Drunk 10/19/2005

Yes, I went to watch hockey with the intentions of having 1 beer. I had more than one. I love the drunk, and I am it. James is doo-dooing right now. He is also the drunk.We wons the game and fucked their mothers at the same time. Guinness is the best and I have one. I likes it. James is talking form the bathroom, kind of gross. Gonna make that poo poo, gonna make that pee pee. gonna make that doo doo, mix it with with that wee wee.

Weekend of Extremes 3/13/2006

Yet another weekend goes by, yet another series of drunken events.  This weekend was the weekend of extremes.  WOOOOOO, EXTREME!!!!

First event, extreme snowboarding….down the stairs.
If you know Goss at all, or have read these blogs, you know he will do basically anything you tell him.  Withing about 5 seconds of Matt saying “Goss, you should snowboard down the stairs,” he had his snowboard ready and was padding the bottom with couch cushions.  He strapped on of his feet in and inched toward the edge slowly.  In an instant, he hit the slope of the stairs and went to the bottom in about a total of 1 second.  I wish I had video to post of it.  From my vantage point, I thought he broke an ankle, but he’s apparenly pretty flexible.  I don’t believe his ass will be the same after the smashing it against the stairs.
Rating – No house damage, no severe bodily injurys – Gold Medal

Next event – Extreme makeover (home edition) -
So Dave breaks the cardinal rule of living in our house:  Don’t leave your room unattended while we are drinking.  Not like he had a choice, but we still had to fuck with it.  First mission:  Turn everything backwards.  NOt like pictures and things, like his bed, dresser, all his closet hangars, the calendar, the computer monitor, the DVD rack.  All of it.  Here’s some pictures:

We felt this sifficiently F-ed up Dave’s room while he was gone.  We also put a carboard sign on the door that said “Extreme makeover: Home Edition (In Progress) on his door.  Later, after many more beers/Jager, we thought it wasn’t enough.  Here’s what else we did:

Yes, that is an entire phonebook worth of paper torn up in his room.  We unanimously decided to clean that up before he got home when we all woke up the next morning thinking “Shit, Dave might kill us for this.”  The pages filled an entire 33 gallon garbage bag.  Dave’s reaction if the morning of “Oh god, what the hell is this?” when he saw the sign was still rewarding enough.

There were other events like “Extreme fight with cup-o-noodles” and “Extreme dropkick stuff into the neighbors yard,” but those are pretty self explanitory.

Catch Up 2/27/2006

It’s been a while, I’ve been vacationing form my normal monotonous life for the past week and a half.  Seattle/Portland kicked F-ing asses.  In fact, compared to Spokane, if the cities were ninjas, Seattle would have fought Spokane, broke its neck with one swipe, then took it’s mother out on a date that, of course, ended in sex..  I came back Saturday night just in time for my roommates to be drinking.  I joined in and the fun begins again.

After half a huge bottle of wine, I’m doing pretty well.  There are sexually appealing girls dancing in our living room, we got to Karaoke to some 80s butt rock, specifically Bon Jovi and Skid Row, and Goss was doing his usual drunken stomping and shouting for no reason.

The night went awry for a bit when I was assaulted so unpleasantly in the cock and balls with a rolled up wheel deals magazine.  I think I set a record for the least time spent going from karaokeing 80’s to a curled up ball on the floor.  After that I punched Goss 2 times in the face for his insolence.

As per usual, something got wrecked in our house.  This time, it was a wall.  For some reason, Goss thought it would be awesome to run from the bathroom and do a flying shoulder slam into the wall.  All I heard is a “SLAM.”  I turned around to see Goss with an amazed, almost proud look on his face, and his shoulder buried in the drywall, surrounded by a foot and a half diameter hole in said dry wall.  Congratualtions, we have a new window in the hall.  I’ts got a nice view of the other side of the drywall.

So, as you can see, I’m back in Spokane in fine form, getting trashed and breaking things that don’t belong to me.

Unholy SuperBowl Sunday 2/6/2006

No, it’s not unholy because the SeaTurkeys got robbed by the officials, it’s unholy because of the events that took place at our house.

In good football weekend spirit, hundreds of beers were purchased before hand.  We figured we could rectify the atrocities that took place 2 weeks before (see old blog) with one simple purchase – A beer bong.  This was not the case.  By mid second quarter, bare ass drops were in full effect.  By the end of the game, my ass persoanlly hurt from being thrown at so many different people.

For protection against the hundreds of nut taps that had been handed out so far, my roommate came upstairs with a helmet in his pants covering his jones.  In my infinite wisdom, I thought it was a pillow and punched him in it.  Ouch.  It’s a metal helmet, not a pillow.  He removes the helmet and I proceed to hit him in the junk for it.  My other roommate feels like it’s a good idea to put the helmet on, run across the room, and jump head first into the brick fireplace.  Add one dent to the helmet, and one possibly crushed vertebrae to my roommate.  Next, the idea is to put the helmet on and have our other roommate bash him in the head with a chair… 5 times.  Not a great idea, but it amuses us to no end.

