happened. A giant ass slot machine got nailed and tipped over…. NOW WERE FUCKED. The black dude was mother fucking me as I took some shots to his gut. I turned and the gramma was still stealing my change…. the guards were holding back the crowd trying to pull me off and then I just said fuck it and booked. I left all my nickels…. $40 …. DAMN ME… im super pissed. I have a knot on my head from head butting the slot machine. Cops are everywhere. They are scrambling like a madhouse but no one knows whats going on. I darted into another casino and ordered a drink. My heads hurting but I am wearing a hat so no one noticed. I slam my drink and order another. I cant figure out what happened, I am trying to replay the events but nothing is coming to mind. I kept thinking of how I wanted to pop granny in the face. This guy next to me kept mumbling shit and finally im like What the fuck are you saying dude. He looked and me and goes, “man i dont know what you did but your shirt has a giant ass hole in the back and ur bleeding a little bit. ” Im like thanks and ran off to the bathroom. By a little bit he meant I looked like i was sliced with a machetti. I tried to clean up the best I could and went and bought the first shirt I found. It was this pink shirt for women that said “Viva Las Vegas men!”

I was like holy shit what the fuck am I wearing when I saw myself in the mirror. Its ok though because I wasnt bleeding anymore. I had about $20 in my wallet at this point and knew I couldnt afford my tab. I folded up my other shirt and left it on the bar and asked the bartender if I could make a quick call. I got out there and my phone died at this point. So I pretended I was dialing and darted off like a fucking giselle. Jesus Christ this is one helluva high. I was running looking for my car and saw some guards chasing me. Now I am fucked- I lost my car. Where did I park…. fuck me?! Im so drunk, Im wearing a pink t-shirt and now I lost my car. I saw this hooker and she was trying to get guys to come home with her. She took one look at me and thought I was a dumb tourist. I started talking to her and asked her where her motel was. I told her I dont have a car but I would go if she got us a ride. The motel she was staying at was a few miles closer to the strip from downtown. I knew I lived in Henderson so I figured it would be a great idea to get closer. As I sat in the cab with her she asked me about my day. I told her I tried to beat up an old lady and some black guy robbed my $40 in nickels. She just laughed saying I had a rough night and she would take care of me. I thought I could pull a fast one on her and run off but it looked like she had back up close by.

When we got to her motel room I asked to use the bathroom. I had to figure out how to get the fuck out of here. I cant get caught with a hooker- I dont want to go to jail. I mean what the fuck am I really doing. I just used a hooker for a ride closer to my house. Im wasted and trying to think. Being a dumbass I tried to get out the bathroom window. I opened it and she heard a bang… and asked me if I was ok. I accidentally kicked the toilet seat lid off and it shattered. Fuck me … whats happening??!? I stepped back on it again and tried to squeeze out the window— FUCK… im stuck… my shirts ripping and I cant get all the way out. I kept trying to wiggle and then it happened….. SNAP!!! The fucking window screen I was trying to get out of snapped off and we both went tumbling out the window. I heard a HEY YOU OK?!?!?! and ya know what… I wasnt. I fell right on my head and my hands were stuck in the screen. I looked like I was wearing a hula hoop but only it was a fucking window!!! I managed to free myself and thats when I heard a bang… some dude kicked in the door and poked his head out of the bathroom window only to see me running like mad hell. Jesus, my hearts racing. I hear screeching tires and just kept running. I was hopping one fence after another, OMG i have no clue where I am… I am trying to use reference points. The lights are everywhere and Im super fucking lost.

I lost my wallet in the process but still had my car keys. I am certain I will find my car. I was trying to think where I parked it but it was to no avail. I was walking down the streets of downtown Las Vegas and homeless people were everywhere. I have no clue what time it is… my phones off, my wallets gone and my dignity is shot. I slowly made my way back to where I thought my car was and thats when i heard “Hey man, what you doing here” I was confused and had no answer. I really couldnt even tell him anything. He approached me hoping to rob me, took one look and said…. O you must be new to the streets. I just kinda mumbled , yeh- got an ass whooping today. He goes, just sit down man, take a drink of this, it will help. I sat there chilling with some homeless people chugging god knows what. I was super wasted and started telling them stories. I’d tell them one and they would come right back with a ….” AWW man you dont know nothing bout dees streets. My man Vinnie got stabbed over gum and he dont even have all his teef. Fuck it though…. hes ok and got tah stay fo free at da hospital.”

Finally after I sat up, I told them I had a car. There eyes lit up and were like, we thoughts you was homeless. I said, SHIT man, I will be after my wife finds out about tonight. I gave 3 of them a ride to the South Strip. I told them I really didnt have any money and lost my wallet and they said “no problem… lets get some fuckin booze- we gotta car tonight!” Here I am drinking with all these fucking homeless people getting mad fucked up in some alley in my car.

