Quotes Quotes Quotes Quotes Quotes!

More ridiculousness from the perverted minds of the good ol' boys at PHN shrouded in anonymity.



“I’ll bet you this bitch wants to fuck me.”

“My wife better be able to cook, clean…you know, do shit while I’m out getting my work on.”

“I can just imagine how tight she is. Imagine her butthole dude! Her shit must be like noodles.”

“He uses magnums. I don't know if you know anything about that. But that means it’s gonna hurt.”

“So I just heard the story of a girl losing her virginity?”

“I’d rather have her fuck someone in week two. Because then her pussy’s got 5 weeks to clean itself out. ‘That's grimey dude. You’re fuckin gross. I don't have to worry about that because I got the V-Card right in my back pocket.’

“Don't tell her you wanna have sex with her. When you’re dealing with a virgin, you don't tell her you wanna fuck her. Because then you just scare her. You just do it man.”

An Illini Weekend – Part 2 – Saturday

The remainder of my Friday at the University of Illinois’ Unofficial St. Patty’s Day celebration wasn't anything too outrageous. We hopped a couple more parties and ultimately ended up at an apartment where the group of girls I was with knew EVERYBODY. A couple of things to highlight here:

JV got virtually raped on the dance floor with all her clothes on. Watching her dance, I didn't know whether to stop her dance partner, or just keep looking on in awe that sex could possibly be had without ever actually removing any clothing or exposing any type of genitalia.

I almost got into a fight with some black girl because I was “dancing in her space.” She tried to challenge me to an “ass off” – in which we tried to see who could actually push the other farther by only using the force of the rear end. Of course I, with the superior lower body strength, won.

Upon seeing my dancing skills, some gay guy thought it would be a good idea to rub his trunk into my junk. Not happening. I immediately pushed him away as hard as I could and let him know that I preferred the warmth of a good vagina rather than a pulsating penis.

We drank and drank and drank the night away. Overall, I passed out pretty happy.

Most of Saturday was a pretty chill day. We planned on getting homework done at the library, but decided that catching on sleep with a nap was more important.

For the night, we arranged a pregame party at the apartment we were staying at prior to heading out to the bars. People arrived and the drinking began around 9:20pm. Having had quite the number of shots and mixed drinks in such a short amount of time, I was already reaching drunkenness by the time we left at 9:50pm.

We got to Clybourne’s, the local hotspot on campus, around 10pm. The line was ridiculously long. Drunk, we waited here for a good 20-25 minutes. After JV’s freshly pierced nips were exposed in a hilarious photo taken with some random creeper, we decided to head to another bar called Fubar.

“You got in?” “We got right in.” (That’s a Superbad reference for all of you who are not familiar with one of the funniest movies ever made).

We got in and it was time to start drinking heavily once again. As my drunkenness increased, I turned into a dance machine. The pop and lock, the robot, the stanky leg, the moon walk; you name it I had it down. Oh yes, I Soulja Boyed just about everyone and everything in that place. I even attempted to spread my dancing joy to others around me who seemed to not be having as much fun as I was.

I also turned into a dick getting machine for my female companions. I was well aware that these girls needed some Penis in their Vaginas. So I went into search and destroy mode, playing Pussy/PenisMatchMaker like it was nobody’s business.

Now, I liked hanging out with the girls because it provided me with some new perspective on life. But I was longing for my fellow wolves. WhiteRice and the rest of the dudes rolled through shortly after we arrived and after I promised “There’s sooo much pussy here.”

Some random dude liked my “style”, so he asked for a few pointers as he was from out of town. I let him know that for the Chicago-land girls, a guy had to play the sweetheart card. He thanked me for the tip, which I mostly bullshitted, and asked, “You wanna go get some pussy?” Which I thought was quite funny.

I played womanizer for a bit and took pictures with girls like they were giving me head. They got on their knees, I motor boated some boobs, and I licked some body. I was trashed by way of Rum & Coke, a few free drinks from the bartender, and my trusty flask filled with straight Vodka by the end of our time at the bar.

Around 2am we were forced to leave so we headed to a local house party. Being really drunk is amazing because you skip all the boring parts of life, like walking to places and peeing in alleys, and you fast forward right to the next party. We arrived at some condo that looked like an industrial themed techno club complete with lasers and skimpily dressed people. WhiteRice and I felt out of place. As we were returning from the keg, some tool had the nerve to say something smart to me.

This night could turn out to be not so fun after all.

I was already uncomfortable and felt out of place. That whole thing about alcohol intensifying your mood is absolutely 100% true. I began to feel paranoid; like no one was comfortable having us there. The only rational thing for me to do was to pull out the heat I was packing; a 6 inch butterfly knife.

Silly me.

I began to whip it around, as if to taunt anyone who was looking at me. Luckily WhiteRice instructed me to finish my beer.

“I can’t take this anymore man. Lets get the fuck out of here.” I said. --- Quite possibly the smartest thing I did all night.

My mood bettered within minutes of us leaving. We met up with the girls over at the local Pizza Place. Here, I made everyone aware that all the girls I was with “Where my bitches,” and that “This was my pussy.” I scared a straight kid, who complimented JV on her beauty; into telling me he was gay, because I accused him of “Trying to take my pussy.”

