The Post-Easter Come Down

Dear Electronic Cry For Attention Online Diary,
I hate blogs. Or I thought I did. I'd always refused to take part in them because I pictured bloggers as nerdy, overweight white kids who sucked at sports and were prevented from communicating to others face to face because of their speech impediments. Then I realized that that was me! (minus the speech impediment) So I figured I'd give this blogging thing a shot, and if nothing else could provide you, dear diary, with few chuckles at my expense. Because, trust me, being a redneck from Kentucky in a college full of rich Northern kids as well as a generally hopeful and kind person in a world full of douche-bags provides plenty of awkward and entertaining moments. Plus I'll try to throw in a few music/movie/comedy tips along the way.

Okay, enough with introductions, let's get down to some stories. The season of Easter has come and gone once again, and once again I'm still going to hell. I didn't get the chance to mark the occasion by going to church and stuffing my face with Peeps until I threw up pink, like most years. Instead I went to a fraternity buddy's beach house on an island off the coast of South Carolina to attend his family's annual lobster boil. Nothing says death and resurrection like shell fish! The night of the party I was blackout drunk on margaritas before the sun had even thought about setting, and proceeded to take individual party guests off to the side of conversations and let them know how fucked up I was in a whisper for the rest of the night. Somewhere in the evening I spotted a lovely young lass from across the party and thought I'd stroll over and introduce myself. Turns out she was in the 8th grade... but I swear she looked like a 9th grader to me at the time, so it's not all my bad. We didn't get to chat too long because her mom saw me slurring compliments at her daughter (those jeanzz make yerr butt look niccce!) and quickly rushed over to cock-block. I don't blame her, there's nothing more frightening than witnessing me hitting on your daughter... or son (another story). So after that blew up in my face I decided to go outside and sprawl in a hammock, screaming at anyone who walked by to get me another beer. The night ended with me passing out face down on a screened in porch, waking up in the middle of the night because I was convinced that a deer was on the porch with me and trying to chase it down, and then passing back out into a sweaty slumber until noon the next day.
The next day on the beach my fraternity buddies and I tried to pick up some girls walking past us by telling them they could use our pool (aka the people who lived across the street and weren't there that weekend) and that we had a boat. Only after swimming in the pool did they tell us that they all had boyfriends who were down the beach. But they also made the mistake of telling us where they were staying on the island (probably because they are the inferior sex). So that night, after many many beers, we loaded up my friend's John Deere Gator with a cooler of beer and all the fireworks we had purchased on the drive down, which we then proceeded to set off on the girls with boyfriends porch and then speed off into the night laughing hysterically, and then we'd drive back five minutes later and do it again. After an hour or so we realized we were running low on beer and still hadn't been able to lure their males into a show of physical prowess on the front lawn. Suddenly one of my "bros" announced that he had to take a dump, and we all realized the genius of the plan before us. Like a drunken ninja my friend snuck up to their porch, dropped his swimsuit, and laid a sizable brick right in front of their door. And again we sped away laughing hysterically. But we weren't quite finished with our revenge. I happened to remember a prank from my younger years that I'd played with a friend on a girl who'd dumped him involving human feces and an M-80 firecracker, and told my buddies that we had to race back to complete the prank. Sneaking up to the porch like two drunken ninjas, but cooler ones than the first, two of us crept back up to the porch. There lay the brown grenade before us, in all its boyish glory. I quickly convinced my intoxicated friend that he should be the one to stick the firework in the poop (cuz that's gross) and that I would light it. As soon as the fuse was sparked we raced down the steps, my friend falling and twisting his ankle in the process, and I had to army carry him out of the yard screaming "Bring the Gator!!!" and as we heard the explosion and splatter behind us we sped off into the night laughing once again. We sure showed those bitches. Bet they won't have boyfriends now.
And thus ends the story of the second time in my life I have exploded human fecal matter with a firework.

Well that's about the time and humiliation I can provide for myself today. But check back in once in a while for more wacky anecdotes/morally questionable behavior. Till then:

Peace, Love, and all that other stuff that doesn't exist.