Welcome Back

Recent New in my world of Drunken Antics

Saturday, my friends and I spent a quiet night raging until 3 am. This night we brought with us a young chap (Ry) who found himself around 2 am shitfaced in the middle of a game we call 3 man.

Anyways as we continue to play 3 man, until 3am, we notice that now Ry is unconscious at the table with a long string a drool coming out of his mouth. Amazingly when we mention his name he springs to life and assumes it’s his turn to drink, so he pours a little beer all over his shirt in an attempt to drink and goes back to sleep… what a soldier.

As we continue playing, Ry slowly stands up and staggers inside the house and passes out on the couch.

A half hour later we are reaching incredible levels of shitstage 9. We are no throwing objects into the ceiling fan and watching them launch through the room and break shit. Finally we toss some Lysol strips into the fan and bam they launch straight into Ry at a bout 40 miles an hour and he doesn’t even flinch.

His shoes are on, its time to f*ck with him.

Nic suddenly has a brilliant idea to build a burger topped with all the condiments and put it on his head. We find this idea hilarious and sure enough there is a delicious cheeseburger now sitting on Ry’s head. For the moment, we think we have done enough and go back to drinking.

Back to throwing shit in the ceiling fan and what do you know more shit is just flying right out of the fan and hitting Ry in the head. Time to f*ck with him some more, the search begins for a sharpee.

Within 5 minutes a sharpee is located and there is a penis on his head and he has been clearly labeled a fag. We take another break to finish more beer.

Suddenly like Denzel Washington motivated a high school football team, we were in full swing of f*cking with the unconscious burger kid. Luckily its mid-July and the Christmas tree is up. We immediately start burying Ry with in the couch with the tree. Within 5 minutes, Ry was about 5 feet deep under ever plant in the house. Luckily this house had enough chairs to seat the academy awards so we started burying him in all the chairs and furniture we could find.

Ry is still not moving and the pile is about 6 feet deep. Time to add bar stools.

As soon as we get the bar stools on him we hear faint moaning and slight rustling of the trees.

Ry is slowly swimming out of all the shit.

He emerges with the burger on his shirt, “Whoa what the hell happened, I’m sorry about your furniture Nic.” He has no clue how he got under everything.

After all of my episodes of falling asleep with my shoes on, I now understand the hilarity in the face penis. Pay it forward b*tches…

Episodes with the Girlfriends Parents

Okay time to give you guys a glimpse as to why things just didn’t work out with the last girl. It may have had a lot to do with some of my episodes with the parents. It was probably a lot like that show on MTV… Parental Control, that was my life, but without the scripts.

Maybe the third or fourth time I had ever spent time with her parents may have been recorded as the worst hangover in history. The hilarity begins…

Yes the girlfriend had a 8 am soccer game on a Saturday morning and she is pulling the guilt trip that I have to go.

So that Friday night I spent my night terrorizing the village and plundering the booze like I typically would… I think.

Anyways I wound up like this

Damn shoes… Good news is I woke up on the couch and there were prints of those penises stamped all over their suede couch.

So as you can imagine, I may have woke up around 7:30 am, scrubbed a little bit of the sharpy and stumbled down to the soccer field to watch the young broad play having no idea that I was about to completely disappoint any confidence my girlfriends parents had in their daughters selection in men.

As I am looking for some fellow hungover boyfriends of the women’s soccer team, I hear a hello Tysen, looks like a rough night. I looked up the stands to see Mrs. And Mr. Disappointed parents. The faded penises and homosexual comments were still there on my face.

I was told they weren’t going to be there… and they don’t find my colorful face hilarious.

Yup, I sat with them the whole game, trying to restore any glimpse of dignity.

2 hours of awkward conversation with the parents is usually tough enough, now try doing it with a penis on your face.

Taking One for the Team

I think its time everyone knows what a great team player I am on the game field. This was the greatest moment in team play history since John Elway picked out Shannon Sharpe in double coverage in the red zone during the '97 Superbowl.

After a night of casual drinking, my roommate (nameless) and I decided to stumble back to our dorm for a quiet night of yelling at people outside the windows and making people fully aware that they were "faggots".

While on our quiet winter stroll home, we came across two females who were probably on their way home for a nice quiet evening of watching Oprah while crying. Luckily John Elway (myself) was calling the plays tonight, and we were ready to play some professional offense.

Being the great wingman I was, I immediately called out to the better looking of the two chickenheads.. "how much? for the both of you?" Soon enough they were on the elevator ride up to the penthouse dorm.

Being that I was in a relationship at the time, I decided to play the part of the classic wingman. Not only did I make contact with the good looking one, but I immediately introduced her to my roommate and moved on to make awkward conversation with her slightly larger and less good looking friend.

After a few hours of talking with the larger one, I noticed her friend has decided to leave, so immediately my roommate changes course turns to the large one and says "sorry I didn't get your name"... recognizing that my roommate is now open in the redzone, i silently make my way to my bed (which was about 4 feet away from my roommate's) where I would pretend to be asleep to set the mood for my roommate to punch the ball in for the full six (football analogy)...

Soon after I hear a noise like pancake batter being hit with a spatula... they are indeed f*cking.

