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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.

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.

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.

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So, like most saturday nights, my friends and I decided to get schwaysted. Not to be mistaken with wasted, but schwaysted.

Schwaysted [shaway-sted] ADJ
Overly drunk; high; completely fucked up

Now that we have that straighted out, lets continue. We had a bottle of cake three-olives, some of the easiest 70-proof liquor to ever cascade down a throat,2 Gs of the finest herb, and a 15 pack of BL in 16 oz. aluminum cans. Me and my girls were pretty schwaysted.

So, I’m texting this guy I like. My friends, being over-the-top lightweights, are not even coherent enough to understand the word “stop.” I decide to offer my services in the fellatio department to my guy friend (for those who don’t understand, head; blowjob; ssing the d)

See, you may think this is revolutionary! Almost good for me!

But No. Not at all.

You see, my friend is a little shy. A little to inexperienced. But luckily he said yes. And then came the blackout.

I woke up the next morning in someone elses clothes, and most importantly, a different house in bed with a guy, but not my guy friend. My best friends boyfriend. WTF.

So here’s the blackout story (as told by Ginger [really, her name is ginger])

My best friends boyfriend came over to pick her up, after i called her. She was passed out. I grabbed on to him for balance and “accidentally” started making out with him. Him, being pretty toasty too, decided to kiss me back. We left and the rest is history.

Here’s a lesson for you all: Hide your phone is you’re planning on getting schwaysted. It’s the best idea.
Hey, you might not even end up losing your best friend and having sex with her scum bag boyfriend, who is now obsessed with you.

so. HIDE YOUR FUCKING PHONE.

Don’t drink and drive.

Spring Break 2010, a week during which one of myself and Dan’s most epic tales to date transpired. Due to not remembering a vast majority of events that went on throughout the week, I feel it necessary to only recount our most prodigious day that I remember most of, which happened to be Tuesday.

The day begins:

I awaken on a couch at Fat James’ beach house and survey my surroundings, seeing as I have no recollection of arriving there the night before. I consult with Wender, wake up David James, and demand we go to find Dan. I then eat a corndog and chug two beers before heading out, at this point it is approximately 9:00 a.m.

We arrive at the Days Inn to find Dan napping in the corner of the room a few buddies of ours had rented. He apparently had pissed himself in one of the beds and been shunned to the corner at some point in the night. After Dan had collected himself we struck out on a mission to get breakfast. Today, our salubrious choice of food couldn’t have possibly been worse—Mexican. In addition to the food, Dan’s breakfast consisted of two margaritas; I knew where this day was heading already.

After ‘breakfast,’ our next stop was indubitable: the liquor store. Dan comes out of the liquor store with a pint of the cheapest vodka available, a 30-pack of Natural Light, and yet another margarita, this one being about twice the size of the previous two. We then return to the Days Inn to rejoin our other buddies, who will remain unnamed due to the fact that they are actually respectable members of society. As we wait on them to get back from eating, Dan decides I should chug the entire pint of vodka.

It is now 10:00 a.m.

I have absolutely no reluctance and immediately tip the bottle up. After about a shot, I realize this was not a good idea. I lower the bottle of vodka and say:

“Dude, I think that was a bad move.”
Dan “Pussy! Finish that shit!”
Kevin “No man, I think I’m about to lose it.”

I should note I have only thrown up a handful of times in all of my experiences with alcohol. I don’t know if it was the amount I had drank the night before, the Mexican food, the vodka before noon or a combination of all three that caused it, but I immediately started hurling over the railing of the second floor.

After about the third heave of the orange colored phenomenon that had previously been residing in my stomach, I noticed a girl on the first floor laughing at my misfortune.

Kevin “DON’T LOOK AT ME!”
Heave number 4.

The rude bitch goes to her room and gathers her other strumpet comrades.

Heave number 5.
Kevin “THIS NEVER HAPPENED!”
Heave number 6.

My stomach, now empty, decides to stop humiliating me and allows me to recompose myself. Fully disgraced that I have already had an audience of 5 women watching me vomit up something the likes of which I’ve never seen before noon on a Tuesday, I decide we should meet up with our friends and continue what we started. We arrive at their room and I demolish the remaining pint of vodka within the next 5 minutes while Dan annihilates the rest of his massive margarita.

Our next several hours consisted of screaming obscenities at people from the second floor balcony of the Days Inn while working on the 30-pack. I can’t really discern any specific conversations because I was nearly blacked out drunk, but we were screaming things along the lines of:

“GUIDOS! LOOK UP HERE YOU PUSSIES! GET BACK TO THE SHORE!”