My night ended with a delicious Gyro at a spot where the story was the same. I went around and greeted everyone in the restaurant and asked them if they were getting pussy that night.

“Are you getting pussy? Are YOU getting pussy tonight? Will you promise me that you’ll get some pussy tonight? Will you make sure he gets some pussy tonight? Because I’m really concerned about you guys getting some pussy tonight.”

And then I woke up the next morning, fully clothed, contacts in, and with everything in my pockets. I felt unusually happy in the morning. I was still drunk. However it would only take another hour or so for me to feel the awesome hangover.

Thank you UofI, for a wonderful Unofficial weekend.

Quotes from the Board

Here's a new selection of quotes from our quote board. Once again, we've all contributed equally, however the quotes' authors shall remain anonymous. Enjoy!

“Relax dude, pussy’s gonna find its way to you.”

“Is this ice cream? Ewww...it’s my nut.”

“We’re all about equilibrium. But if you’re gonna be racist, nigga the door is right there.”

“Don't tell her you wanna have sex with her. When you’re dealing with a virgin, you don't tell her you wanna fuck her. Because then you just scare her. You just do it man.”

“I’ll bet you this bitch wants to fuck me.”

“My wife better be able to cook, clean…you know, do shit while I’m out getting my work on.”

Murphy's Law

“GET. THIS. BITCH. THE. FUCK. OUTTA. HERE!”
This is the point at which my night changed.

Rewind.

Two weeks or so ago, my roommates and I at PHN volunteered our pad to host an end of the year party for our friends over at “Student Organization XYZ”. XYZ has a tradition each year, in which the main objective of the huge party they throw is to get the freshman as trashed as possible. Initially, we, or at least I, didn't realize this was the premise of the event. Nonetheless, we graciously accepted the concept of free food (for a banquet before), free booze, and a raging party at our place.

The night started off well with our friends for dinner at the banquet. We shot the shit, ate some good food, and scoped out the tail that we’d be able to chase later on, when boundaries would be far from sight.

The party kicked off at about 10:30pm over at PHN. It was mainly the upperclassmen and our friends to show up first. We started with a few swigs of bottles, shots, and burrs. Then, the freshman began to arrive. As soon as they walked in they were handed cups, named and all, which they were not allowed to lose or have empty. Nice.

I think you may know where this night is going.

I figured, “Hey, these kids are gonna be submissive all night. Why not degrade them too?” Already living on a pretty good buzz, I proceeded to chant “FRESHMAN!” as loud as I could, and point at them repeatedly. Because no one likes to be pointed at. Oh, and by the way, the hard alcohol was reserved for the freshman. Beer was to be downed by everyone else.

What an even better idea; drown these weak, inexperienced drinkers in 90 Proof liquor when they barely know how to tread. Poor kids. Oh well, it's a part of growing up.

More and more and more people piled in. Alcohol was flowing, Sausage was taking back-to-back shots of Jose Cuervo (which I strongly advised against), White Rice was losing his mind dealing with all the people, and I was singing every song at the top of my lungs.

Sausage and I thought it would be nice to thank our friends and our guests. So we cleaned off the beer pong table, jumped up, and proceeded to make a speech. This was followed by a dance choreographed earlier that night to Montel Williams’ This Is How We Do It. It was a big hit, we just wished there were enough people to crowd surf.

Then chaos ensued.

The first freshman puked on our couch. I went into asshole mode. I instructed whoever was with her to “Clean that shit up.” I thought that was it. But then, as I should have expected, another and another and another began to blow chunks. I was beginning to lose my mind in a sea of pussy freshman puke. So I did all I could. I turned the music off, got everyone’s attention, and yelled at the top of my lungs.

“YOU FRESHMAN ARE PUSSIES. YOU CAN’T EVEN KEEP UP? COME ON! IF YOU HAVE TO FUCKIN PUKE, TAKE IT TO THE GARBAGE CAN, THE SINK, OR THE BATHROOM!”’

They were too busy puking. Puking on our carpet, in plastic shopping bags (which should have been an item they were handed as they walked in) in our garbage cans, in our sinks, all over our bathrooms, and in our bedrooms; good thing mine was locked.

Even Sausage, who was so excited for this party, who was so excited to cause a complete ruckus, who was excited to degrade dumb broads, and so excited to be remembered for the dumb shit he said, spent his night praying to the white porcelain god that was the toilet. I watched the kid’s seemingly lifeless body fall ground shaking-hard into the bathtub as he attempted to be finished.

This was getting out of hand. So I proceeded to do what I had to; get these youngins out of my place. I went to our friend ATB and informed him that I wanted these kids out. “Who?!” he asked. This was a task too big for names and words, so I began to make my rounds around the apartment pointing them out. “This bitch right here. Home! That one. Home! This one here. Home! That pussy over there. Home!” and so it continued for a good fifteen minutes.

I thought my worries were over once all these vomiting liabilities were out. Boy was I wrong, and boy did this one have it in for her. Please, for all those out there, don't get on my bad side when my BAC is likely close to .20.