John Elway not only made the pass, but he got downfield and started blocking for the extra yards.... in the same way I knew my roommate would not be able to give this young lady a good time without my encouragement. Silently I got up from bed, went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and stood right over the girls shoulder where the two lovebirds could see me.

In my deepest, most petafile-like voice i started mumbling to the girl... "yeah" "yeah" "you like that don't you". She immediately goes into a slow awkward romping motion and continues on him. Some chickenheads just don't give up. I start screaming.. "don't you dissappoint him, i think the last b*tch he brought home is going to be tough to beat..." she starts pounding hard. so hard the sound of rattling picture frames was all you could hear. In the same moment I was both John Elway and Mike Shannahan... "Come on... get it together, he's not even enjoying it."

If there is something to be learned here... some women just respond to a little coaching.

At this moment, I saw it was my time to leave the two lovebirds so I made my way to my desk (5 feet away) where I spent the night facebooking to the sound of slamming flesh.

Once the beer goggles came off the next day, we realized the young broad was much larger than we thought. My roommate and I always saw her in the cafeteria (this could be the reason for her size) and avoided any eye contact with the young beezy.

A little inspiration goes a long way.. we can all learn from John Elway when it comes to being a solid wingman.


This is what a typical weekend in my world might look like. Let's start with what I did this Saturday. Saturday night, we had plans for destruction. We started the night by going to a Real Salt Lake soccer game. Before going in the gates Chris, Brandon and I were sure to slam/shotgun a good 5 beers before heading into the gates of mayhem. Before the game the LDS church was kind enough to bless the stadium in a 15 minute long prayer. Life in Utah can be a bitch, especially when we noticed we were the only non Mormons in our section and we were getting the look of judgment from every family as we sat in our seat slamming the canned beer we illegally brought into the stadium. Not to mention we weren't exactly "reverent" in the prayer and may have completely insulted the entire section.

If it wasn't bad enough that we insulted their religion, when David Archuletta came out to sing the national anthem, we were relentless. OH MY GOD IS THAT DAVID COOK!! ITS DAVID GOD DAMN COOK!! OH WAIT WAIT NEVERMIND.. ITS NOT. Turns out we were also the only people in our section who were not a fan of David Archuletta. Then Real was playing terrible so in between beers we would stand up and BOOOO their shitty performance. By the end of the game we were getting stares all the way from row 1 for us to leave.

Anyways the game was over so we were off to Chris's house to shotgun a few beers with his parents for about 10 minutes. Just after watching the pride on Chris's mom's face at seeing her son is a raging alcoholic we headed downtown to some ridiculous party. Our buddy DJ Twix was DJing the party and we were going to show our drunken support. Luckily the party was right next to the bar, it was perfect. Every fifteen minutes I would slip off to the bar and have myself a classy long island iced tea and come back twice as drunk.

In Utah when you go to a bar, you can't get in until you buy a membership by law. When we got to the bar they asked if we were members (we weren't), but being as drunk as we were, we just told the bouncer we were members and he just let us in. We are that cool.

About 5 trips to the bar later and I am a walking production of Jackie Chan's drunken boxing. I am trying to karate fight everyone. Just as I go for a clean roundhouse kick on an Asian friend of mine, he whips out some f*cking Muay Thai shit and Bruce Lee's my ass down in some gravel. I get up to check out my wounds only to see there is blood everywhere on my Tony Hawk shorts courtesy of Kohls Department Store. Should have known not to f*ck with the asians. After this I am black out hammered and do not remember much. I do know there was a trip to Beto's restaurant according to my bank account.

My good friend Matt aka spider man (good story behind that) drives me home where my roommate is up on the couch with a fresh case of brews ready to rage at 3 am. I also had a new case of glass bottle Bud Lites, but instead of drinking them I thought I would trip and eat shit walking into the house and crush the entire case. There was broken glass and shit everywhere. A few hours of Xbox and a few beers later and I was at my limit and passed the f*ck out.

I woke up the next day without my wallet (Matt P had it somehow), car, and a huge gash on my knee with blood everywhere. I walk 2 hours home to my car. The best part is the walk of shame on Sundays, all the mormons are headed to church, but I'm going the other way hungover as fuck like I just left the bar. I'm starting to love the judgment stare.

That is a typical weekend. Not to mention Chris lost his phone somewhere. My friends and I should not be allowed in

Case Race Champions… Again

At Oakland, every year my close friends and I would host an annual case race for the athletics department. Each team has a guy and a girl and a 24 pack of their own choice.

Year 1: My partner was my girlfriend at the time who might be the biggest light weight I know. Starting off the race, Bret and I decided to go beer for beer to make sure we kept a steady pace. Sure as sh*t we went straight to shotgunning. About 20 minutes into the race we had at least 8 or so cans in our graveyard. Needless to say we put our teams out to an early lead but we had to take about a 10 minute break before jumping back into drinking more sh*t. About a half hour later and we had another 5 down, but for some reason my team is way behind in the race. I look over to see what my partner is doing and she is reading a book and sipping on her first beer still. I f*cking snapped in a drunken motivational speach at her and quickly caught her up to pace (she had 6 beers total). The race got incredible close so I knew it would be my time to step up and win this for my team. About 2 hours into the race I was able to convince her to pound her sixth beer and somehow we pulled it off.

