Author: BROCK MILLER
For everyone that did not attend Saturday and wants to hear how “HARD” of weekend it was for my “Crew" and the events that took place, read this, otherwise go lay out in the middle of a highway…
Urban Dictionary definition of 'Go Hard':
GO HARD- To just drink all night and day until you can’t drink anymore... just get so drunk you can't remember nothing.
I’m not the one to write a story about every weekend of my life, unless I think it needs to be shared and something besides the usual drunkenness or vomiting of his or her insides out along with one mean-ass-hangover. But this weekend (12/10 - 12/12) was a lot more interesting. . .
Friday Night:
First off and foremost, I had every intention of gaining the title of the drunkest one out of EVERYONE, both Friday and Saturday.
It was a first… it wasn't Brock Miller. Fuck.
Skylar is supposed to take us to a double kegger at the cottages in CoMo (Columbia for all you slow and older people). We pass time waiting for him to get off work, by playing 'Landmines'. No 'Landmines' isn't a group of fat ugly grenades. Its death/drinking game that never fails of making me:
Landmines- A drinking game invented by some college students. This game involves plastic cups, a quarter, and lots and lots of canned beer. First you need to gather as many people as you want to play. Usually a good number is 4. The more people there are, the harder the game gets. Everyone sits around a large table or flat surface. Each player gets a plastic cup and a can of beer. They pour as much beer as they want into the cup, and then the first person spins the quarter on the table. Once the quarter is spinning, the player picks up their cup with one hand, chugs the beer in the cup, puts the cup down, and picks up the quarter with the same hand they chugged the beer with. If the quarter falls off the table, the player must drink what is in their cup, refill it, and spin/drink again. If the quarter hits another cup on the table, the player must drink what's in that cup as well as what is in their cup, refill their cup, and spin/drink again. When someone finishes a beer, they may place it on top of the quarter while it is spinning during any give turn. The player who was in the process of drinking when the can was placed must spin/drink again, and the can stays there for the rest of the game. If at any time the quarter hits the can, the player must spin/drink again. The game goes until you run out of beer or everyone passes out.
The aftermath after an hour and a half between 3 people, a 12 pack of Busch, and 2 Sparks was a very good buzz and Skylar finally coming back to the apartment at 11:00pm.
At 11:10pm we are in Jamies’ brand new mustang, with (sober) Skylar driving us over to the cottages for the kegger. We arrive… the smell... was the first thing that hits you, a mixture of the most ridiculous body odor, stanky twats, and spilled beer. That's why god made old spice guys, come on.
A mental picture of this place, of what I remember- It was a PJ themed party, when I walked in the front door into the living room, there was a hardwood floor, laser and backlights everywhere, a 8ft beer pong table to the far right, stair case to the left (What was up there, not a clue… Sex?), and another room with two of the best looking kegs I’ve seen, just past the living room.
Two hours pass... girls are grinding to the the music, some so fucked up they looked like a downy trying to fit into the groove, then some guys trying there A-game on the girls, 80% getting rejected, 10% wishing they didn't come with their girl friends, 5% scoring, and the other 5% ultimately passed out.
-Drunk Scale-
Brock- Inebriated
Deven- Drunk
Skylar- Possibly Sober
Jamie- Shit-housed
The party was shut down when the cops were coming to kill the party. Every PJ dressed douche bag and whore scrammed, it was like I was in a horror movie running away from a killer dressed as Jason or Freddy. One guy wearing a full body PJ suit walks calmly to the gates, we follow to disappear. On the way back to the car I stole some type of a flower, not 100% sure what color it was even, it was in a nice newly bought flower pot though. I wanted to take it back with us to the apartment; it’s tradition to come back with something from the cottages, how you think we got our beer pong table… dumb drunks. This reminds me of the weekend before when I ended up with a house hold vacuum cleaner in my trunk.
