Laughing In Ones Face .

Friday night, Watson, Mcgee, Erin and myself made our way back from our respective corners of South Carolina. Erin had decided to come into town to see a friend who was leaving and so we decided to celebrate with yet another evening on the town.

We head out to Clubhouse with Julien, Nuts, Shannon, and the rest of us ready to drink yet again. After a long hard week at a new job I have grown weary and have tired easliy through the night, nonetheless I have managed to dehydrate my liver causing intoxication. Watson hounds me for the next 30 minutes about going to five points and that I am a bitch for wanting to get a good nights sleep in my own bed in over two weeks. After a couple more motivational words from Watson's mouth I am entering Locals to the delight suprise of seeing Simons.

I make my way to the bar and find G, get a beer, and Watson heads to the lavatory. Returning from his potty break a familiar young lady is riding his coat tail.

Side note: Jordan Lutz was younger member of the fraternity who
dated a DZ. He left her heart broken and teary eyed. Only to her
surprise Marc Lynn would come to her rescue a few years later
during the duration of the tailgate season. Some of you may recognize
her if you saw her.

As watson closes in McSleepy, fraternity rat, comes up to me and the following conversation takes place.

McSleepy: Help me.

Pun: Help you what?

McSleepy: Help me.

Pun: (A slight agitation has formed in my voice) Help you WHAT!

McSleepy: I am Marc Lynn's girlfriend.

Pun: What!?!?

McSleepy: I am Marc Lynn's girlfriend!

Pun: (Laughs out loud in her face as the tears well up on the bottom of her eyelids).
Watson this girl says she is Marc Lynn's girlfriend. (Continues Laughing).

Watson: (Laughs out loud).

McSleepy: (Bolts for the door as the tears stream down her face).

I finally feel asleep around 4 in the am. Fucking Watson, I'm still tired.

So, this blog will end with a request, or question if you will.

Marc Lynn how many girls are you fucking/dating/telling them you love them???

New Years

Words cannot explain in accurate detail the happenings on New Years night. I cannot start with the evening’s proceedings without incorporating the day in its entirety.

Once again Herreee we gooo…

The rustling of drunk people awake me from my drunk stupor that we will call sleep for the sake of relevance. Several times I remember screaming profanities as my head pounded and the only cure I knew at the time was unconsciousness. My efforts to sleep were subdued by the laughter, grunts, and the stench that I had made the night before in the trash can resting inches from my face. We rehashed New Years Eve Eve, and pieced together the night for our memories and the blog. (Why is the word blog not recognized by spell check yet?)

Paq, Dixon, and I began our Neanderthal search for food, wondering around Rock Hill like prehistoric cavemen, “Stop here, I smell beef!” We order 5 Sausage, egg, and cheese crosanwhiches, and end up with 5 sausage crosanwhiches, 3 orders of hashbrowns and two diet cokes. Apparently, in Rock Hill, you have to screw up 275 drive through orders to be demoted to trash disposal duty. I believe the person who waited on us was at a cool 215 fuck ups, because 3 cars besides ourselves were pulled over waiting on their food.

We ate, we shit, we watched Office Space, and some slept. Wait a minute; I should say attempted to sleep. If you are ever unfortunate enough, as I was this fateful day, to be in the same vicinity as Chris Anderson and Karen Zakawontshutthefuckup you will be unable to sleep through a hangover or do anything in peace. These two are quite possibly the loudest people I have ever met in my entire life. Why can’t you just shut the fuck up?

In an effort to rid ourselves from the madness, Paq, Lynn, Mcgee, Erin and myself made a valiant effort to make a clean break away for the hotel room, for some R&R and to reserve a sleeping spot for the night. Oh the things you will do for a pillow and a lumpy cum stained mattress. UGH! (Now that I think about it???)

Verdict: Effort thwarted, the crew had amassed only calling us assholes for leaving, cant we just sleep for five minutes.

Everyone began to dress for the night as we were to head to the local bar and restaurant for dinner and drinks. I was extremely surprised that our group was on time and just so happened to look quite fantastic if I do say so myself.