At this point I am about 18 beers deep and completely plowed... I am stumbling into trash cans, smashing a lot of items on my head and such. Completely Sh*tf*cked.

Year2: One year later, I am a stronger drunk and this year, my partner (Chelsea) was quite a tank herself. This year the competition has heated up. Some of our competition was handpicked straight from AA meetings. It was like a NFL draft, people were had been scouting for weeks for the best alcoholic talent. So Chelsea and I knew what must be done... we had to get Bud Lite, it has great taste and never fills you up and never lets you down apparently. Chels and I sat down at the table... and went beer for beer for beer. 50 minutes into the race and we had one beer left, and finally at an hour and fifteen minutes (we were f*cking full and taking it slow), we were reining champions with record pace. Being a year older and a year wiser, I went straight to bed before I had a chance to make a total ass out of myself again.

Chels and I not only set the record, but we completely smashed our Alcholic competition. The next team didn't finish for another hour.

The best was taking the cans in the next day for deposits. We got a full 80 some dollars back from all the cans.

Jack be Quick... Jack made me faced as shit

0Here is a short tale of my adventures with an old nemesis... Jack Daniels. The last three times I have drunken Jack Daniels I have wound up spending my night completely and drunkenly belligerent and making a complete ass out myself. Here is my Jack Daniel's journal.

1. While taking pulls of Jack before heading into my buddy's high school hockey game. I wound up pouring more on myself that into my mouth. Hanging out with hockey mom's just isn't as great when you smell like bad peer pressure for their children. Anyway after the game I found myself crawling around on a Mexican Restaraunt floor and later puking myself to sleep.

2. After a good night of punishing a bottle of Jack at one of Nikki's great parties. I was informed from a reliable source the next morning that I had woken up from a passed our position on her floor... stood up and consciously peed all over her drywall before going back to sleep in a blanket I had found. The great thing is that I had not only gotten up to pee on the drywall.. but I also woke up to find I had peed the floor where I was sleeping as well... You fool me once jack, shame on you...

3. This is my most recent encounter with this Jack fellow. Once again, I found myself sound asleep on carpet floor (this time Dan's) after a hard night of a Dan party I was feeling unusually shitfaced and passed out on the floor for the night. While asleep I woke up to an incredibly deep sweat. I was sweating like Bush at an abortion clinic. Starting to panic I immediately rolled into the fetal position where I would find myself so lucky as to catch my puke in my hand just before it touched his carpet.

With the puke in my hands I began to make my way to the bathroom where I would hopefully silently clean myself of my regurgetated Big Montana courtesy of Arbys. As I took my first step from my bed, my stomache broke lose like a scene from the exorcist. I literally puked a trail of puke for a good 25 feet to the bathroom all over Dan's mom's carpet and drywall. I spent the rest of my night with a bottle of febreeze and a towell whiping floor until the sun came up. Every 5 minutes or so while cleaning I would stop and go puke in the bathroom and come out and work. When I got home the next day, I went straight past my family without saying a word and went to bed, where I would spend my next 3 days... seriously.

Moral: If your going to invite me over and you have a bottle of Jack, you better have better plan on me f*cking up your carpet and or drywall. You better have either rubber walls or some tile, that makes my job a lot

Short Bit on my Drunken Trials

Throughout my blog I'm going to start adding a few great short stories from my drunken experiences... try not to enjoy them too much, they only last a second.

How about this....

My first trip to a bar...

I had just gotten my fake ID my sophomore year of college

My friends were going to the shittiest and cheapest bar on the block in Michigan, or should I say... heaven. It was a typical Wednesday night in the life of myself. The bar special was tequilla shots for 2 dollars... my worst enemy.

My tab wound up being about 60 dollars from what my bank account told me the next day.

While my tab reached its peak, so had my spins. I was out of control. I stumbled into the bathroom only to stumble head first into the bathroom stall to whip out my shlong and wizz all over the walls. My buddy John seeing me in such an inebriated state put his arm around me (while zipping up still), and with his great wisdom told me it was time to close out my tab.

Being in the state I was, I closed out my tab and faded out to the streets. I walked about 6 miles back to my dorm that night. Every street corner I would stop and puke.

I spent the entire next day either curled up next to the toilet or in the shower spilling out everything I had

Sorry I’m I’m late… my my bike wouldn’t start

The year... 2006

The day... Hot as F*ck outside

The occasion... last final of high school to graduate.

The final.. Mrs Azzie's (old whore) 10 page English final at 8:00-9:30am

The day was a scorching summer morning in June. The salt lake pavement had the heat waves coming off it, making it look more like Baghdad. I was up late the night before studying for this English final that I could not fail. I was up so late, that I forgot to set my alarm cloc.

8:30 or so, I wake up nice and slow, roll over to check the time... SH*T IM NOT GONNA MAKE IT. I round house kick the sheets off my bed and literally somersault into a pair of Juan Diego Certified Uniform Pants Courtesy of Private Clothing Company. In 5 minutes I was in "appropriate school atire" and out the door (the belt was missing quite a few loops, but who the F*ck cares)

I run out to my car, and like a scene from hollywood where the killer follows the girl to the car, I am fumbling keys like someone is about to kill and rape my dead body. I hop into my car, turn the key... The car starts, and immediately goes into a huge roar of smoke and flames (it did this a lot, I was used to it). My Cadi was a lot like the the big guy in prison that passes the jail bate around for cigarettes. It was alway f*cking me.