I noticed the light in WhiteRice and Cousin’s room was on. “Why is it on?” I asked myself. “No one should be in there; unless of course there are shenanigans going on.” I decided to investigate. Upon entering the room I discovered a thieving girl rummaging through the closets looking for a pair of pants.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing with those?” I inquired.
“I just need these khakis. WhiteRice said it was fine,” she claimed.
“Ok, hold on then. Let me just make sure.”
“No its fine. WhiteRice said it was fine.”

I sensed some attitude issues here. This is the worst thing for me to sense, especially if I’m in my own domain. She repeated to exclaim that taking the pants was fine. Which, if it was fine, I didn't see what the big deal about asking my roommate was. I didn't know if he approved this. I didn't even know if they were his or if they were Cousin’s. She brushed me off and tried to simply push me out of the way and walk past me. Big NO-NO. This is when things began to get loud and my other buddies began to notice something was wrong. All I was trying to do was figure out what was going on with these pants, and this chick thought it would be okay to completely disregard me. It started to get a bit blurry, but I remember that I began to yell my reasoning. A group of my buddies got in between her and I, as if I was actually going to fight this girl. Not a chance. Nevertheless, someone thought it would be appropriate to hold my arms behind my back, which I didn't have a problem with, since I had no violent intentions. Meanwhile, I was yelling obscenities about this girl, because no one seemed to understand what I was so heated about.

This girl was so into herself; she thought it would be OK for this to come out of her mouth.
“Just because you want to fuck me, doesn't mean you have to be a dick head!”

Strike three and you’re out cunt.

“Oh Ffffffuuuccckkkk no…” is what went through my head. “What?!” is what I said. I proceeded to yell at the top of my lungs:

“GET. THIS. BITCH. THE. FUCK. OUTTA. HERE. RIGHT. NOW!” so that everyone in our place could hear. “THIS ONE. RIGHT HERE. RIGHT HERE. GET THE FUCK OUT!” I yelled as I pointed her out for everyone.
My buddies escorted this humiliated broad out of the PHN. Let this be a lesson that this is what happens when you’re a piece of shit at the PHN, you get completely and utterly embarrassed in front of all; in every which way possible.

But, it wasn't over. I’m a big believer in karma. What goes around comes around. And sometimes you gotta suck it up and take it like a champ.

About an hour later, my friend Paahtna was worried she lost her camera. So I, being the nice guy that I am, decided to help her find it in WhiteRice and Cousin’s room. Their beds are separated by a seven-foot tall bookshelf. Cousin’s bed sits on the floor. After about a minute or so of searching the room for her camera, I got too lazy and decided to lie on Cousin’s bed. Mistake. I’m not sure what compelled Paahtna to think that her camera might be underneath the head of Cousin’s bed, near the bookshelf, but she proceeded to lift up the mattress and check anyway. In doing so, she managed to knock the bookshelf right over, square onto my face. I laid there in disbelief for about twenty good seconds before this mammoth was removed.

Like I said, when you’re a dick at the PHN, expect to get embarrassed.

These types of things are to be expected. The universe needs balance, and if no one is there to take initiative to instigate the process of balancing it out, it will go vigilante and balance itself. It comes with the territory and one learns that winning and losing are all a part of this game of life.

The pussy drunks were safely home puking in their own beds, the unwanted bitches were out, and I was comfortably in my bed with an icepack on my face. Our friends cleaned in the morning, and we were left with a bunch of leftover booze, drinks, and food. All in all, it turned out to be a good night; memorable enough to be recalled here for you.

Sexual Conversations – 2nd Installment

In the beginning months of our glorious lives here at the PHN I started to see this girl that went to school in the city. We can skip all stupid little mushy details, because their actually irrelevant and, just well plain stupid. She was one of the nicest girls I have ever met. I know I may be contradicting myself, what with the whole title of this blog and all, but this girl was amazingly beautiful. She had gorgeous long brown hair, an ass that would make your mouth water, and eyes that that tingle the little fuzzies on your scrotum. A real bring home to mom type of girl. She was nice enough to save the world type girl. All around, this chick was a great catch.

Things started off pretty slowly, which I was OK with. We hung out on the regs, and partied together for a couple of weekends in a row. I was taking things easy, slowing down asshole mode, downshifting into NiceGuy gears, and playing it safe and patient.

We got intimate a few times, but nothing too serious…absolutely no sex L

Sad Justin

Well, I must’ve ruined it because one night while were hookin’ up, I let her know sex was what I wanted. I mean, is that too much to ask for after about a month of “seeing” each other? I think not. My buddies kept trying to convince me that she was a virgin. However, I didn’t believe this because she just didn’t seem like one. She just seemed a little too experienced in what she was doing to be a virgin. I don’t know really, maybe she was. Anyway, once that was done and over with I didn’t sweat it too much. You win some you lose some right.

A couple months later, I notice my buddy Sausage trying to make a pass at her. Maybe he was just being really friendly or maybe he was actually trying to finish what I started. I thought it was actually pretty funny. It ain’t no fun if the homies can’t have none right? Either way, I called him out on it. I let him know that as much as he was willing to try, he would probably get nowhere…as I tried pretty hard, and failed. “This girl was smart” – she wouldn’t be giving it up to anybody. Sausage insisted that he would master this challenge. He claimed he could crack this vaginal version of the DaVinci code. He was confident. As much as I admired his optimism however, I warned him.

“Don’t do it man. You’ll just fail. Her vagina's like area 51 dude. No one's gettin in there.”