After about what seemed to be an eternity a cop pulled up on us. I was like shit were mad fucked. The cop pulled us all out of the car and asked us questions. He ran all their backgrounds and 2 out of the 3 had warrants and all of them were lying about everything. The cop comes up to me and straight up asks me whats going on
Me: Officer I…. I…
Cop: You are with 2 felons and a known crackhead and you have nothing to say, You are getting taken in.
Me: I SAID WAIT…. ok listen. I had a rough night.

I went through my night and told them everything that happened leaving out the parts where I would self incriminate myself. I told him the circumstances of whats going on and he just laughed about it saying my story was too insane to be fake. He ended up giving me a field sobriety test and if he didnt take the other 3 in, I am pretty sure he would’ve taken me too.

After they let me go I headed home and tried to forget everything that happened. I crawled into bed before my wife got home and cleaned myself up the best I could. In the morning I was woken by my wife and she goes “Hey I just got a call from the Golden Nugget Casino…. they said someone turned into your wallet. When were you there?!?!”

Haha… not sure how I explained that one but ya know what, I got my wallet back, I didnt go to jail, I had to have my car steam vacuumed and I only ended up spending $20 that night. Sure I lost $40 in nickels but my God, it was well worth it.

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.

Last night, my ex got drunk. He asked if he could have me back and without knowing he was drunk i said yes. Earlier today, he told me his parents’ friends gave him eggnog with rum last night and he doesn’t remember anything from last night. I thought that just maybe he would of remembered asking me out, so I didn’t tell him…

About 20 minutes ago he told me he was looking at my facebook profile and saw my changed relationship status and the comments. Once he asked, I immediately changed my facebook status to “in a relationship.” He told me he didn’t really mean to ask me back out which I kind of figured :(.

Its gonna be a lot of fun explaining to the people that I told about us getting back together why we broke up, especially my older sister and cousin.

Before I start this, allow me to make this clear: when I drink, I become one of the most belligerent, unnecessary drunks on the face of this Earth. I have some of the most fucked up drunk stories of anyone I have met in my lifetime. If you do not believe anything that I write. Feel free to e-mail me at khowell51091@troy.edu. I will be more than happy to line you up with one of the people that were present at the time this occurred to clear up any doubts you may have.

No person should EVER do what I did in the following story, when it gets to the point involving Anabolic Halo…you’ll see.

It started out as a normal enough night. Myself and a buddy, Dan, were following our normal Friday night regime. Which mainly consisted of sitting at my place, pounding beers as we awaited the start of the party. This night, however, accompanying the beer was one of my worst enemies—Vodka. Any clear liquor in combination with myself, ultimately leads to me doing something completely absurd. After the beer was gone, we were both decently shitfaced. The obvious decision ahead of us was to immediately start in on the bottle of vodka, to ensure that we were both as drunk as possible upon our arrival to the party. We arrived at the party and immediately took turns chugging what remained of the vodka before making our entrance. My last clear memory for the next few hours would be walking into the party.

I come out of my blackout as I am yelling in the face of some GDI kid. Dan is yelling at his friend about fucking his mother, or something of the like. I stop momentarily to gather my now rehabilitated senses to assess the situation. I have lost my jacket, it is now pouring down rain, there is no one else at the party but myself, Dan, and the two losers we are now repeatedly ravaging with insults; we essentially were making them look like bitches. Then it escalated slightly:

Bitch-Boy 1″ You motherfuckers wanna go to the woods?”
Bitch-Boy 2″Yeah let’s take this outside.”
Kevin” You guys are fucking pussies, you won’t do SHIT!”
Dan”OUTSIDE? WE ARE RIGHT FUCKING HERE!! FUUUCK!!”

At this point I should note that Dan is about 6′3 200lbs, and on an average weekend is an entity of pure drunken vehemence. His voice does not drop below anything short of “ear-piercing.” Anytime we drink together a long, vile, argument always eventuates.

These guys decide it is in their best interest to not continue this altercation with us, apologize for whatever the fuck we were arguing about, and ask us for a ride, due to the fact that they walked to the party and it is now raining cats and dogs. We agree to this for some odd reason, and walk to Dan’s car. After I ponder for a moment, I decide I am the Mario Andretti of drunk driving. If I am not blacked out drunk, I’m more than good enough to drive. Seeing as Dan had recently gotten a DUI, he agreed with my logic and had no remonstrations to my request to drive.