Now I am carless, late, and I live about a 15 minute drive away from school. I had no other options, it was time to get out the G-Unit huffy that I had doped out with side mirrors and a new paint job and peddle through the heat to school.

Finally 9:00am the huffy's tires hit pavement, my front tire is completely flat, but f*ck it I don't own a bike pump. I decide to take the long way so I can swing by a gas station to fill up the tire for the rest of the ride. I pull into the albertsons gas station to see a nice big OUT OF ORDER sign on the air compressor. F*ck my life...

I peddle on...

No air in the tires, 100 degrees out, and a 4 mile bike ride... FML

9:20, I pull into the school parking lot, ghost ride my bike into some bushes and sprint through the hallway to class.

10 minutes left in the final, I bust the classroom door open like the DEA coming after some Columbeans... dripping sweat and completely out of Breath.

"Mrs Azzie Mrs Azzie, I... I... I... (Bending over putting hands on my knees) Sorry Im late, my cacacacar... wouldnt start so I biked here on a flat tire." Every student is now distracted from their test to see my sorry ass.

She gives me the test but makes sure Im well aware of the fact I have 10 minutes on a 10 page test. I jump through pages, dripping sweat all over my test. The class is now just cracking up at my antics, especially a young falacious broad, Carly. I am pretty sure she was turned on (-;. I fumble out a few coherent sentences for each question, and get it turned in.

Somehow I passed the class. I think when I told her my car wouldnt start... Even though she didn't smile, I think somewhere in that dusty old brain of hers... She thought about cracking a smile and I am glad my stupidity played a part in her first ever thought of smiling.

Destruction Drunks…

Everyone in their life time needs to meet my sophomore year roomate and the most destructive friend i have, Bret "Break Shit" M****N (sorry no last names or this kid will never get a job). Everytime this kid and I are in the same room, something is going to be broken or destroyed.

Example.. Checking out of our dorm room Sophomore year, we had a garbage can full of piss in the middle of the room, busted blinds everywhere, green stains all over the floor from St. Patty's Day. Not to mention, one step into our bathroom and the sticky tile would literally grab onto your shoe like a chinaman holds onto a first born son. Also I think we peed out the screen on the window more than in the bathroom all year (we were on the 5th floor").

Here is the most destructive night I can recall...

Bret and I arrive at our Kristie's apartments for a quiet night of alcohol abuse. Luckily Kristie is having a huge party so we decide to bring 2x 30 racks of booze to make sure we are drunker than everyone else. A little background on Bret, he was an incredible light weight until I shaped him into the destructive tank he is today. Your welcome....

10:00 pm Bret comments, "I think I can outdrink you now... I have been practicing."
10:01 pm I reply, "Let's see it pussy"

The game begins

Bret and I head to the bathroom to shotgun a few (dozen) beers.

10:15 We hit the second row of beers on the rack...

10:30 People are finally showing up to the party to find that Bret and I are completely sh*tfaced and already just finishing up the first rack (what a suprise right?)....

11:00 Bret and I are back in the bathroom for another shotgun, there is not more room on the counter (too many cans), and bret has no where to put the kitchen knife he was using to open the cans, so he stabs it into the drywall and starts tearing up the wall. At some point Bret falls into the door and breaks the door knob off. The destruction begins.

11:15 We return to the bathroom for another shotgun only to find someone is locked in there cause the nob is busted and the person is banging for someone to let them out... instinctively we head to laundry room to shotgun over the washer. We slam a few brews and toss them into the machine and head back out to the party.

11:20 Kid trapped in the bathroom is still pounding, our good friend Miles is now trying to get him out, just as he leans down to figure out how to open a door without nobs... BAM kid trapped in bathroom sticks the knife (that we left in the wall) through the hole trying to get out and it comes centimeters from Mile's eye. Finally Miles breaks the door down. Our shotgun sanctuary awaits us. Needless to say, we did not drink one beer that night, they were all shotgunned.

11:30 Bret is in the kitchen trying to make food
11:40 Burned Pizza

12:00 Another shotgun, The mirror is coated with beer...
12:15 Miles is kicking some kid's a$$...

12:30 I am blacked out

12:00 pm Next day I wake up to Kristie's nagging about her busted door, drywall, washer, kitchen and somewhere a ruined deck of cards, and not to mention the beer i spilled that broke the laptop that happened to be sitting on the table.

This is an example of what an average night might look like. The best moment of our destruction would still come from one of these two scenarios.

A) Me drunkenly stepping on the edge of Kristies litter box for her cat and launching the shit all over her bedrooms
B) Bret banging a crack whore on some kids kids bed and busting a nut on the sheets right as the kid comes in....

Lets take a vote on that one.

Anibal House… for Animals and the homeless result

During preseason with the soccer team at school, the team was always temporarily put in an old dormitory that the school no longer uses until school starts. Well our last year when everyone was told to move out... Bret and I had not signed up for a dorm yet and decided to enjoy the free rooms for a while. We already pay up the ass for tuition anyways, so why not?

