Disaster Strikes

So me and my friends are no longer allowed to drink in my house as a result of last night's semi-annual Beer Olympics -- a night of heavy drink consumption revolving around one single continuous game. Last Holiday season was 72 Cup pong, this summer's was Brawlfest, and the most recent was Land Mines. 72 Cup banned us from Fish's house and Brawlfest banned us from Shanley's.

Land Mines is a game where you wager a drink and the contestant must chug the wagering cup and snatch a spinning quarter before it falls, or someone smashes it with an empty can (a land mine). Toph, however, fucked this up by pouring the wagerer's beer into the cup instead of the contestant's leaving no incentive to not dump all the beer in on every turn. What ensued was a shitshow.

My Brown Friend decided to bed himself in my room. This would've been fine if he didn't wake up 15 minutes later with the intent to run to the bathroom. Indulgently intoxicated, he couldn't find the door knob, and he found himself trapped in my room. He collapsed on the floor, only after pulling all my books off the shelves and vomiting on my wall/poster/carpet etc.

My mother ran downstairs to figure out just what the hell was going on in her home. She passed Toph, who had just thrown my grandmother's gift martini glasses, and was now ranting on at volume Barger had supposedly put water in his ear.

When she made it to the basement Barger was pissing in the sink and me and The Other Inditwin were trying to figure out how we had broken the glass on the table. "I hardly slammed it at all!"

Me and The Other Inditwin went upstairs to tend to My Brown Friend (The Other Inditwin's twin). He was passed out on the floor in a pool of puke that looked and smelled like Ale -- rightly so. After 10 minutes of bitching and screaming, me my mother and The Other Inditwin grabbed My Brown Friend by the arm and drug him to the bathroom, wrapped in my comforter, where he would sleep. My mother taught The Other Inditwin how to check his vital signs and he spent the night watching over the drunkard. It became apparent to my mother that he wasn't sober enough for the job when he refused to let her take her sweater out from underneath his head...I wonder what it is about drunk folk that makes them think saying no repetitively will convince people they are sober...

Anyway, to cut the rest of a long story short, I got done cleaning up at 5 this afternoon and my mother said, "You and your friends can't be drinking here anymore." ...My friends are assholes.

So, we continue the tradition of the Semi-annual Beer Olympics and slowly whittling away our locations to imbibe at.