After numerous more asses on heads, wrestling matches, shots to the penis, and beers being consumed at high speeds,  one of my roommates decides it’s a great idea to play music and get up on the ottoman to dance like a childrens entertainment star.  This alone is not a great idea, but it becomaes great when my other roommate turns on the ceiling fan… right above the dancing roommate.  I see what is coming and try to yell “You’re going to hit your head!” but all that comes out of my mouth is “HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!”  Sure enough, after many close calls, WHACK, WHACK!  2 ceiling fan blades to the head.  Down goes 1 roommate.  Luckily, he’s not KO’d or concussed in any way.

The last incident I can recall is when my roommate takes his pants completely down, looks at me, then frollics into his room after another roommate.  The other roommate takes kindly to this and throws a chair at him and runs.  In retribution, the roommate replaces his pants and sprints into the living room to jump on the back of the chair thrower.  This would be ok, but that roommate falls face first into the wall, with a huge thump.  We expect blood and screams of pain from this, but all we get is yet another “HAHAHAHA!!!!”  No harm, no foul.

Granted, this night ended in less destruction to the house and no tortilla chip fights, but was just as dangerous to our well being.  Just another night at the house.  I hope you’re sad you missed it.

The Day of the Sabbath 1/23/2006

Yes Sunday.  I committed many offenses to common sense and humility on this day. 

It started with the Seahawks game.  I thought “what a great way to pass the afternoon/evening, watching the game.”  I added to that, a bottle of wine that I had.  All in all, it wasn’t a bad idea.

Next – Seahawks dominating at the half, my bottle of wine is gone.  Not gone like stolen or lost, gone like I drank it all.  I’m feeling pretty good since all I ate was breakfast. 

Next – My roommate and my other roommates brother are now both as drunk as me.  Enter flying naked ass drops to random guests of the house.  When I say flying naked ass drops, I mean like a fucking WWF leap off furniture with your ass out landing as close to someones face as possible.

Next – Shouting.  Not shouting at each other or at people outside, these are phone victims.  Anyone who called got a simultaneous “YES THEY DESERVED TO DIE, AND I HOPE THEY BURN IN HELL!!”  If they called again, same treatment. 

Next – I get a great idea, I’ll call this really attractive girl I know and talk to all the time and try to have a conversation with her.  It ended up that I asked her to be in a gangbang and to touch my raging hard on I had in my pants.  I’m sure other things were said, but I can’t remember those.

Next – I call another girl that we know.  I can’t think of anything to say (as far as I remember) so my roommate takes the phone.  He tells her he wants to take her down and she will make him squirt.  Graphic.

Next – After plenty more ass drops, which result is scotch and soda all over me (did I mention I switched to scotch after the wine?), James and I decide that the best thing to do next is have a tortilla chip fight in the kitchen and then roll around in the remnants.  After that we decide the wicker laundry basket is an enemy and dispose of it in the only way possible – a WWF style elbow drop festival until there are only small pieces left, which we subsequently throw into the yard.

Next – I decide I hate the lamp on our floor and toss it outside, followed by the chairs down the stairs.  We go out and burn the lampshade with a propane torch while I throw firecrackers on the burning flame.  That was the safest thing that happened all night.  When thats done I throw the lamp at a guy and James throws a firecracker at him.  I also did once I saw what happened.  It blew up right next to him.

Next – I finally decide that I should go to sleep, although I have no idea what time it is.  I don’t have a shirt anymore because it was scotch covered and ripped.  Before I retire, I take some magazines and rip the pages out and throw them all over the house.  “Why?” You ask?  Because fuck magazines, and fuck my house.  That’s why.  I then go to my room, turn on loud music and pass out with lights and the rest of my clothes still on, and a bit scotchy.  I woke up at 230AM and removed all my clothing to go to real bed.  I needed some water before I did, so I walked to the kitchen.  I realized the error of my ways when the path was covered in magazines, tortilla chips, and wicker.  Official pass out time – 930PM.

Sorry liver.

Check out pics of the damage -
http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b361/badseedjr/PICT0015.jpg
http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b361/badseedjr/PICT0017.jpg
http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b361/badseedjr/PICT0018.jpg

To My Liver 1/3/2006

Dear Liver,

I apologize for what I have put you through in the last week.  I realize that if I could open my skin and ring you out, that I would be able to get a small country drunk off of the amount of alocohol I have passed through you in the past week.  I can assure you, this did not go unpunished.  Your wrath was felt via the sickness to my stomach and head.  I come to you offering a truce.  I will not attempt to distill an entire barrel of vodka in you anymore if you can stop making me hurt so badly for it.  I feel this is a good truce, and hope you can accept.  In the event you reject, I will reign down on you with the most terrible of terribles… any product made by monarch, or perhaps miller high life.  Don’t make me regret my peace offering.

Signed, Your Keeper.