“HEY! WHERE ARE YOU FROM? NO ONE CARES! SHOW YOUR BOOBS!”

“BLONDE HAIR! STOP HANGING OUT WITH FATTIES SO YOU GET ALL THE ATTENTION! YOU SELFISH BITCH! BIG GIRLS NEED LOVE TOO!”

To a guy dragging a cross down the beach telling people they were condemned to hell:

“JESUS DIDN’T HAVE WHEELS YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE! HOW DARE YOU DENIGRATE THE GOOD LORD LIKE THIS!”

We then decide to strike out for the beach after meeting back up with Fat James and KO at Hooter’s. As we are walking toward the beach access, Dan starts projectile vomiting half-way through his beer. This is basically how it went down:

Heave number 1.

Dan “WHORES!” To all the people on the outside deck of Hooter’s.

Heave number 2. Resumes chugging his beer.

Heave number 3.

Dan “FUCK EVERYONE! AAHHHH!” Resumes chugging beer.

Heave number 4.

Dan “WHEN WILL IT END! FUUUUCK!” Finishes beer.

While this was happening I was practically awestruck and could do nothing but laugh and try to finish my beer, as I felt it was only just if Dan was finishing his beer as he was throwing up. Rather than continuing onto the beach with Fat James and KO, Dan and I strike off across the street to the Chevron to buy cigarettes. While Dan is in the store, I accost a homeless man.

Kevin “Homeless man! Do you have some DRUGS!”
HomelessMan “Man, I got these dime sacks, man.
Kevin “Let me see that shit NOW!” I then look at what this homeless man is trying to sell me.
Kevin “Homeless man, do NOT insult my motherfucking intelligence because I am drunk. These are obviously only worth $5.”
HomelessMan “It ain’t like that man, not at all. I could do $8.
Kevin “Drugs aren’t my thing, I was just curious if you were holding. Let me hit that fucking beer bro.”

I then proceeded, after thoroughly wiping the mouth of the bottle and trying not to touch it to my lips for fear of AIDS, Herpes, etc; to down this homeless man’s entire 32 oz King Cobra Malt Liquor despite his protests. Dan approaches me and my homeless compatriot with three 32oz Natural Lights, giving us each one. I let the homeless man know the respect he has gained by doing nothing as I chugged his beer:

Kevin “Homeless man, you are essentially now my best fucking friend. You are our BOY! You’re partying with us tonight.”
HomelessMan “Hell yeah man, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Times are tough.”

I hand Dan my 32 oz Natty and we set off across the road to get back to the beach. Before we even make it half-way across the street, we are stopped by two policemen who had been hanging out in the parking lot next to the store.

Cop1 “What the hell do you guys think you’re doing? You can’t have those beers open out here, at least put them in a bag.”

HomelessMan makes a mad dash for the beach. The cops just blow it off.

Dan “Sorry man, I didn’t know.” Dumps out both beers and throws them in the trashcan next to the port-a-potties.

The cops decide that is sufficient enough punishment and let us carry on our way. We finally get to the beach and see HomelessMan lurking at the bottom of the dune-walkover, conversing with one of his equally home-lacking affiliates. I immediately decide he has royally fucked up.

Kevin “HOMELESS MAN! WHAT THE FUCK BRO? We take you under our wing and you desert us like this? Nah, fuck that, give me that fucking beer.”
HomelessMan “Man don’t do me like that, it’s all I got.”
Dan “FUCK YOU! I bought you that beer you fucking bum, and then you just leave us like that.
Kevin “You could have had a great night, but you ruined it. I thought you were our fucking boy.”

I take his beer and chug the entire thing except for about a mouthful.

Kevin “Have fun with that, asshole!”

To be honest with you, I really didn’t like Mad Dog when I first met him.

I think we were in 7th grade, meaning we were both only about 12 years old at the time. He was a chubby son-of-a-bitch, and he had the dumbest haircut I’ve ever seen: a bleached-blonde bowl cut — though, to be fair, it was the late 90s.

He was an arrogant bastard, and for that reason, we eventually became friends. I’d say this probably happened when, around the time of my 17th birthday, he assisted me in leaving home to go live with the Amish — I’ll tell that story another day. We also became close during what I like to call “the Summer of Drugs” a few months later, when we smoked pot daily and tripped on cough medicine every weekend.

Anyway, fast forward to the two of us being 19. I was hanging out at Mad Dog’s place.