He never did get in there.

Sexual Conversations – When Are They Not?

In our off time here at the PHN (when not studying or partying), there’s not a whole lot to do but talk to each other about our sexual lives, our sexual experiences, or our sexual goals. Wow, there’s really not much more I can elaborate on that, I pretty much summed up the concept I wanted to explain right there. Fuck me right?

Anyway, one of the many nights that we were just shooting the shit while making dinner, sexual technique was the topic of conversation.

Most sources say that when men are not in some sort of relationship, or when they really have no emotional connection to their sexual partner, they really don’t put much effort into the sex. Sex isn’t really isn’t much of a pleasure for these types of men; it’s more like a necessary activity to fulfill the physiological or love needs of Maslow’s hierarchy. Many times this can be true. We’ve all been there guys, you’ve just done it to do it…just because you could right? Right. But even then, as selfish as I can be, I am still looking out for the poor soul underneath me. The way I look at it is that as much as I am in it for myself, this girl still needs to feel amazing in order for her to tell me I’m amazing, so I can go on with the rest of my night knowing I’m some sort of Maverick. (My use of the term "Maverick" in no way condones support for Sarah Palin's dumbass or the Republican Party. I am merely referring to the 80s movie "Top Gun" in which Maverick was a badass.)

Perfectly logical right? You’re welcome.

Anyway, as I explained this concept to WhiteRice, he didn’t seem to be getting it. I usually like to do something different, or take my time to ensure one hell of a ride. I explained the reach-around technique to WhiteRice.

• The Reach-Around: While engaging in sexual intercourse in the “doggy style” position (or standing variations of the position) the male reaches around, with his strong hand, to stimulate the outer workings of the female genitalia. This is done while simultaneously entering and exiting the vagina. If done correctly, you are the man.

So I further explained myself to WhiteRice, detailing how “apparently” (in my experience) this can be a really useful move.

“Bitches love it” I said. “You just reach around, rub away, and BOOM!”

WhiteRice wasn’t really into the concept of actually pleasing his partner, and claimed he was only in for himself.

“Fuck that dude. I’m just tryin’ to get my nut. That bitch is gonna like no matter what,” he exclaimed.

“Trust me man, try it,” I said.

To which he replied “I don’t rub clit, I fuck pussy!”

Noteworthy Text Messages

This is a collection of random texts, that I have sent and received, which I felt would be necessary to share with the world. Enjoy.

Here’s the cast for this assortment:

• SanDiego – girl I’ve been hanging out with on the regs*
• Sausage – roommate
• WhiteRice – roommate
  
  
• *Regs: Adjective – Short for regular – usual; normal; customary; rhythmical. Describes something on a consistent basis when used in the above context. EX: We’re chillin’ on the regs dude.

Me: Nice you definitely coulda stayed in bed all day

SanDiego: Yeah and boned like 50 more times

Me: Haha you have no idea how sore I am. I think I need a week off.

SanDiego: Your penis or your body?

Me: My penis. When do I get to see you again?

SanDiego: When your penis is healed.

Me: Nice.

***

SanDiego: Bad news: Just got my period. Good News: Not preggers.

(phew)

***

SanDiego: I’d like to let you know that I’m under my covers with nothing but my red lace panties.

Me: That’s goin up on the blog I hope you know.

SanDiego: I am honored.

***

SanDiego: My room is a mess. Like my life. Maybe I just need sex.

Me: I think you just need a good dickin down. From me.

SanDiego: I just need to clean my room, a shower, and a good P in my V.

Me: You could use a good pee in vagee. I mean, I could give you that, if you really need it…

SanDiego: I mean, if you help me out I would consider you a true friend.

***

SanDiego: All I want is for you to ejaculate in my brain. I win.

***

Sausage: I hate you so much right now. Like even my dick is angry.

***

Me: Ey, pick up a nerf gun on your way back from CVS.

Sausage: What? Are you serious?

***

(On a night when SanDiego was over, giving me a heads up as to when he was coming home.)

Sausage: Yo, I’m comin back to PHN soon so ya betta finish yo shit.

(While doing the dirty)

Me: Gimme like 20 more min

Sausage: OK

(20 minutes later)

Me: Hey I just came. You can come home now.

***

WhiteRice: There’s a fine ass Asian girl in my class right now. Like suuppppperrrrrrrr fineeeeeeeeee.

Me: Dick her dude.

***

WhiteRice: You know what pisses me off? Fat bitches who kiss the professor’s ass. Stupid cunts.

***

WhiteRice: Did you know that Sausage fucked that girl with a MAGNUM?! HAHAHAHAHAHA

Me: That’s why he’d be a good porn star dude.

***

WhiteRice: I hate dudes that look and talk like faggots and play it off like they don’t know they’re gay.

More later. Hope you enjoyed. I have a pretty interesting mobile life huh?

An Illini Weekend – Part 1 – Friday

A couple of weeks ago some friends of mine and I ventured out to the University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign to celebrate the unofficial St. Patrick’s day holiday. For those that are unfamiliar with the origin of this “holiday,” it began back in 1996 when bar owner Scott Cochrane decided that he needed to increase business because the academic Spring Break usually includes St. Patty’s day. This leads students to celebrate away from campus. In short, it’s an all day drinking event for college students that visit from hundreds of miles away. Drinking can start as early as 7am; maybe even earlier.