We played pool, drank, and allowed the other extension of our crew to assemble at the bar. Crew extension included: Marc Watson, Nicole, Viren, Nisha, and Daniel Plyler. Dinner and drinks went of without much of a hitch. Some of us were upset that on New Years Eve the restaurant could not sit 18 people together at one time at 8:00. Nuts, Mcgee, nor I were surprised. It does make sense.

We made our way over to Dixie’s and lined up for entry to the bar, as we had purchased tickets in advance, I feel sorry for the poor bastards that waited in line just to get in the damn bar. Earlier in the night we tried to get our group together for pictures but the scenery was not right, our excuse now was the fact that a few feet away was over priced alcohol and some of us couldn’t stay away.

We entered the bar and ordered the first round and absorbed the atmosphere of hot women, good music, and alcohol. All key ingredients for the night. After one drink all the pent up excitement I had held onto for the few weeks prior rushed through my veins along with the alcohol. Someone called me for my first tequila shot and I looked at the shot glass and called it a pussy. It looked extremely small, maybe a couple of ounces. I wasn’t used to the free pour system every where else in the country and while taking the shot had to gasp for air. The tequila went down smooth and harmless, actually it was quite tasty and only increased my HBPM. I was thoroughly excited. We sang to every song that we half way knew and continued to drink. I had begun to dance a little and was loosening up for the show on the main stage.

As I spun around and wiggled in place a big girl walked past or should I said was squeezing through. I stepped back and uttered the words “Hey baby, how you doing tonight?” She looked at me as if no male counterpart had ever spoken to her before, and a glazed look came over her eyes as if she was starring down the krispy kreme doughnut assembly line as the hot and fresh light burned through the foggy glass window. I walked away from the sitiation, afraid for my life.

Earlier in the night we were scarred or unconcerned about picture taking. For the rest of the night the area of the bar we occupied resemebled the red carpet in Hollywood. Everyone was jumping into a picture or snapping one off for the sake of taking up memory. If no one has coined it let me coin it right here in this blog because I do believe that my group of friends are Drunk snapshotters. There must have been close to 7 gigs of drunk snapshots, of the floor, blurry eyed people, titties, more titties, people humping each other, kromagnum man.

Well the dancing gets into full swing and there were good moves being laid out on the floor. (Julien where is pundances.com damnit.) At some point someones belt was off and within arm reach of my grabby hands. So I grabbed it and began to twist it around my head like it’s a helicopta. Dixon being the soberest out of the group was still so hurt from the night before that he elected not to drink even after I gave him the speech that went something like this. “I know exactly what you need to get your engine started my friend,” chest poke as I lean back and gather my composure and feet beneath my staggering top heavy upper body,” a big ole shot of tequila!” He looks at me and laughs and I don’t remember what he said but it was funny, but I digress. As I slang the chopper belt around my head I catch a glimpse of Dixon flinching with fear and motions for me to stop slanging. I looked at him like a scorn child beaten for opening his Christmas presents to soon. He points over my shoulder instructing me to look behind. As I turn around I see a nice dressed young man cowering in the only corner of the bar he had that was free from a lashing from the helicopta blade. I immediately handed the belt back to whoever I got it from and went about drinking as if nothing had happened.

I then made my way over to the bar only to be greeted by the big girl again, sheilding my face I turn and act engrossed in a deep conversation. Moments later I hear Karen screaming, "No I didn't." Immediately followed by someone else, maybe Joe saying, "Yes you did I saw you pop a squat right there up against the wall and piss!!!" My attention quickly shifted from eye level to the ground and to my suprise I standing in a puddle of steamy girl excriment. You are disgusting. I cannot believe that you pissed in a bar, I fully excpect that kind of behavior from a few of our male counterparts and in some drunken cases myself included. But you look like such a nice little innocent girl and yet when you open your mouth and pop squats in the middle of the bar with 100s of people within sight. What the fuck.