Now typically, around this period, Mad Dog’s place was always hopping. He had a revolving door of whores and scumbags going in-and-out of his grungy basement — where he always had obscure 70′s music blaring — every day and every night.

That is, all except this night.

You see, that night our hometown was being battered by a monstrous thunderstorm. It was a torrential downpour, winds knocking down branches, thunder shaking houses and scaring dogs and old people. Thus, even the filth that could typically be found at Mad Dog’s place wasn’t there — except me, that is.

So, there we were, drinking and bullshitting, listening to Pink Floyd or Yes or something, when suddenly, the room went black.

“Damn,” I remarked. “The fucking power went out.”

Mad Dog rubbed the stubble on his face. Then, after putting his cigarette out on his tongue, he said:

“Well… ain’t but one thing we can do.”

So, in the midst of the storm that had knocked out the power, the two of us grabbed his mountain bikes and went out for a ride.

I have to tell you, dynamites, whether or not you like riding bicycles, there isn’t anything like riding bikes during a thunderstorm through the center of a town when the power is out. It was as though the town had been evacuated, like we were the last two people there.

“Hey!” Mad Dog hollered.

“What?” I screamed back.

“My coke is gonna get wet out here.”

“You brought shit out here?” I smirked.

“Yeah,” he said, smashing his empty beer bottle in the middle of the road. “Well… ain’t but one thing we can do.”

Minutes later, geeked out of my mind, I was laughing maniacally as thunder and lightning erupted all around me. As we rode by houses, I screamed, “Fear the horsemen of the apocalypse, fools! The end is here!”

Eventually, we made our way down towards the country club. As we biked by, we couldn’t help but notice the giant white tarps that had been erected on a hillside.

“Hey, Mad Dog,” I pointed. “You think there are actually people in there.”

Mad Dog winced, growled, and biked towards the tents.

As we came up to the tarps, even coked up as I was, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. Had the people at the country club decided to try to shelter themselves outdoors with a tarp rather than staying inside? Did they figure, “What the hell, the power’s gonna go out, we might as well all stand under a fucking tarp and wait for the storm to blow over?”

Unlike me, who was actually doing blow over a storm… or the slut who lived next door to me, who was probably over blowing the storm…

Anyway, Mad Dog and I swaggered up to the tent, half hoping the winds were going to knock the tarp off any moment, sending all the middle-aged yuppies scattering for the Lexuses… or would it be “Lexi”?

But as we pulled back the curtain to the tent, we found no one inside. Instead, we found cases upon cases of booze.

There was wine, there was hard liquor, there was beer, both foreign and domestic, both micro-brew and macro-brew. It was a treasure-trove, especially to a not-so-rich 19-year-old.

“Holy fucking shit!” I gasped; Mad Dog was already halfway finished chugging a bottle of Merlot.

Apparently the country club folks had been having some kind of khaki affair that was interrupted by the storm. They must have all fled for the hills, leaving all of their fucking shit out, ripe for the taking.

Verily, I say, Mad Dog and I drank well that night, indeed. We guzzled gin, tapped tequila, imbibed bourbon.

We got fuckin’ wasted, folks.

Eventually, as I found a happy medium between the coke and the booze, I came to my senses and asked:

“Mad Dog, I, I hate to think this is true, but… I don’t think we can drink all of this. What are we gonna do?

“Well…” he belched while pouring vodka into his eyes. “Ain’t but one thing we can do.”

So, we haphazardly wobbled on the bikes back to Mad Dog’s house. Along the way we were stopped by a cop. He said, “Hey, you can’t be out here.”

“Yes,” I slurred back. “I am aware… Time is of the essence!”

Finally, once we made it back to Mad Dog’s house, we grabbed our cars. In a few minutes, we were back at the country club. We fucking took everything — all the beer, all the liquor, all the wine, the silverware, the glassware, the folding chairs, the tarp, everything.

By the time the power came back on, Mad Dog and I were too drunk to see anything anyway.

We blacked out during the blackout.

“Jou know schumthin’, Mad Og?” I smirked. “People schould put dare fuckin’ schit ‘way.”

Olympic snowboarding medalist Shaun White has been charged with vandalism and public intoxication after pulling a fire alarm at a hotel in Nashville, Tennessee, police said Monday.

White was arrested after trying to flee the hotel in a cab and kicking a bystander who tried to stop him, according to a statement from the Nashville Metro Police Department. The 26-year-old “appeared to be extremely intoxicated and smelled strongly of alcohol,” and a hotel employee accused him of smashing a phone, police said.