We drove for about a total of 10 seconds before I slammed into the curb and the passenger-side front tire blew out. Note that mine and Dan’s drunken rationale totally eliminated this possibility. We realized this was the cause when we went back for the car the next day and the rim had about a four inch section of it pushed inwards towards the center of the rim. In belligerent drunk mode, hitting a curb and blowing out a tire can result in this:

Kevin”What the fuck just happened!”
Dan” MY TIRE! STOP THE FUCKING CAR!”
Kevin”NO! It’s good.”
Dan”SOMEBODY PUT BOTTLES UNDER MY TIRES! FUUUUUCKKKKKKK!”

I stop the car and Dan confirms the tire is, indeed, flat.

Kevin”Dude that had to be what happened. I couldn’t have fucking hit anything. I would have noticed.”
Dan”FUCK YOU!”
Kevin” FUCK YOU! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT! YOUR MOTHER IS A WHORE!”
Dan”I TRIED TO FUCK YOUR MOTHER BUT IT’S HARD TO KEEP ASHES WET!”(Yes, my mother is dead and was cremated. Seriously.)
Kevin”FUCK YOU! I’m calling my roommates.
Bitch-Boy 1″Dude, you guys are fucked up. We’re walking from here.”
Dan”FUCK YOU!”

They got out of the car and took off walking.

I call one of my roommates, Adam, tell him our location, and ask him to come pick us up. He arrived shortly, and took us back to my house where there are people partying. We get there, go inside, and I discover my other roommate, Ben, who will be referred to as ‘James’ for the rest of this recounting for reasons not to be named; a few people I do know, and a a few people I do not. People I don’t know when I’m drunk equals someone for me to guilt-freely harass, degrade, and barrage with insults, as well ridiculous demands. This is how I announced my arrival:

Kevin”GET NAKED BITCHES!”
Dan”WHORES!”

This really offended this one whore, whom I will talk about later. She proceeds to start freaking out on Dan, in true trailer trash whore fashion. She runs at him and starts pounding on his chest and screaming about how much she fucking hates him already. This bores me so I look for something to do to entertain myself.

I see some guy I don’t know sitting on the couch in our den. I approach him and initiate this conversation:

Kevin”Quit nursing that beer. Chug it right now, pussy.
Pansy”No way dude, I’m not doing it.”
Kevin”Motherfucker if you do not chug that beer right fucking now I am going to put my dick in your face until you do.”
Pansy”Chill out man. No.”

I yank down my pants and pose in Captain Morgan style with one leg on the arm of the couch, and lean forward so my penis was directly in his face. He chugs his beer. I am currently satisfied with this environment. I pull my pants up, and turn around, surveying my surrounding. I see another guy I don’t know eating a Nutty Bar, which with my unparalleled drunken logic abilities, I immediately deduced was my roommate James’. I yell:

Kevin”YOU SNEAKY SON OF A WHORE! YOU BETTER SARAN WRAP THAT MOTHERFUCKER AND PUT IT BACK IN THE BOX—NOW!”
Pansy2″Dude, what is your problem? Just calm down.”
Kevin”NO! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS! NOW!”
Pansy2″You’re not that hardcore man.”
Kevin”MOTHERFUCKER! I WILL SHOW YOU HARDCORE!”

I walk to the refrigerator, and snatch this big container of James’ post-workout supplement, Anabolic Halo, off of the top of it. If you are not familiar with what Anabolic Halo is, it is described by their website as having: “75 cutting edge ingredients, 6 critical elements, and 3 cryogenic technologies that will synergistically force your freakiest gains ever.” Again, nobody should EVER, do what I did next.

I walk past Pansy2 and dumped out a pretty decent pile of this horrible creation onto the table in our living room, where 5 people were playing some drinking game. Dan grabs a handful out of powder out of the container, and prepares to throw it at some bitch playing the drinking game. I do not no what compelled me to do this, but I immediately snort all of what is in Dan’s hand, then start snorting the pile I had just dumped out on the table. I then proceeded to begin sequentially chugging the beers of the people sitting at the table. I was halfway through beer number 4 when I realized my head was about to explode. I reeled for a second before I began projectile vomiting all on the center of the table, cards and everything.

From what I’m told, the expression on my face remained calm. Kind of irrelevant I know, but I thought it was funny.

I regain my composure momentarily. Long enough at least to yell: “THAT’S HARDCORE! FUCK YOU!”

I then literally ran to the bathroom and proceeded to hug the toilet and completely empty everything in my stomach, while dry heaving in between trying to expel the rest of the Anabolic Halo from my membrane with repetitive nose blowing, the whore who had previously attacked Dan earlier in the night walks into my bathroom. I stand up and say:

I turn around and she just stands there and watches me piss. I finish she locks the door, snatches her pants down, and immediately begins pissing after telling me not to leave. I take a knee and extend the toilet paper to her, as the true gentleman that I obviously am. She finishes, stands up, pushes me against the wall, and begins violently making out with me.

