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.