Was I excited? Of course! This would be my first time.

I went with a female friend of mine, and was staying in her friend’s apartment which was filled with yet more females. Now, girls are cool; I like them and everything but sometimes a group of them can really strain your testicular fortitude. In most cases this holds true, but this pack of foxes was different. They actually had just as much balls as any regular guy. AND they where good looking. Very cool. We’ll explore this concept later.

So Friday we started with a quick breakfast at 9:30am and then headed out to the first party at 10:00am. We arrived at an apartment packed with about 50-60 people. There were simultaneous games of Beer Pong going on, bingers left and right, and ice cold BURR for days.

Beautiful.

Nothing really too out of the ordinary, except for the fact that for the first time in my young life I was getting drunk before Maury came on WGN. By 11:15am I was living on a good buzz from about 6 drinks. We decided to leave for one reason or another around 11:30am; probably to head to another party.

We stopped back at base camp briefly to gather a few things and soon we were back on Green St. (the main strip for all things drunk at UofI). While walking, our group consisting of myself; AsianGuy (some random Asian guy); JV; NeedsDick (this girl was in need of a serious pounding); and Deezy, passed a tattoo shop. Upon this discovery, JV decided that she wanted to get her nipples pierced. Umm…OK?

So in we went to the shop. As we entered, some random drunk guy yelled, “Yeah! Get a tattoo! Woooooh! Change your life!” Now, I wasn’t expecting to watch this girl's milk makers actually get penetrated by this massive needle, but in reality, you go into these types of things not really expecting a lot of things; they’re kind of just thrust upon you. And you’re just supposed to make of them what you will. So as the curtain stayed as spread open as your cheating ex-girlfriend’s legs, I watched in complete awe as good ol’ righty and lefty took the piercing like champs.

It was nearing 2:00pm and we needed to rest up for later. This was a good morning of firsts so far, so we headed back to headquarters to nap in order to be in 100% binge drinking condition for the 2^nd half of the day to come.

To be continued…

The Nicest Thing I’ve Ever Done For Anyone. You’re Welcome Ya Dumb Bitch.

Ok now here’s a little change of pace - a little something different in the course of action in this game I call life. Some of my stories may make you think that I’m just a raging dick head only in it for the best interest of…myself. For the most part, reader, you’re right - so gold star for you. However, there was a time when I was all about being Mr. Nice Guy. But, that was before I woke up and smelled the coffee. Some of those Nice Guy values have carried over into this new existence I’ve created for myself. And when these qualities show, those lucky enough to experience Mr. Nice guy Justin are truly fortunate.

New Years Eve 2009 Sausage, our friend Peter, my buddy Jen, and I all decided to head up North to Milwaukee, WI to celebrate at Marquette University. I’m not sure about the rest of you, but Milwaukee just freaks me out because it’s like a smaller, creepier version of Chicago. I just get weirded out every time I head out there.

Anyway, we arrive at the party house which was an old Chicago-style Row house; very narrow and tall with about three floors and a basement. The place was great. There were a few hot girls here and there, some guys were jammin’ as a band (which was better than crappy club music that stupid young girls seem to always select), and there was a keg. We play a few games of beer pong and are beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol flowing. Then around 11:20, we realize that we don’t have any cigars to celebrate the evening. We decide that we need some. But it’s 11:20! We don’t know where we are or what time we’ll get back. We don’t want to miss midnight!

So we act quickly. We leave the party out of the back door and begin a dead sprint to the convenient store, which is down two long alleys, and a right turn up another 4 blocks or so. It’s a pretty long sprint and keep in mind we’re beginning to feel drunk. Something about being drunk makes it feel like you’re running as fast as you ever have. Am I right? I feel like I’ve done this too many times. At the convenient store we spot a pizza that a lady in line had put down while she pays. I consider stealing this and running, since I’m so fast and can get away with it, but Sausage convinces me otherwise. We sprint back and arrive at about 11:32. Twelve minutes; stupid us.

We drink and drink and drink, and spray people with Champagne at midnight. We smoke cigars and just get more and more trashed as the night goes on. Then, at about 2am Jen, Sausage and I decide we’re hungry. We have no clue where Peter is.

BOOM. There was a Jimmy John’s by that convenient store! So we venture out again; this time walking and taking our time. As we turn the corner into the alley, Sausage begins to take a piss on a building, and Jen and I notice a stumbling beauty attempting to make her way through the alley towards us. She can barely walk and seems like she is looking through everything at nothing. She’s plastered.

As she gets closer we yell at her asking her if she’s alright. As she stumbles toward me, I grab her to make sure she doesn’t fall. Jen helps out too. Sausage was still pissing. We ask her where she’s going, why she’s by herself, and where she lives. Apparently her friends ditched her, she couldn’t remember anyone’s phone number, and didn’t even have her own phone. We consider taking her to the party house and throwing her on the floor, but then realize that’s probably a bad idea because even we really don’t know anyone there. She wasn’t too gung ho about this idea either. She’s still struggling to stand so we keep a good hold of her.