It may or may not have been the single most erotic experience of my life. More than likely, not. Sadly enough, I did not manage to fuck this whore. But oh well, I always make up for missed opportunities.

That’s the last story worthy memory for that night. If you want more, comment.

Welcome to SUNY Albany’s Kegs & Eggs, a shitshow of a time starting before you would even be home from the bars running all weekend long. If shitty bear and omelet’s (potentially green for St. Patties day) at 6am don’t sound like a good time you need to re-evaluate your life. Think of your childhood, you have been preparing for a weekend like this since you first read Dr.Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham…if you forgot the classic story let me fill you in on how my weekend with Green Eggs and Ham will go:

So I will eat them dressed in only socks

And I will eat them with a side of sorority box

And I will eat them in your infested fraternity house

And I will eat them with your pet mouse

And I will eat them on bowling lanes and avoid couch’s with sex stains

Say! I will eat them with the Great Danes!

Now that I sold you on Kegs & Eggs with my lyrical rhymes, it’s time to pack your bags and get ready for an absolute train wreck of a weekend. The drinking begins between 3 to 4am (yes I really just said 4am) so be prepared to get zero sleep, hey your parents always wanted you to get an early start on the day…at least your making them proud this weekend.

Saturday March 14- Wow 4am Really Exists When I’m Sober!

I promise you when 3:30am roles around you will feel like shit and the last thing you will immediately want to do is start drinking, bottom line…don’t be a pussy. My mornings at Kegs and Eggs in the past have started with an alarm clock at 4am blasting ThunderStruck with a beer sitting directly next to the alarm, this shit will get you fired up. Remember it’s a privilege to party not a given right, so prepare for battle all day long. Pound a few beers in your room and get out  by 5am to go find a house party close to Washington Ave. You will be amazed at how many people are already tanked at such an early hour but it’s nothing compared to the bar your about to hit up.

Chubby’s on Washington Ave opens at 6am and there will guaranteed be a huge line when you role up. Chubby’s is the definition of what a shitshow would be defined as….once inside the bar you’ll realize what you just signed up for. The entire place is flooded with beer and people are literally pounding back brews and dumping beers all over each other…like you have something better to do at 6am?

Once you have had enough of Chubby’s it’s time to hit up some house parties, which will continue the festivities throughout the day. I will be hitting up a huge ragger on Hudson Street and hope to see everyone there. If you don’t make it to Hamilton or Hamilton Street there will for sure be parties going on close to Chubby’s so just follow the crowds. The house parties are really where it’s at considering everyone will be black out drunk before 8am hits, and most places will just charge you $5 for a cup to drink all day.

To phrase this in a nice way, there are some real sluts in Albany. This slut factor mixed with a morning full of drinking should always equal some random hook up or at least a bj in the frat houses bathroom. At some point during the morning you definitely will need to refuel unless of course your passed out covered in your own piss already. The great part about this is the egg factor of kegs and eggs, not all parties will have food but there is no doubt you can find some house party to grab a quick bite then head directly back to the bars or your new bj queen.

If you wake up in the morning at the hotel consider it a true accomplishment….if you wake up without dicks drawn all over your face consider that an accomplishment as well.

- TheCampusSocialite.com

This night was one that was very memorable for me. This past weekend was my senior prom, and I’ve been a good boy throughout high school, so I figure I might as well enjoy myself. The whole evening was great, and afterwards, myself, my date, and a bunch of my friends decide to head over to this kid Bobby’s house for a party.

I get there and his dad, who apparently has no problem with a bunch of teenagers drinking and smoking in his basement, let me inside. I got downstairs, and found the weirdest group of people I have ever seen at a party. You know how every high school has cliques? Well, there were the stoner kids who always are at these parties, the jocks, the preppy girls who are afraid to get their uggs dirty, the partywhores, and the AP kids; all at one party. There were beerpong and flipcup tournaments, kids smoking salvia and pot, and a lottt of alcohol. My main group of friends arrives a little after me, and this is when the drinking starts.

I start out with some corona, budweiser, and miller lite, and since my friends and I are still sorta new to the drinking experience, it doesnt take much to feel something, but it all tastes like shit. The whole night wasn’t marked my one single event, but by a bunch of weird things. Two girls I’d never met before came up and started dancing with me and spilled beer on my arms and torso, and then licked it off!