Bret and I lived in Anibal hall for almost 2 months all by ourselves, before being thrown out on the street like a bomb in Bagdhad. An entire dorm building left completely to the two most destructive kids on campus. How it took them 2 months to catch on to our destruction, I will never know....

Activities in the building including riding my bike ass naked through the hallways, taking shits in trash cans of other empty rooms, peeing everywhere but toilets, someone nameless busting his nut all over the desk in one of the empty rooms and such.

We even had time to record our own techno album which we played at max volume every day. "DADDY IS NOT COMING ON ANYONE" should have hit the top forty for sure.

When you walked into the building, there were overturned tables everywhere with chairs all over the place... as you walked down the stairs to the rooms you had to step over the vacuum as well as the couch that we skiied down the flight of stairs.

In fact, the vacuum led to a serious concussion;

Bret and I spent one afternoon at a friends house as he was preparing to throw a bigass party at his new house. We got to his house around 1:00 and by 3:00 Bret was pissed drunk puking and passed out in some akward sitting up position. Party guest finally arrived around 9:00 pm and I am pissed drunk. Bret finally emerges from the bathroom about 9:30 and is ready to RAGE. By 11 o'clock Bret's new chickenhead is taking us home. I get home to an angry girlfriend, BLAH BLAH... i get to party at 11 to find you piss drunk leaving.. LOL how is it that people are still suprised to see me drunk at early hours of the afternoon. Walking into the dorms, I am headed down the stairs when I trip on the vacuum and go headfirst down the stairs and hit my head. The trip gave me a severe concussion that forced me to sit out two games as a result. Since then, I have cut back on combining stupidity and drinking... at least during the season.

Back to Annibal

Every student we saw walk by the building we would immediately accuse them of being a homo. Anyone who walks by Anibal is definitely a queer.

Before we were forced to move out, Bret was going through a phase at this point where he was now using the sink instead of a toilet.

We even started to have plans to rent out some rooms on craigslist to immigrant families to make some money. We would keep the East Wing to ourselves of course...

Then one day we came back to the room to find our room locked with all our shit in it. They had caught onto us and kicked us out.

I spent the next month living homeless out of the lockeroom before finally moving into the dorms.

Signing up for a dorm late usually means you get a weaird-ass roomate that they assign you.. yeah my roomate thought he was a f*cking pilgrim. He had the top hat with the belt on it and shit. It was bad.

Ring in the New Year... Round One

New Years Eve a few years ago would have to go in my top 5 of crazy ass nights. A few extraordinary gentlemen and I began the night by crashing Matt's dad's keggar he was throwing for all of our parents. A full keg of fat tire and 6 thirsty kids would be the start to a great night.

Funny thing about parents... they act like they don't know how to play beer pong and such... but they are just acting dumb. Nick's mom knew exactly what was going on when she saw me upside down on the keg doing push ups. Whether you like it or not, your parents have mounted the keg at sometime in their lifetime.

As the parents party starts to slowly die down around 10 o'clock, we notice Andy has yet to take a drink in front of his parents, so he has earned the nickname "pussy" for the night.
'
Andy seems to wear the "pussy" crown a lot around our friends as you will see in my other stories. He is the royalty of vaginas at times, but tonight Andy would clear his "puss" status for the rest of his life.. or until his next "bitch move".

Finally around 9:30 we take the shitshow of drunken kids and Andy on the road to meet some chicken heads at a party out on the "west side".

9:45 we arrive at the party with the chicken heads only to notice a clearly unhappy 14:1 male:female ratio. Not to mention we were pretty much the only kids in the room not polynesian. The 3 girls there seemed to be the only ones happy to see us... everyone else in the room was putting off an "Im gonna kick your ass" vibe.

Luckily my friends and I are the most oblivious F*cks you will meet and immediately take to drinking all of the "angry mob's" alcohol. Not to mention everyone is mackin their BeeZees. We were passing their women around like the last cigarrette at an NRA convention. Seriously, I think everyone saw first base.

Finally the only white kid there emerged from the crowd in time to tell me, "hey everyone here is not happy to see your friends. I think you guys are hilarious, but I think you should leave" As he says this to me, the kitchen suddenly begins to wreak of natural gas. I look behind me to see Chris being choked up against the stove and he has accidentally turned on the burners. The entire nation of Samoa was now moving into the kitchen to kick our ass. We had broken the law of the land at some point...

Anyways.. Chris is being banged up against the burner and now the lighter is clicking and instantly God sent us a moment of peace. Everyone panicked and someone hurried and got in and turned off the lighter before a "Leathal Weapon 4" bomb went off. As soon as the clicking stopped there was about 10 seconds of silence and the "angry mob" errupted again. The white kid was quickly getting us to the exit trying to hold off the angry mob.

We finally get out on the front lawn suprisingly in one piece. We stop for a second and realize we were missing someone. Just as we were trying to figure out who was missing, we look in the front window just in time to see Matt's b*tch ass being tossed into the blinds... His face just came through the slots on the Blind and literally went flat onto window. Just as he was able to pull his face off the window we could only see a big brown hand reach throught the blinds and grab his shoulder and pull him back through the blinds.

I thought Matt was going to die at that moment, but it would have been a great way to go. Finally white kid #1 is able to save our friend from the pack of wolves inside and we are all out on the front lawn now.