Rather than taking her to the party house, we decide to walk with her and try to figure out where she’s going. Sausage just wants to ditch her. “It’s not our problem,” he says. Funny…but whatever. We continue walking her, trying to figure what this girl’s deal is. Apparently her house is yellow. The three of us look at each other after hearing this description and lip sync “WHAT THE FUCK?” Luckily for us she lives at the end of the alley and around the corner. As we turn the corner, she points to a big tall house, similar to the party house. Well gag me with a spoon…what do you know? The damn house is yellow!

We ask her if she’s sure this is it. One yes is good enough for us so we help her up the stairs. What happens next is pretty funny. Once atop the stairs, I open the front door, which was unlocked, say “Great, now you’re home!” shove her stupid drunk ass inside and close the door behind her.

“There! Now let’s get the FUCK out of here,” I say to Sausage and Jen. Sausage is finally relieved we can get to Jimmy John’s, Jen can’t believe that just happened, and I just feel all warm, fuzzy and weird inside.

I couldn’t end the night without being an asshole to someone though. So, on the way back from Jimmy John’s we catch some fat chicks trying really hard to traverse the snow in their heels. I yell obscene things at them, and then the bigger one falls. “OOOHHHH!!!” I yell, “She’s down! Get up! Get up!” Jen can’t stop laughing. Then I proceed to actually count until she stands up, as if she’s a downed boxer. I stand there across the way and count all ten long seconds watching her struggle to pull her weight up. We applaud and yell in celebration for her when she finally harnesses the lower body strength to stand herself upright.

Stupid fat chicks.

Please, don’t forget that I helped that hottie home.

The Devil in a Clear Glass Bottle

Everyone has that one thing. That one thing has the power to really turn your life around and throw it into a direction you don’t want it go. Whatever it may be, we all have one. Even more so, everyone has that kryptonite when it comes to drinking. Some can’t handle dark, whiskey-type liquors “because anything dark can’t possibly be good for your stomach,” for others its beer because it’s so filling, and still others can’t handle the idea of Gin, because, well, it’s gross. Now, I’m nowhere near old enough to say that I have tried a variety of different alcohols and liquors, but at my tender age of 20, I’m 100% sure that I know my kryptonite.

I was 16 and it was a Friday night. This Friday night was going to be different than all of my previous Friday nights; tonight I was going to get drunk for the first time…REALLY drunk. It started off not looking so hot.

RawDawg’s parents weren’t home; they were having a night out and would be home pretty late. I was stuck at home with family and without a car; very few of my friends had a car. RawDawg, myself, and our other friend Taco were looking to set up some sort of get together at RawDawg’s. After being resourceful and hitching a ride with a friend to get out of my house, I met up at RawDawg’s where Taco exhibited his resourcefulness; a 1.75 liter handle of Bacardi Limon. This was like gold at that age.

It was just the three of us at that point, along with RawDawg’s younger brother, whom we commanded responsibility of babysitter. We started drinking; rapidly. I knew nothing about controlling or pacing myself, plus, it tasted like water. We started off with a few card games. Shots were taken at the end.

About 30 minutes later, I was feeling pretty tipsy. I liked this feeling I had never felt before. I was so happy and having a great time. Little did I know of my misfortune to come in my very near future.

A couple of friends started to show up. The most memorable was DB. DB was the girl everyone wanted but no one could have; super cute, super funny, and super cool. I was impaired so I thought I should flirt with her a little bit. Not such a good idea. Apparently I was creep and I got a door slammed on my hand. Good thing I was numb and couldn’t feel it. Luckily she was nice, and understood I was drunk, so it was no biggie at school the following Monday.

Anyway, I felt like I could just keep on drinking and drinking. So I thought to myself “Fuck the shot glasses” and began to just chug straight from the bottle. It was so smooth and so Lemony! So delicious! I became a leader by example; RawDawg and Taco were also chugging straight from the handle. It was all us baby; just us and the Bacardi.

The rest of the night gets really hazy, as I was on the verge of blacking out.

The guests left, since they weren’t really getting drunk. Who cared anyway, RawDawg, Taco, and I were having a blast.

• Taco fell down the extremely long stair case at least five times.
• I slammed my head into a couple of different walls.
• We were obviously on a downward spiral. RawDawg decided to make himself vomit to “sober up.”
• Somehow I ended up in RawDawg’s bedroom with Taco. Taco passed out on the bed, where he proceeded to puke all over RawDawg’s sheets.
• I thought I was passing out on the floor. That was before I turned over and puked the beef my mom had cooked earlier right into his carpet. Physically exhausted, I dropped my forehead right into it.
• RawDawg was obviously pissed. I got a few good punches in the stomach. Apparently, me telling him that he was actually hurting me didn’t stop him. Oh well…
• He pulled me up and directed me to the bathroom. All three of us rendezvoused in there.
• Taco was puking guts in the toilet. RawDawg was vomiting in sink #1. I was blowing chunks in sink #2. I wish someone took a picture of this.
• Eventually the messes got cleaned up, with the help of RawDawg’s little brother, before the parents got home.

We awoke the next morning with the worst hangovers ever. That was certainly the worst I have ever had. Taco was naked in bed. I was on the floor. Who knows where RawDawg slept?