Soon, my friends and I are chilling in this sitting area when Bobby, the host of the party, comes over to us and is fucked out of his mind and worrying about cops and his dad. He looks at my friend Brian in a chair, and starts screaming, “Who the fuck is this kid? I’ve never seen any of you fucking people! Who are you?” Keep in mind he knows all of us quite well. My friend Jake then walks over to him and starts telling him we’re all one big can of cool beans, and we’re chillax in his book. My 6′ 8″ friend Matt comes downstairs garbling words and leans onto Jake and Bobby, spilling his beer all over my friend Joey. Then this stoner kid Mike, who’s been sitting still in an armchair for 20 minutes, starts slapping his face uncontrollably and laughing, telling he’s being tickled by midgets (salvia trip). I was getting pretty horny so I walked over to a group of girls and said “Who wants to let me put my dick in their belly button?” which unfortunately was to no avail.

As the night went on, the party got more and more sketchy. Some of the more “innocent” kids left after it got too weird for them. Bobby continued to flip out, especially at my friend Jake, but it was hilarious at the same time. This one time, I’m taking a hit of salvia when this girl Mandie pukes a waterfall over this kid Anthony’s shoes, telling this guy she just met she needs to be treated properly. I decide it’s time for a piss, I’m pretty drunk, and I stupidly decide to take one right next to my friends David and Patrick, who are talking. They laugh, and Bobby comes up the hill screaming “What the fuck are you laughing at?! You laughing at me?!” which scares the bajesus out of David. When some 23 year old creep shows up with cocaine at this 15-18 year old party, my friends and I decide it’s time to leave.

We walk down Bobby’s backyard, which is connected to my friend Charles’ backyard, where a tent was pitched in the backyard and we were all planning on sleeping. I come up from the basement to find my friend Eric, fucked out of his mind, jumping from one random location to the next and saying, “Level 10: complete, Level 11: Complete”, thinking he was in a video game.

We get in the tent, and weird shit just happens. My friend Joey starts crushing beer cans on his forehead without regard, while saying “Beer me” to Brian who tosses them to him out of a cooler. Suddenly, Joey look at David and starts flicking his tongue, to which David shrugs his shoulders and starts doing the same thing back. We invented a new drinking game, and then my friend Mckenzie and I stole the cookies out of the tent and ran away, after whipping half of them at Patrick.

After this, I’m kinda tired and decide to take a nap on the lawn. After like 20 minutes, David gets concerned, and rushes outside to wake me, thinking I’ve passed out cold. I get up, and he helps me into the tent (I needed help), and then a few of us leave for a puking session we could feel coming. Once that’s over, some asshole flashed a flashlight at the top of the hill near Charles’ house, and all of us bolt inside, save for Bryan, who decides to sit on a log saying, “I belong in the wilderness. I’ll wait for the wolves to take me”. Half of us crash on the couch in various positions in Charles’ living room listening to music on late-night TV (with Eric saying, “Where’s the music?” the whole time), and the other half sleep in the tent. Two hours later, at about 7 am, Charles’ dad walks in, finds the first conscious person he could (happened to be me), and says, “Donuts on the counter”. I think he new we were drunk, but he didnt care which is pretty chill for a cop. A half-hour later, we all wake up, with surprisingly no hangovers and get ready to head to the beach. Perfect prom night to remember.

After the events of this past weekend, I have another story to add to my drunken adventure memoir: how I got drunk at a dive bar and ended up at the forty-dollar-per-night motel next door with a forty year old crippled woman desperate for sex. Yes, this is a good one, so pull up a seat and enjoy.

It was Saturday night and I started the evening off with a forty-ounce bottle of Mickey’s, which is a Malt Liquor that has the tendency to mess me up something nasty. I met up with some friends in the “man-den”, which is a term for my friend Russ’ bachelor-pad basement, which has everything from a beer fridge to four different video game consuls (PS2, Xbox, Nintendo 64 and Nintendo Game Cube). We drank, we laughed, I played a little PS2, and - after an hour or so - we headed out to the local dive bar - a place called Clyde’s.

Clyde’s is a claustrophobic little joint that usually gets uncomfortably crowded, but is a good place to go if you’re looking for a mean between the “clubby scene” (i.e. hambone tool bags and dance floors with dry humping), and the young professional scene (i.e. “classy” girls who you never have a chance with because they’re looking for Johnny professional who makes a secure living in the financial district, those goddamn sluts). Yes, at Clyde’s you can get a beer, smoke a cigarette, not be judged, listen to some non-clubby tunes and maybe talk to a cute girl or two who isn’t looking for Johnny Wall Street, those goddamn sluts.

Anyway, I arrived at Clyde’s with two of my friends (Russ and Andy), already with a good, solid buzz in my system due to the Mickey’s. I then proceeded to buy a beer. And another beer. And then another beer. Pretty soon, I was feeling mighty fine. And it was at around this point that a lady hobbled into the bar with a cane and - for some reason - immediately gravitated towards me.

“You look like you know how to party.”

“You know it,” I said, kidding around, and also incredibly stewed.