Everyone in the group takes a second to think about wtf just happened when angry man #1 comes charging out to the front of the house screaming at us to leave. The six of us start heading towards Andy's mom's suburban and we notice the kid is chasing us.

Angry man #1 comes up behind Sean and takes a swing at the side of Sean's head... what he does not realize now is that the tables have turned... he was outnumbered now. Andy being the "bold pussy" he is, senses the danger and immediately springs into action like he's Chuck Norris ready to save Earth, and pops the kid in the face, knocking him down on the ice... The angry man #1 is scrambling to stand up on the ice so Sean takes this opportunity to lay in a nice Beckham-like kick to the kids face.

Looking back to the house now we see the whole party is running out of the house, it was like a scene from vietnam.

Meanwhile I was in safety.

Fortunately for me, I was alrady comfortably seated in the back seat of the car ready to accept the "pussy" crown. I didn't even take shotgun, because I thought the tint in the back would keep me safe. In my defense, I was inebrated (typically) and in no condition to fight. At least I puss out with some drunken pride right?

Anyways, everyone is running to the car... Andy being the super hero he is takes the time to pull a badass slide across the hood before getting in. And is in and the doors are locked now, but there are about 22 guys outside that are bigger than the suburban we are in and they are punching the sh*t out of the windows. Andy gasses it, but we are not moving, we are parked on ice.

Bravely, I put my hands over my head and tuck down between my legs to protect myself; not just from the shattering of glass, but also from the angry fist that would be following it. As we are burning in the spot, the backend of the car goes into a tailfish and clips the kid hitting my window. He falls down on the park strip and finally we are moving.

As we pull away I roll down my window shouting... PUSSY PUSSY PUSSY. HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW... we got away safely as always and when we got home, we made sure Andy got first dibs on all the hoes. The great thing is, even today when we meet women at the bars, Andy is always sure to tell how he "saved new years". Truely Andy was a badass and we can all learn from his Jodi Foster-like courage that he obviously have picked up from the movie, The Brave One.

Daly Sails the Angry Sea, and the Pink Monster they Replaced him with

This may be my craziest and the most hilarious story to date. The whole story is about a week long...

After just graduating from high school my fellow friends and I decided to take our new education and throw it away and make some bad decisions on a road trip to California. Knowing we were minors and would have problems buying alcohol we decided to inventory some "drank" for the long open road.

200 dollars worth of booze make my memory a little hazy on the whole week, but there are some things I can never forget.

We arrive in California and like any Utard, we all go run straight to the ocean in a fit of joy, because we only see the f**king thing on these rare occasions. Also, this is our first shot at some real "bee zees", the Mormon girls at home are a little too prude for our taste.

Day two in Cali, Dan rents himself a surf board. The other 5 of us recognize we have no talent in that sort of sh*t so we hit the waves on our other two b*tchin boogie boards. Nothing draws the ladies eyes like a man on a boogie board.

By the way, you know how doctors say you shouldn't swim an hour after you eat, well you shouldnt swim only 4 hours ino a VERY heavy hangover. Bad news was, our inventory was already gone (hence the nasty hangover), good news was, we found a local asian store that didn't ID.

About 3 o Clock we hit the water, not realizing that hardly anybody else on the beach was in the water. About ten minutes into our swim we notice the Sea is very angry and there is a REDICULOUS rip tide sucking us away from the shore faster than an asian doing calculus.

Nick's incredible fear of the ocean makes him the lucky one as he is at knee deep water watching the other 5 of us get sucked into the blue abyss. He refused to go past the knees.

Luckily Chris Andy and I were able to grab hold of the boogie boards and paddle back in. But still, we were about a quarter mile away from shore by now, and paddling that far with a hangover is always a b*tch.

A few seconds later we hear some cry for help and to our left we see Sean cooking by us doing 360's with huge waves crashing in on him. He is speeding out to the deep end without any boogie boards or anything. The funniest part was the way he would say help. He would get out the "Hu" sound and a wave would smash in his face and he would cough for a bit and go "LP!"

Dan sees him struggling and takes off after him on the surf board, at this point, Sean is now a good half mile off of shore.

We finally get back to shore to find Nick hasn't moved yet from the shallow water for help, I think he was too entertained.

Andy's quick Davis Hasselhoff-like reflexes spring into action as he runs to get a life guard.

The life guard goes in after sean and Dan, They are so far out now, that we can't even see the three of them until we see Dan cruising back in on the surfboard. A little while later we see the life guard carrying Daly's limp body back to shore.

I thought, Shit he is dead...

Turns out he was fine, he was just too tired to paddle back so he just let the life guard bring him in.

Nick still hasnt moved from the shallow water...

The life guard comes over screaming at us, "didn't you see the flag?" "you know not to go in without flippers" "don't be such idiots"

Yeah like we know to look for a f*cking flag.

So the week went on, and Sean and Nick never left the shore again. Sean not leaving the shore meant he got some wicked sun burns. The guy looked like a fricken cherry.

Finally we met some girls from Arizona, we invited them back to our hotel to hang out. They saw the booze stash and ran like hell. Turns out the only girls we met the whole weekend were mormons.

Good times...