To this day, I haven’t touched that dirty bitch known as Bacardi Limon. I can’t think of her without gagging. I know RawDawg and Taco feel the same way. She fucked us over. She scarred us for life. But I mean, rightfully so. We three amigos collectively ran a train on her. We gang raped her; and she pretty much cut our dicks off and let us knew that if they ever grew back, she’d do it again.

I have been pretty drunk in the 5 or so years of experience I have under my belt. No matter how smashed and plastered I’ve ever been, no matter how much I’ve puked, nothing has been as bad as that night. Bacardi Limon is my kryptonite.

I will never drink it ever again in my life.

The Health Risks of Binge Drinking

“What…the…FUCK?”

This is exactly what I said to myself when I awoke one morning from an eventful night of drinking. To put a twist on this, and to keep things interesting, I’m going to attempt to Quentin Taratino this story for all of you out there in cyberspace.

That nasty little bugger up there is called a Uvula, for all of those who don’t know. And when you combine certain things in certain orders, this is what happens. It’s very uncomfortable.

Anyway, it was a promising Sunday morning at about 10:00am. I awoke on the couch in my apartment, ahem, Penthouse, hung over and wondering what exactly happened. I had a pounding headache; my limbs felt like jell-o, my throat was extremely scratchy, and something was restricting my breathing. I had no clue what was going on. I tried to clear my throat, but all I felt was pain. I exhaled, and felt something flap down and lay flat on my tongue.

“Oh shit. What’s wrong?” was my next thought.

Rewind to Saturday night and let’s recount a few events.

Our night started at about 9:00pm at a friend of mine and WhiteRice’s place. Our friend A was going to be having a small shindig; a few friends, some new people, and booze. WhiteRice and I got there early and began drinking. We started playing a few games of beer pong. At this point, it was only me, WhiteRice, A, and his girlfriend.

Now, I don’t usually play beer pong because, well, for one I’m somewhat of an obsessive compulsive about germs, and two, because I don’t like to fuck around; I’m just in it to get trashed, have a good time, say stupid things, and degrade people if they get in my way.

I figured since it was just me and WhiteRice drinking out of these cups, it was OK. After a few games, I was loosened up. This is when people began to arrive. There were a bunch of girls; they didn’t faze me though. Tonight, I was all about getting shwasted. As more booze was flowing through me, I began to get careless about the cups. We rotated games with other pairs of partners, and in the off time WhiteRice and I mingled with the newbies.

• We ripped on a girl who had never had a sip of beer in her life. I mean, come on. How do you come to college (She was a freshy) without ever having tasted ice cold burr? We said she was lame, weak, and didn’t know what life was like because of her inexperience.

• We picked on a little weak one (literally…I could have snapped her in half over my thigh. And I’m no Arnold Schwarzenegger) who was from god knows what country. We thought that country was wiped off the map anyway. And then WhiteRice and I convinced her we didn’t know each other, as if this was some sort of way to get her back to our place.

• Some really stupid girl was wearing really stupid jeans. Completely hole-y, barely any material, bleached….just stupid all around. I feel sorry for her because we really tore her apart for those.

I’m sure all of you know that when you get drunk, you get the drunk munchies. So we were munchin’ on pretzel sticks; high in sodium. This is in between rotations of games of beer pong, where I seemed to forget all about the fact that about 10 or 15 other people were drinking out of the very same cups I was. It was stupid, but hey I was drunk and forgot. This went on till about 3:30am, when we decided to leave. At this point my roommate and I were pretty wrecked.

The entire time at A’s, I was craving a frozen pizza I had just bought which was waiting for me in the freezer. WhiteRice agreed to share it with me. As soon as we walked into our place, we turned on the oven to get our meal prepared.

Within a minute, I was passed out on the couch. Luckily, WhiteRice noticed and shut the oven off. Phew.

Morning came; I felt what seemed to be a baby’s arm in my throat. It was 10:00am and I was groggy, feeling like shit, fully clothed, and my eyes were blurry and almost dried shut from my contacts. I felt something slimy, swollen, and fat resting flat on the back of my tongue. I could barely breathe. When I exhaled, my Uvula slowly and heavily swung forward.

I got up to assess the damage in the bathroom. And thar she blew; my Uvula. If my Uvula was a girl, right now she'd be a Type 1 fatty (see post entitled "Time Really Changes People...and I'm Not Only Talking About Mentally and Emotionally" for description).

So why did this happen?

Well kids, this is where I teach you something…finally.

My swollen Uvula wasn’t a disease or sickness. This sort of thing results from a combination of things. The countless fluid ounces of Busch Light, Keystone, and Miller Lite, really dehydrated me. Coupled with the high sodium amounts in the pretzels we were eating, my body was as dried up as your fat ex-girlfriend’s hoohah. Additionally, I passed out flat on my back with my mouth open (I know because that’s how I awoke in the morning) breathing in the dry air like a dumbass. I seriously wish someone took a picture of this. Each of these factors along with the passing of germs and bacteria from the cups in beer pong contributed to my unfortunate morning.

So what’s the lesson here? Use your own personal cup when playing beer pong. And don’t be a dumbass and pass out on your back.

Time really changes people...and I’m not only talking about mentally and emotionally.