The lady wore a Patriots shirt and had whitish hair, palish skin, very red lipstick and smelled like a cheap deodorizer - kind of like what you would find in Kitty Litter - and it made my nose itch a bit. To be truthful, there could have been a urine-type scent mixed in there as well (maybe cat pee), but I don’t want to elaborate on that too much, because I’m trying to be nice to this poor crippled woman.

“I have three hundred dollars and I’m looking to party,” she said.

“What do you mean? You want drugs?”

“Well…drugs…and something else….”

I immediately told her that I couldn’t help her out with the drugs, because I thought she may have been a cop or working for the cops or something along those lines (not to mention the fact that I don’t do drugs and don’t know where to get anything drug-related). She then proceeded to tell me how she used to be a mason and fell three stories off a building and has had several surgeries and is in an incredible amount of pain and needs something strong to take the edge off. I suggested she try extra-strength Tylenol, but she said she tried all that shit and it doesn’t help her in the least.

My memory of our conversation from this point forward is a little hazy, what with the alcohol and everything. I know that more words were exchanged and more beers were sipped and she may have rubbed up against me a few times and then, at some point, she started telling me how her husband had died four years ago and that I reminded her of him and that “it’s been so long” [since she's gotten laid].

“I’m staying at the motel next door. I have two condoms,” she whispered to me.

Now, of course, if I was sober, my brain would have immediately registered the fact that this was an incredibly bad idea (well, I’m pretty sure it would have). But I wasn’t sober. I was rather trashed and pretty much part-retarded. Drinking not only gives me the most amazing pair of beer goggles in the history of beer goggles, but it also makes me incredibly horny. Like, REALLY horny. Unnaturally horny. Probably no less horny than a man on Meth (from what I understand, Meth makes you want to hump anything in your path and take no prisoners).

So, instead of saying “I’m not interested” to this lonely woman whose husband allegedly died four years ago, I said…

“Um…I don’t know….”

“Come on, it’s been so long,” she pleaded with me.

To be truthful, I’m not really sure what kind of thoughts were going through my mind. On one hand, I felt bad for this woman and wanted to do a Good-Samaritan-type-thing, go back to her motel, give her some company and try to make her less lonely. But, to be truthful, I think I was seriously contemplating having sex with her. Again, I was drunk, and when I’m drunk, my brain is located between my legs.

“I’m with my friends,” I said.

“Well, bring them over. I have a box of wine and we can all party.”

‘OK, no harm in that’, I figured to myself. ‘Sure, we’ll go over and party and hopefully give this poor woman a good time. And as far as anything sex-related goes, maybe it will happen, maybe it won’t. I’m not gonna say it will. I’m not gonna say it won’t.’

So, to make a long story short…I ended up going back to the motel with her, even though my friends advised strongly against me doing so. They had absolutely no desire to go over there for a drink. They wanted no part of this charade. So I told them to chill at the bar and I’d be back in a couple minutes. And, again, I’m not really sure what was going through my head. Maybe I DID want to have sex with her. Or maybe I simply just felt bad for her and wanted to give her some company…for a short while. Maybe a combination of the two.

Whatever it was, I know I definitely ended up in the “Boston View Motel” a few minutes later, which charges forty dollars a night for a room that smells like about thirty years worth of stale cigarette smoke and rotten sex. The motel derived its name from the fact that - on a clear day - you can see the tips of the Hancock and Prudential building in the far distance, as it is located on somewhat of a high hill. Not really much of a “Boston View”, but technically, the name doesn’t lie.

The crippled woman’s room was accessible from the back of the motel, which was probably a good thing, just in case anybody I knew saw me walk into a place notorious for cheap prostitution and shady drug deals. With my kind of luck, one of my neighbors or aunts or uncles or grandmothers would randomly decide to go for a midnight stroll in their car, pass the Boston View, and catch a glimpse of me escorting a crippled woman into her motel room. That wouldn’t have looked good at all. No way.

Before we entered her room, I helped the cripple hold her cane while she put her cigarette out on the pavement, intending to save the rest for later. She then took her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door, which - she informed me - was directly across the hall from a family (with kids) who were paying $250 a week to live at the motel indefinitely. Maybe their house had been foreclosed and they were homeless. Such a thought depressed me. Crazy economy we’re living in. Insane times.

The cripple creaked the door to her room open and the first thing I noticed as I walked into the place was that the television was already on and that there were a shitload of pain-killers everywhere I looked, especially on the night stand beside the bed. There were also cardboard boxes filled with clothes, a Pringles potato chip canister or two, and what looked like a brace for her leg. This poor woman had certainly seen better days.

“Make yourself at home,” said the cripple. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Uh…ok.”