Don’t Sue me

I think that drinking is a great activity in moderation. My stories are in no way supporting underage drinking, they are only to entertain. Never drink and drive and always be responsible. As for being an idiot... sh*t happens.

Tazzer Ty is Born

Here it is, my greatest story. If you get sick easy, you may not want to read this. I'm going to attach the police report later this week.

Chris, Jake and I headed up to Michigan State for the weekend for a few laughs and drinks. Early in the evening we meet up with Chris's high school friend and my accomplice.. Tim. As we reach peak drunkeness we head to some frat parties for some respectful drunken destruction.

After arriving to our first frat party, we buy the $5 keg cup only to stand by the keg with your arm out for a good 45 minutes to get a drop. Frats are lame, I advise nobody to ever involve themselves with those idiots. Who am I to talk though right?

The four of us decide its time to leave, Chris's ex girlfriend and my eye witness is coming to pick us up on the lawn, so we wait on the curb finishing canned beer we had found in the fridge. She is taking forever and we are belligerent so we begin calling out to pedestrians, "Hey F*ck you". We were able to draw the attention of the two cops on bicycles that are still left in our century. They pull up right in front of us and ask us for IDs.

The sh*t has hit the fan... Chris pulls his phone out as our ride just pulled up and answers it... The cops are pissed.

Tim hands over his ID and just as he does this, Chris takes off and kicks down their bikes and runs over to the get away car. Tim panics and runs, I am by far the drunkest and being to slow to react start running as the cop grabs my arm.

I struggle free just as the first cop hits me with the first taizer as I fight my way free. The first taizer is in my jacket and I don't feel it so I struggle free, ditch the jacket and start to run away. I roll my ankle on the curb and my shoe pops off as the second cop catches up to me with a drive taize (where they stab you with it).

He doesnt get me very good but its enough to slow me down, but still I keep running. The other cop (Dbag1) is reloaded and shoots the taizer into my back dropping me to the ground. Now I am laying on the gound on hands and knees in some serious pain. The whole frat party is outside watching me get a$$ raped by these twats, and there is a lot of RODNEY KING RODNEY KING chants.

I am laying there on hands and knees and the cop tell me you have the count of three to lay down... he goes 123, counting faster than rainman in las vegas and taizes me again... I was done running now, and the reason I was done... I had sh*t my pants, and peed a little. THATS HOW BAD THAT SH*T HURTS.

They call dispatch who cuffs me and puts me in the back of the cop car. Yes I have sh*t in my pants.. do not think i did not hesitate to rub that sh*t all over the backseat of those dbags.

By the way, you should have seen there faces when they found out I didn't have any drugs on me.

I am carted off to the hospital where I am cuffed to the gurney and am left in the care of the most beautiful nurse. Its hard to spit game with soiled golf shorts. I fill about 2 pitchers with piss and am tested for irregular heart beat and taken to the drunk tank where I am to spend the night with East Lansing crazies with sh*t in my shorts.

1400 dollars later I am charged with litering, public intox, disorderly conduct, and MIP.

Literring... sorry I couldn't hold onto my beer when you were kicking my a$$ officer.

Michigan State press was kind enough to mention my antics in the column of their newspaper.

I walked out of jail the next morning, threw my pants in the dumpster...

Tim had a warrant out for his arrest, after I lied to them giving them a fake name.. having no idea that they had his ID. He was let off with no charges and we are all very proud of him.

The Night I Left the Shoes on…

The year was 2006. I was but a wee freshman in college enjoying my life... Until that fateful night. The time; was around 10:00 pm from what I remember, my roomates and I were going down to the "hood" for a night with some girls we had met the week before (that's another great story in itself). Yes we were headed into downtown Detroit. Much to my dismay; 8 am class with mandatory attendance never crossed my mind, until it was too late. The night went something like this.

10:00 pm Natasha arrives to pick up me Jake and Chris to head back to her house, she is surprised to find us already drunk.. how naive?

10:05 Jake invents this game in the car where you take a shot then he grabs your head and shakes it till you have a headache.. somehow it does make you drunker.

10:30 We arrive in Detroit at Natasha's house, somehow there was a misunderstanding there was no other women there.. the ratio sucks. The three of us pick up the pace on the bottle.

11:00 Upset about the ratio, Jake is under some impression he can walk 2 hours back to some booty calls house... He takes off running

11:01 Not wanting to be the third wheel I run after this Jake kid... Only to lose footing and go head first into the neighbors lawn ornaments... Grass Stains & Broken Flamengos = Early Bed Time. Apparently he was upset the next day, who would have thought vandalism in Detroit was such an issue?

11:30 I'm sound asleep on the kitchen floor, shoes are on. The rule has been broke (I am now free to be written on)

Next Morning

7:40 am Phone alarm goes off; I am still on a fouton alone in the same dumb sweater I was wearing the night before and jeans. I get Chris up out of bed and in 5 minutes we are on our way to get me to class before I lose attendance points and fail.

8:10 Natasha pulls up in front of Pawley Hall; everyone in the car is grinning, besides Jake who is probably on a milk carton somewhere after disappearing in Michigan.

Chris leaves me these words "Are you sure you want to go? Don't you just want to email him with a good excuse about missing?"