I would like to include at this point that later on that night
Mcgee came up to and said the faithful words
"Im so Sincere."
I then began to do my damndest to squeeze out what
water or liquid my bladder did comprise itself of.
I did not manage to piss in my pants but I did try.
I did it for you Mcgee, all for you.

I don’t remember much else in the bar besides these stray still shot memories,

- Pissing on a wet floor sign that was on top of the toilet

- Blatantly disregarding the No smoking section

- Telling the hottest girl in the bar that if she wanted my cigarette she had to kiss me and I mean now.

- Erin grabbing my ass and my retaliation

- Oggoling at the titties.

- Mcgee snapping a picture of Karen crying, then turning to me to scream I got the drama on film.

- Scotty doesn’t know. (there should be some evidence in the video we took)

- More titties.

- Big girl encounter number 3 of the night, only this time she was drooling, Holy Shit!

After leaving the bar we hiked a ways or what seemed like a ways to the best spot to get a cab voted on by the local bicycle police. Nuts passed out on a bench and we stood and fought for a cab for a few minutes. After some frame of time had passed, don’t ask me I don’t know but I was there, A Chevrolet mailbu rolled up with his O so cute décor on his car marking him for a cab. Our group of Nuts, Mcgee, Paq, erin, cassie and myself along with two other strangers piled into the car. It was quite uncomfortable as a matter of fact now that I am thinking about it. I would like give a big fuck you to paq who gleefully sat in the front as the two biggest fuckers stuffed themselves in the back with four other people. That was just plain shitty. It would have taken 32 mexicans to pack that backseat as much as we did that night. After arriving at the hotel the driver looked at us square in the face and with a chesser cat smile, allowing us to see his midnight black ass, demanded that we each pay him $20 dollars per person. That is right folks that is 20 US green backs. We told him what we thought of him, I mean I poked him in the shoulder whilst cussing at him told him where to stick as Paquette was barricading the door to make sure no one else besides himself could get in. Such a pussy, first you take the front seat and then you run from the black man that I am backing down.

More snapshot memories from the conclusion of the night were:

- Nuts passing out in the middle of the hallway between the rooms

- Myself falling on Lynn’s air mattress with a Ginormous thud, that one goes out to you Nutsy

- Waking up in the middle of the night to repossess the covers Cassie had stolen from me.

- Snoring like a pot of mucus was dumped down my nostrils and into my throat.

- Wondering why it takes Paq so long to get ready.

As we packed our cars we said our goodbyes as close friends readied themselves for a long trip home. I thoroughly enjoyed the weekend and will miss everyone who isn’t in the Carolina’s. We are all lucky to have such good friends.

It took me until late afternoon on Monday to get my head straight again.

- Pun

Don't frett its coming. Not quite sure I spelt frett right.

- Pun

Next Entry

I have used up all my brainpower for one day and will have to the recount the happenings of New Years another day, or when i have regain composure.

Love,

Pun

P.S. If you have any additional facts and or stories that I have missed please feel free to leave a comment or email me at wardsigma1162@gmail.com

New Years Eve Eve

Warning: The writer of this blog is not to be held responsible for the accurate or inaccurate description of the events that took place on said dates. There shall neither be any responsibility towards the defamation of character to the people who will be distastefully put down within the next two entries on this website.

In laments terms: If you were fucked up on either of these nights and did somethings stupid, I am going to write about it through my eyes and if I dont remember it correctly because I was fucked up, you had better believe I'll find someone that will remember.

Heeerrree we gooo....

Crew In Attendance: Marc Lynn, Pun , McGee, Dixon, Julien, Joe, Jewell, Karen, Cassie (Dog and Girl), Anderson, Erin, Paqueesha, Trey.

For weeks now the extended group of our friends have been sending out emails in anticipation of New Years. The upcoming weekend marks a time when we as a group will be together as we were in college and now that some of our close buddies have moved away we very much look forward to the big holidays, due to the restrictions of the real world. Fucking jobs.