I sat at the foot of the bed while the cripple went to the bathroom and I pretended to watch the TV, but I don’t remember a damn thing of what I was watching because my mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts. Whether this was all a big set up. Whether there was a boyfriend in the bathroom ready to jack my ass. Or a cop ready to arrest my ass (for no valid reason, but he’d probably come up with one). Whether I should actually have sex with this woman. Whether she was tainted with STDs. Whether I could catch crabs from just being inside the Boston View Motel. Whether I would get the cripple pregnant and have to explain the situation to my parents. Whether I should just run out of there as fast as I could.

But, then, my phone rang.

“Dude, bail!”

It was my friend Russ.

“This is not a good idea at all.”

‘Maybe he was right,’ I thought, and for a quick moment I thought about leaving right then and there while the cripple was in the bathroom.

“I’ll leave in a second,” I said and then I hung up the phone.

At this point, the cripple came out of the bathroom, sat in a chair across from me and then proceeded to take her pants off.

“Is this OK?” she asked.

“Um…yeah….”

She removed her pants only to reveal a really bruised set of legs and a bunch of scars from where she had her surgeries.

“See…look at this. And then here…”

She showed me each and every one of her scars, maybe to get sympathy, but it really just resulted in turning me off from her completely.

At this point, my phone rang again. I answered it while the cripple hopped out of her chair and scooted back into the bathroom.

“Dude what the HELL are you doing?!”

It was my friend Andy.

“Get the fuck out of there!”

“All right, I’ll be out in a second,” I assured him, not knowing whether I was actually telling the truth. I’m not sure why I wanted to stay. Maybe because, if I left, I knew the woman would feel like shit. The best thing to do, I figured, was to wait for her to come back out of the bathroom and then I would politely tell her that I had to go. ‘Yes, that’s the best way to handle this.’

So the cripple came back out of the bathroom and I stood up from the bed, took a deep breath and began to tell her I had to split…but before the words could come out, she handed me a box of (what turned out to be) Durex-brand condoms!

“It’s been so long,” she reiterated.

I analyzed the box and noticed that the condoms had ‘vibrating rings’, which is a feature I’ve never been privileged enough to experience. I also noticed that it was a five-pack with only two left inside. ‘Where did the other three go?’ I wondered. Either she was lying to me about not having sex for four years or she’s had the condoms since her husband died, which - I believe - would mean they had expired long ago. Suddenly, I really wasn’t feeling so good about the situation I was in.

The cripple hopped into the bed - still wearing just her underwear with a long, black T-shirt - and slid beneath the sheets. All I can remember doing is standing at the foot of the bed, staring at the box of condoms, feeling part-retarded and not really knowing what to do.

But, then, my phone rang again.

“Dude! What the fuck!”

“Who is it?” asked the cripple, who could hear the shouts coming out of the phone.

“It’s…uh…um…my friends. They want me to go now.”

“Let me talk to him!”

She grabbed the phone out of my hand, asked who she was talking to, said she “was the owner of the household!” - whatever that meant, said something else, and maybe another thing…but the next thing I remember happening is hearing a really loud BANG! BANG! BANG! on the door.

“Jesus!” said the cripple and went to answer the door.

She opened the door and there was Andy.

“He’s coming with us,” he said, pointing at me.

“No, he’s staying right here.”

“No, he’s coming with us.”

“Get out of my home!” yelled the cripple and proceeded to slam the door shut, but Andy stuck his foot in the door to prevent her from doing so.

“I’m calling the cops!” she yelled.

“Yeah right you’re gonna call the cops. You probably got all sorts of drugs in here.”

It was at this point that I knew the situation was going very sideways and that it was only going to get uglier if I stayed. I basically meant well by “hanging out” with the cripple, but now I needed to go.

“All right, I better go,” I told the cripple. “I’m very, very sorry about this. It was very nice meeting you.”

More words were exchanged between Andy and the cripple, and they weren’t friendly ones. All I remember are the last three things that were said:

“Next time I see you I’m going to stab you,” said Andy.

“I know people who will have you killed!” yelled the cripple.

“Bring it!!!”

And that was that. We left the motel and went to get late-night bagel sandwiches at Dunkin’ Donuts.

But, yes, what a disaster the evening turned out to be, and all because I was drunk and basically part-retarded. I probably never should have gone back to the motel, even to be nice. Everything turned to shit, and that woman’s life is probably more miserable now after my attempt to make it less miserable. I don’t feel very good about myself.

The bottom line, I think, is that you can’t win with booze. You really can’t. Alcohol turns me into a person I don’t like and feel ashamed about when I wake up the next day. It brings out a Hyde-like personality, not that I get belligerent, but - in many ways - I get very ugly and destructive.