I insist on going, I get out and head into class

8:12 I walk into class to draw the total attention and akward stares of the class. I take my seat in the back and try to sober up a bit.

8:30 The hangover is setting in, I am starting to sweat in pain, I take my sweatshirt off to see writing EVERYWHERE on my arm. Giant penisaurouses and such. Realizing what had happened I dart to the bathroom and look in the mirror.

Written on my forehead is the word FAG written in Eye Liner, not to mention the full makeup treatment, yes mascara, blush... the works. I had been flamed without knowing.

I return to class, after class my teacher approaches me about taking the class a little more seriously... does he have any idea what I went through just to save attendance points? Senseless prick right?

The astonishing thing... no one in my class thought it was funny at all. Something is wrong with those people. What's that quote from Bush, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice... well keep checking the blog, I'm gonna get into round 2 of the shoe rule disaster; where I am painted like the blue man group and pass out on and destroy a suede couch.

Camping my Face Off... Literally

The day before I left for our preseason training camp or as I should say.. absolute hell, my friends (Matt Chris Andy & Nick) and I had a brilliant idea to have a quiet "trip" in the outdoors camping.

We arrive at a campsite in the middle of BFE and unload, during the long drive to BFE I was able to just about clear out the top row of the thirty rack upon arrival. I was tanked... it was about 6 pm.

We begin setting up the camp gear, I am little help just breaking shit and falling so I unpack one chair and get back to my busy work of drinking.

15 minutes later I have a sudden urge to go cut down a tree. The next few hours of my night are spent racking up blisters all over my hand for about 2 hours of fire wood. Not to mention the giant stump hanging out right next the fire that was bound to cause problems.

Night comes in and at this point our "guys night out" has turned into a bunch of men completely shitfaced drunk dialing every whore in the phonebook.

Another hours passes and Matt is hunched over puking...
Another half hour and Andy is hunched over puking....
Fifteen minutes later, and it Nick's turn
Now it is mine... I am spinning and sweating like a m*** f****er I choke it back.

Nagel is back to puking, as I lean back in laughter the arm rest on the chair snaps and bam... I am on the ground ready to yak. As I try to stand up.. I realize we set up our camping site on a damn near cliff of a hill.. I am stumbling downhill faster and faster.. my feet are no longer able to keep up.

I am at an out of control sprint now headed right toward the tree stump. My fate is inevitable.

BAM I stub my toe on the stump and am launch head first into the ground.. My face slid across sand a good 5 feet, let me tell you, I was in pain, seeing as I was in some headstand break dance pose with my feet off the ground sliding for a good few feet.

Needless to say I came away from the night looking like two face, the batman villan.

As I am laying there in pain.. the spins have won and I am yaking. It's bed time, and I can tell you, my toe was definately broken.

Morning comes, beer shits in the woods=lots of digging

I head home and head to the airport for my first year of preseason training camp, I arrive at the Detroit airport to meet my new coach. His first words... J*s*s Chr** what the hell happened to your face? First impressions are a b*tch. Everytime something went wrong my coach was sure to ask if alcohol was involved. How could he tell?

Yes this face injury would set the tone for a great decade of college.

Beer Bong Becomes My Bitch

This story is my most glorious moment in my drinking career. It begins with a great party at Marisa's where the glory began. Being underage Dan, Matt and I were able to call the coolest adult criminal we knew to gather a good 90 or so dollars worth of booze for the night.

This night, everyone was awaiting my arrival as I had promised an attempt at a world record beer bong attempt. Dan P would also attempt as well.

Dan begins with a 40oz in the tube and gets all but a swallow hunches over and pukes.

It is now my turn, as we spent the next thirty minutes waiting for the foam of the I gfour beers I poured into the tube to settle Dan is back on his feet and in bad shape.

The foam is down the bong is up and the beer is good... I throw my hands up for a short celebration. I was there hero for the half hour. After that I found myself face down on the lawn puking with Dan.

Meanwhile the we were unaware the dogs had been cleaning up our mess as I struggled to fight him off of licking my face after he finished cleaning up after Dan.

I return to the party where my glory is fading as I am no longer able to communicate.. I am plowed.

I make my way to the bathroom where I end my night.

Meanwhile my DD Dan M is completely smashed chief in Marisa's parents bedroom in her dad's robe. He was caught pissing in her parents dresser completely and he was completely incoherent... HEY RISA, YOUR DRESSER WON'T FLUSH.

I wake up in the bathtub and another DD has stepped up, the infamous Brian; I don't remember anything beyond this point so I'll just skip to the next morning, but apparently something ridiculously patriotic happened.

Imagine waking up at home butt naked, soaking wet bed (I peed), and an American Flag in my hand. Let me tell you, mom was not proud to wake up her son at 9am to visit grandma.

Keep checking the blog, I have got an even better story of pissing the bed, but this next time.. it was on purpose. Not to mention my next failed attempt at breaking my record, but the next time I wasn't lucky enough to be outdoors.

Welcome to My Life

Yes, it is finally here. FML has got nothing on my life. I stand before you, the world's biggest idiot. I'm 21 years old, and I tell you all these stories are true. I know what your going to be asking yourself, is this kid really that stupid? The answer, just shut up and read... it's entertainment. This page is welcome to all; except any employers, teachers, etc... Enjoy.