Lynn's house is the fall out zone for the weekend. Downtown charlotte has been targeted as the drop zone for New Years Eve. We assemble at Lynn's house early friday afternoon. The gamecocks, under Spurriers new reign, have to defend themselves in the mighty Independence bowl. Fuck Shreveport, L.A. (Home of Hurricane Katrina, which should have been there sponsor, God knows it brought enough money to the town). Needless to say we blew our lead and lost the game. Looking back I am quite positive this did not aid to the soberness of the evening.

We continued to drink, suggestions are made about how to pass the time. Some shouting out at 7 pm that we should head down town, yet another sign of bad things to come. Dixon pulls out trivial pursuit, which is not warmly welcomed by the crowd. Only after claiming that Himself (Dixon), Joe, and Trey, could take on the lot of us, did the competition of Trivial Pursuit take place. Team Scholars took on Team Remedial, the name was due to some unwarranted shit talk from Paq towards mcgee revealing that Mcgee, Nuts, and some other unnamed patrons (myself), took remedial math to start their college careers. The game takes a couple of hours and the only way we were even able to stay in the game was due to the fact we had an asian on our team. Smart little bastards.

Earlier in the day Mcgee had taken it upon himself to test out the shock collar for Cassie, the dog not the girl, by gauging its intesnity while outside the perimeter of the shock fence. We once again decided to test the collar this time after being dazed by the alcohol. Mcgee showed several of us where the line was and we put the collar in our hand and proceded through. First Dixon, myself and fianlly Anderson. The shocks were funny but didnt quite cut it. We convinced Anderson to wear the collar around his neck as if a dog and to walk past the trip cord on all fours. Hilarity insued as not only did he shock himself but was picked up by Dixon held over the trip cord and swung back and forth to trigger the shock. Things will never change.

The amount of alcohol consumed was ludicrous.(6 suitcases of beer, liter of makers mark, half a bottle of crown, along with homemade jager bombs, Trey drank his own handle of Jim Beam). DAMN!!! And the illustrious decision of the group was to head downtown. Downtown Rock Thrill that is, for those that don't know this is the most happening spot on the planet. If you are partying anywhere in LA or New York you are missing out. We load up our cars determining which persons are least drunk to drive. At one point Lynn's truck was packed full, bed and all. The executive decision was made to take another car due to death factors being calculated if a truck flipped over with people in the back. On the way to the bar Lynn's truck was in the ditch, all four lanes of traffic, along with disobeying every traffic law known to man.

My ride downtown was not much better. Before leaving the house Drunk Dixon asked me if he could take me to the back room and give me three pumps. "Three pumps isn't gay, its just experimenting." On the ride there the conversation changed from gay sex to admitting that he had sex with his couch. Dixon saying "Sometimes you have to switch it up, it gets old with lube and my couch is just oh so sexy. Oh OOOHHhhhhh Broy-Hill you're my jam."

Before entering the bar dixon and I slammed into the window knocking over the bar decoration. To describe our group of friends, when we go to a bar or restaurant we take over the place in its entirety. We monopolize the situation with our shear size both in numbers and a couple of us are scary to fuck with, at least appearing that way. Drinks are ordered and shots are on their way. Dixon finds a bottle of mustard and begins to pour some into Paq's hand saying take a shot. After Paq's shot, he moves to Trey who is already out of his mind drunk. Dixon threatening his life pours literally half a cup of mustard into Trey's hand. Trey then proceeds to dispose of the contents of his hand on his shoe and the bar floor.

The shots arrive as Dixon clears his throat to ready himself for the mushy toast needed to start the night off right. Dixon went on to say that we are the best friends he'll ever find and that the bar tender is an old high school buddy, and that we should take advantage of the connection. He then proceeds to buy drinks for three young ladies already at the bar and they shyfully accept along with gracefully join us. (They have no idea what they have gotten themselves into). They sit and drink with us, apparently free drinks are worth our company.

To be completely honest I am now going to have to piece things together that are blurred snap shots in my head. The following is probably not accurate what so ever but i am doing my best people.