In fact, it was only a few weeks ago that a woman said she “heard stories about me” and that “you’re a pig, Matt Burns!” Let me tell you: I never thought the words ‘pig’ and ‘Matt Burns’ would ever be used in the same sentence together. Being called a ‘pig’ by that woman flabbergasted the hell out of me, because I always saw myself as a ‘good’ man. I mean, I did well in school and went to a decent college and took CCD classes to learn about Jesus and volunteered at a Mental Hospital and all that shit. Deep down I’m really NOT a pig (I think), but I guess, when I drink, I do display piggish behavior…often. So I can see why I could be labeled as such.

And, on some level, I guess I actually enjoy being considered a pig…because all my life I’ve been so ‘good’, whether it be in school or on a moral level, and I’ve always been somewhat turned off by that. But, at the same time, I think I’ve gone too far towards the opposite extreme - become too ‘bad’ - and I have to maybe find some sort of a mean now. Yes, indeed. A mean.

Anyway, as far as the cripple goes…if you’re reading this…I’m sorry for giving you a bad night. All I ever wanted to do was give you a good time. I never meant to hurt you in any way. Sorry. Honestly, I am. And I hope things get better for you.

As for me and drinking…it will probably continue.

Went to a party last night with captain morgans 100 proof. The party it self was awesome, had a beer pong set up and some really cute chicks.

Anyways, I was already pre-gaming before showing up, I was drunk. This kid that was hosting the party had a nice cigar box, so my buddy looked inside it. We asked if we could have a cigar and he said sure. I had picked out a very stale and very nasty cigar, just to puff when I got home.

Anyways, I take it with me just one cigar. I return drunk as fuck back to my buddies house. I claim actually how cool the kid was for letting me have a cigar. No longer then about 20 minutes later I hear a group of people coming through our front door. My buddy got a text saying someone was pissed with me, so I stumble down stairs.

The kid claims I stole a cigar from him, that I was lying and had taken two. I grab my jacket, in which he sees there is one cigar in my pocket and not two. He takes the cigar, claims that I am liar, and that I had stolen two cigars. Hes so drunk he starts to slur.

Now at this point any sober minded kid would walk away, however he was drunk and he needed to be helped out of the house. I decided against fighting him because I was too wasted and just wanted to enjoy my night and not worry about fighting some stupid drunk fuck over a single 5 dollar cigar.

It was time to pregame. Me, being the only dude, went to this girls house where there would be 4 sexy females there. Great ratio, right? Anyways, we are just drinking normally when one of these girls challenges me to a game of tic-tac-toe. “Tic-tac-toe?”, I ask her. “Yeah, it’s tic-tac-toe with shot glasses.” Wow, no im impressed. I’m still not entirely sure of the rules but basically play a game of tic-tac-toe and then have 9 shots between the two of you. Sickest game every basically haha.

So with me trying to kick it to this girl and this girl loving her style of tic-tac-toe we kept playing until the bottles were empty. This could be considered a bad idea. We head out to the bar and this is where the blackout ensued. I wake up the next day alone, on my bedroom floor. I stand up to look around my room and basically there is vomit everywhere. On the walls, my computer, and somehow theres some even on the ceiling. I have no idea what the fuck happened to me the night before. I sure hope I didn’t embarrass myself too bad. Fuck tic-tac-toe for shots and pregaming!

So as you can tell by the title, I had me some gin and a hell of a lot of it. I was at a sorority house off campus and it was their new girls getting in party. So I was full fledged ready to get some ass. They had about 4 kegs and 3 buckets of gin, on top of my pint of jack daniels that brought to the party.

I kicked off the night by killing the pint of jack with my one friends and I was feeling really good. It was still very early like around 10:00 pm. As more people poured into the party the gin bucket was ready to go and it was all downhill from here. I drank about 8 cups of gin mixed with some shots of vodka, rum,  and some cups of beer in between. I was fucking loaded and I knew that blacking out was in my near future.

I decided to cool down the drinking a little bit and headed to the basement to spit game to some girls. This was probably the turning point in the night because I started playing flip cup and I probably played about 10 games. So thats at least 5 full cups of beer more. I get off the table and head to the keg and there is my asshole best friend with a giant 711 Big Gulp cup filled with gin bucket and a beer funnel in his hand. Yes, you guessed it, me and him funneled gin twice each. This was the last thing I remember happening, my last memory was looking up at a funnel and tasting gin in my mouth. The rest of the night was stories told to me the next day.

I hooked up with the girl my friend was hooking up with for a few weeks. I also was hooking up with this other girl who wanted to have sex with me, but I was blacked out and she wound up dragging me into the bathroom where I puked for an hour straight. I then woke up in a random bed next to a third girl and i come to find out it wasn’t even her bed either.

Needless to say never funnel gin.. EVER.