Back in high school my best friends and I had our list of hottest girls that we would never get with. Of course, many times we’d argue about the rankings and who was truly number one. Sometimes it was that chick with the uber fat booty; you know who you are. Other days it was the really quiet underrated girl that no one thought to even rank. We’d pick out the stereotypical hot cheerleaders and dance girls, or the just that group of girls who were known for their proficiency in Party 101. A large percentage of our ranks were populated by girls of lower classes, because well, we had seen so much of the girls our age and we really just got bored. I know; that’s pretty dickey.

Anyway, there was this one girl. Unsurprisingly, she was two years younger than us. We’ll just call her Karissa for now. My buddy RawDawg (He came up with that name for himself. I don’t think I need to go into any explanation of what it means. Let’s just say it suits him really well) and I had our eyes on her throughout all of her glorious development. She wasn’t anything spectacular her freshman year, but by her junior year she was absolutely gorgeous; long and lean legs, perfectly bronzed skin, a juicy rump, I have to say really full and perky D cups, and an exceptionally cute face. Day in and day out, during our routine conversations of all the hottest girls we could never have because “they were too stuck up”, we fantasized about her.

Nonetheless, time went by and time went by. I think we all know what time physically does to people right? Well, we graduated, went off to school and she did the same. Luckily facebook, being the amazing social networking tool that it is, kept us posted on the changes her body was going through. Basically, she got fat. I know it’s terrible of me to dwell on this topic again, but whatever man. Anyway, she was a different type of fat. There are two types of fat in this world:

1) Sloppy, downright unattractive, and smelly fat. You would never want to get with this type of fat because, well, it’s just not socially acceptable and your friends would just really make fun of you. Unless of course you’re into that type of thing.

2) Overly voluptuous-uber thicky thick-border line too fat- still really pretty in the face-you can see evidence of a dime piece somewhere underneath the 50 or 60 lbs of unnecessary baggage-fat. This type of fat is more socially acceptable among your friends for one reason or another.

Karissa had become a #2. She was pushing her luck though. Had she gained about 5 more pounds she would’ve eaten herself right into the #1 spot. Anyway, RawDawg and I were speaking over the phone, as we hadn’t chatted in a while due to his arrangements with school.

First we caught up on each others’ lives. “How’s school, work, girls, etc.” Eventually we got to what we were really good at doing; judging girls and rating them based on physical attractiveness. As usual, this was done using facebook, because of its photographic cataloging qualities. We came across Karissa. And upon taking note of her drastic physical transformation, we identified where she stood in our ranks. It was at this moment that her level of beauty really became questionable.

RawDawg: “I really wanna bang Karissa”

Me: “Like now? Or 40 pounds ago?”

RawDawg: “Well, I’d still do her now.”

Me: “I dunno man. I really don’t know. “

Do You Kiss Your Mother With That Mouth?

Our quote board is home to many of our greatest pieces of dialogue. Like I said, we have very dirty mouths. I’m just going to let the more controversial ones speak for themselves. Here’s a couple for now. We've all contributed equally, however the authors of each will remain anonymous. Enjoy.

“If I wanted to, I could get a boner right now.”

“I got 2 hours of sleep. Woke up. Went to work for 8.5 hours. And then came back. No shit I’m tired. And on top of that I FUCKED!”

“What do you mean? Like she masturbated on you? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? She masturbated on you?”

“She sucks at giving head. She’s terrible. I might as well jack myself off.”

Your Girlfriend Got FAT Dude!

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Prologue

For the first two years of my college career, my living situation didn’t exactly permit an eventful social life. I mean, I am more than grateful for my sister and brother-in-law for housing me in their downtown condo for my freshman year of college. But heading home every weekend to work and cater to a significant other hindered my possibilities for excitement. My sophomore year was even harder on me. My school schedule was clustered in the middle of week, which meant I only had to be on campus three days. The other four days, I was commuting home and working. Finally, my junior year of college in the great city of Chicago is when the debauchery started.

I moved into a swanky penthouse on the north side of the city, on Loyola University’s campus, with a buddy of mine from high school, and two buddies of his. Now, all of this prologue isn’t to say that my life within my friends wasn’t comical, outrageous, or entertaining. Moving out of the nest to be with 3 other 20 year old dudes with raging hormones and a never ending motivation to look for booze, girls, and trouble just really….REALLY upped the ante.

My friends and I like to have fun. And we like to put ourselves in situations where the next day we think to ourselves “What. The. FUCK. Just. Happened?” On top of this, we are truly assholes. We make fun of just about everybody and we think are greater than anybody who crosses our paths (99% of the time we are. But I mean, hey, confidence is a virtue right?) We have the dirtiest minds, and even dirtier mouths.

I decided I would like share the hilarity of the dialogue I share with my roommates, our friends, and our acquaintances through actual spoken word (we have a quote board where we save our most controversial phrases), text messages, facebook wall posts/comments, and any other way we might communicate.

To kick this off the right way; here’s a quick back-story to the title of this blog. This has been long so I’ll make it short.

One boring evening, while creeping through some hot girls on facebook, my roommate WhiteRice was showing Sausage pictures of a particular girl. WhiteRice claimed that this particular girl wasn’t exactly photogenic, and she was better in real life. Sausage wasn’t buying it. In an effort to redeem his rating, WhiteRice explained that this girl was "nice."

Sausage replied “Nice usually means ugly”