Several people have expressed concern for Dixon at this point, because his intoxication level is astronomical. He has now begun to approach the regular bar patrons and ask them to slap him in the face as hard as they can. When they do slap him his rebuttal is "Thats all you've got pussy, you can hit harder than that." Witnessing these acts, I only wanted to increase the chance of a fight breaking out. Reaching over the patrons shoulder, bringing my hand around his neck and up over his shoulder I said, "You have to hit him like this". A deep red mark was left on his face along with the astonishing look on the patrons face turning to terror as he hears the evil laugh echoing from my tar laden throat. We head to the next patron and introduce ourselves as brothers. He then tells the new patron that the previous guy wants to kick his ass, and that he should take the initiative and not sit on his heels.

The usual antics of Paq and cassie making out are preceded by Paq being dared to put his pants around his ankles and he drops trou, without much thought.

Trey looks like shit, and is extremely sleepy.

After drinking till 2:30 its time to go home. Since Pun has no recollection of this, I'll handle the explanation. (Lynn) While I have no clue how I got from the bar to the truck, I do remember getting in the truck, and looking around at the 4 other people with Paq riding shotgun. I start the truck up, pull out into the street and Paq asks "Lynn, are you OK to drive? Just tell me you're OK to drive". At which point I pick my head up, scream "nope, I'm out" jump out of the truck, into another car with Trey in it, and proceed to head home, leaving the 4 other people in my vehicle confused and now, lost in Rock Hill.

While everyone else left the bar Dixon, Joe, Julien, Anderson and myself prodded the bar tenders for more drinks. Anderson and Dixon talked to the two girls left over from the toast earlier. Anderson was attempting to take the red headed fat slut home. After Julien threatens the lot of us we decide it'd be better to take the ride rather than walk home. We pile in and head home. Julien is taking turns like a mad man and has no idea what direction we are going or how to get us home. Dixon, Anderson and I are in the back seat. I begin to feel a little nauesas and being in the back seat is not helping. For some reason Anderson's entire body is being rapidly pushed into me. Dixon screams, "Don't tickle me again, hrrrmph!!!" As he lays into Anderson's ribs. "Don't touch my nipple again damnit, Pow, Wap, Bang." Anderson screams like a bitch. As I come out of my stupor i realize that Anderson hasn't touched Dixon one time, and Dixon is solely beating him for the sake of breaking Anderson in half. Dixon is laying into him with such viciousness that his strikes were brought up to the roof of the car as if trying to bust through the ceiling and flying down allowing gravity to get behind the swing. Dixon literally pushed Anderson and I into the door of the car. The pummeling continued for the entire car ride home.

(Dixon kicking Anderson while making a pitstop.)

After about 15 minutes or what i can only conclude to be 15 minutes as I have no earthly idea what the fuck time it was I called to the front seat to inform the driver that if he has two options. He could continue being lost with puke inside his car or we could pull over and I could heave the contents of my stomach onto the wet cold pavement of Rock Hill. After exiting the vehicle it wasnt long for the heaving to commence. Dixon exits the car to see if I am going to make it through the night, he asks if I am ok. I reply with a gargle.

Dixon's Logic is as follows:

If someone, including but not limited to a police officer sees Pun puking we will be in a bad situation and there has to be something i can do to help the circumstances. I know I'll get nekked and stand in the street to cause a distraction so that no one will see him puking.

Joe exits the car to yell at Dixon to put his clothes on and to get in the car. We load up and head home. Somehow by the grace of God, we find Lynn's house. Upon entry Dixon has an altercation with the mailbox, who called him and his father both pussies and that anal sex with his mother was like fucking an elephant that was giving birth to a calf. The mailbox lost due to bent frame not KO.

The couch looks like a good place to pass out and I take my place upon it calling to whomever would listen that a trashcan was in dire need to protect the carpet from more upheaval. The last thing I heard while puking was laughter as Dixon called to the ninja Gods to give him quickness and accuracy as he had decided to reach into the 4 story beer pyramid to remove the center can. Clang, KaaClang Clang Clang, as miller lite cans spread throughout the kitchen.

The following accounts are taken from Saturday morning stories as I do not remember anything Post couch upheaval pass out:

Actually I am going to let this picture sum up New Years Eve Eve.