To Hell and Back

I guess I'll start slow by providing some insightful experiences, and then moving own to my creative posts. To begin, I don't think the Leveraged Sellout's SB experience even rivals the personal hell I just got over. Lets recap.

Days 1-3:
I am at school...alone...in my apartment. Let me emphasis...Alone...not all the porn in the world could keep me entertained I listened to my Red Hot Chili Peppers DVDs at close to full volume. I did go out to the lifeless bars only to play pool with some townies who deem it necessary to bring their own cues, and had my drinks bought by a very wasted Purdue basketball player who happened to be the Subway Sub of the game, only to air ball his only shot. I also did the quarter bottle thing with a former fraternity brother, the grundle, who got so wasted so quickly I was left to finish two cases with an Asian chick who I would find later was married. I also took it upon myself to work on my fitness. The only people in the gym on SB are Asian or Indian. Why do these people take it upon themselves to make strangest noises when working out, I could barely concentrate as I admired my rock hard abs in all the open mirror space. I also noticed on multiple occasions that other people in the gym are using the equipment COMPLETELY WRONG. I have never done lat pull downs by putting on no weight on and pulling down at a rate of 10 reps a second while doing pregnancy breathing exercises.

Day 4:
Okay, enough is enough. So I drive to my sister’s place in Valpo. The only hi-light being my desperate attempt to get wasted at the local pub with another fraternity bro, who father is a rather important political figure in the region. Here I failed to follow the wise advise of B.J. Novak and ordered a $17 beer. That's right, not 9, 17 f*cking dollars. Granted it was a unique taste, it was not worth it; so I promptly order 2 $2 long islands and downed them to compensate for my lack of judgment.

Day 5:
I have given up, and am driving home. I go with a friend to the local bar the first night. I can count using my dick and testicles the number of people in the bar. I don't remember much else from this night because I got wasted. So wasted in fact that once I got home I began to use the pinball technique to guide myself to my room. *NOTE* this is not an effective maneuver and should not be attempted in full darkness. I should mention at this point that my room is located right next to an open stairwell that leads directly to my basement. So as I go to "bounce" of the nonexistent wall right before entering my room I realize for a spit second of my mistake and brace for impact. Nothing that transpired in the next few seconds in is anyway graceful...in fact I remember that my feet were at one point above my head. As I begin to settle in for sleep at the bottom of my stairs realizing that I had left one of my shoes and my dignity at the top of the stairs I am awoken by another noise. The bad part about drinking at home is that you have to deal with the "roommates" or parents. I don't remember exactly what my mother’s words were, only that the volume was too high considering it was 3 in the morning. If had to summarize...her point was along the lines of how could I have consumed enough alcohol to fall down the f*ckin stairs. Of course I am caught off guard, but react quickly by assuming this would make a great time to have a heart to heart conversation with my mother. After she puts me to bed on the basement couch, apparently she did not think I was fit to go up the stairs, I promptly pass out.

Day 6
Injuries were kept to a few rug burns and hurt pride. My "roommate" explains that she has taken the day off work and that we are going out for coffee. This is not good. I won't give details, except that I am a proud owner a brochure on Counseling & psychological services offered by my school. There are worse things than having a mother that thinks you’re an alcoholic, but I couldn't think of any at the time. To prove her wrong I promptly accept an invitation to kill a case of Old English 800 40oz from a friend. At one point we were are playing to world famous game of "Who can finish a 40oz faster." I of course won this, as there is not substitute for experience. At this point the bars sound like a great idea. Again, the number of people at this bar would only fill the dance floor at Brothers. This does not stop me from getting shit faced and making out with a chick I used to teach tennis to for 15 min. in the front of the bar. Kudos for her, since I am in the middle of growing out a beard. I decide going home at this point is not the best Idea so I sleep at my brohan's place.

Day 7 (St. Patrick’s Day)
Never come home hung-over and unshowered when your family is having friends over for lunch, it does look great on your character. I made up for this by showing and coming out only in a towel to make the introductions and conversations. I proceed to sleep for the ENTIRE day. This is not an exaggeration, I got up when my friend called to say he was going to the liquor store...right on time I thought. I get a sixer (taking it easy) of some Irish Brew and kill it while watching the IU game. The sad part about that game is not that IU only had 15 points at the half; it was that they were still in the game. Nice loss guys. The bar is next, hoping that the holiday will bring more people. The place is packed, and I am dressed rather festively for the holiday. I first finish some beer that I brought with me, and then proceed to do the double vodka tonic route. There is a live reggae band playing...b/c nothing says St. Patty's day like reggae...right? I proceed to have one of the craziest night in my life...how do I know? Because I was on the dace floor for a good portion of the night, and the New Jersey fist pump was my go to move, Thanks Dan. I ask around 4 separate ladies to marry me, to which they all said yes, so it was safe to say that everyone was in a similar state of mind. Although the night was unfruitful in terms of the ladies, I did have a good time telling everyone I saw from high school that I had just accepted that Derivatives Trading position with Goldman Sachs, which I would follow up by asking how the Verizon Kiosk job at the mall was going. Their reactions were priceless.


Day 8
I slept late and took my time packing. This was a time of reflection and wondering what I was going to tell people in classes when they all ask the same cliché question: How was your spring break? I think I'll tell them I was in a strange coma in the hospital, only to wake up in time for school to start. I think I smoked an entire back of cigarettes on the way back to school.