On the way home, Jamie passed out. It was not one of those casual passing out moments. His body was completely dead, when I say dead I mean D-E-A-D. We all didn’t want to say it but we all knew what each other where thinking, none of us could feel his pulse. Skylar pulled Jamie’s mustang into the driveway and we carried his drunk ass in let him walk from the living room to the bathroom to make himself a nice pallet to pass out. Jamie did in fact get the title for Friday night.
That was just pre-game for the night we planned on having Saturday night… But of course you try to plan something so epic it never goes the way you want it to…
Saturday Night:
As Brant quoted at the beginning of the night,
“I feel like it’s going to be one of those night’s guys!”
NOT JUST A N-O, BUT A HELLLL NO BRANT! Not at all was it ‘One of those nights’ for me or half of the party. I blame DEVEN FUCKINGDOUCHEBAG PACE for how the night ended partly for the karma filled fortune telling picture he posted on my wall on Thursday before the weekend even started off.
Saturday night was not at all like the other nights I usually go out to get drunk, do crazy things, and have a good time. I don’t remember a lot of this one, I usually have some memory recollecting the night before. But from 11pm to 7am. I have no memory of the night. Here is a summary of what happened accordingly to my friends and facebook. . .
That night started off just as good as any night with Kenton and me killing the pong table as usual, waiting for a challenge like R-O-B Vernon and Chad. At 7:30pm I take shots with everyone in the house with my Captain Morgan Lime Bite. (I recommend not buying, not a fan) and I toast…
“Here’s you, here’s to me, BEST FRIENDS we will always be
if we ever disagree here’s to me, and FUCK YOU!”
Fuck it we ‘GO HARD’ I toast again…
“Here’s to the FIRE, not the fire that burn’s down shacks and
shanties, but burns down PANTS and PANTYS!”
Shot 1 and 2 down the hatch. Fuck.
Over the time between 7:30pm and 11pm these are the events I recall.
1. Kenton and I’s winning streak coming to an end.
2. FUCK YOU to the guy who gave me Jose Cuervo. Shot 3 and 4 also down.
3. Taking 2 more shots of Jagermeister with Aaron Burger. Another good toast I shout out… Shot 5 and 6 going down…
“Here’s to the bee that stung the bull that got it buckin’.
Here’s to Adam who stuck it to Eve who got the whole world a fuckin’.”
4. Shelby and Emily stealing my Gatorade bottle of my mix. Not cool.
5. Some more games of ‘Landmines’. Entering Rock Star mode…
6. Collin and I starting an ass kicking of a game of pong…..
After #6 this is what I was told in the morning when I ask,
“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!"
Stephen was… Well he was in another state of mind, FOUR + FOUR LOKO-ED, He was SHIT-FACED, SHIT-HOUSED, and SHIT-HAMMERED, and in some states he would have already been declared legally dead. But hey we don’t fuck around when it comes to our booze.
A fight was started for a reason, I couldn’t tell you, I don’t recall. But it landed my brotha, Stephen So-Swasted Price in the ER with a fractured eye socket. I understand fighting for a reason, but… a kid who’s B.A.C is that HIGH... not right. It’s like me picking on all the downys in town, it’s not right; I know how big of an asshole I look like now. God have mercy on my friends and me for that last statement.
I was told I owe it to Mr. Golden Glove for the blind side and sleep mode... Thanks for the broken jaw (I’m being a Smartass). If I had deserved it, well I deserved it, but it wasn’t necessary I understand and I don’t think I was to that point of my drunkenness…… yet. Usually at that point I start to say anything, no matter how offensive or mean, to anyone, no matter how helpless or undeserving. Hope everyone laughs at my misfortune as much as I did the next morning. I feel sorry for the guys that ended my brotha and I’s night early, I don’t think they were having as GOOD as time as the rest of us.
After that episode, I am already blacked out from a mixture of the booze and my first black jawbreaker I had tasted in the 18 years, also vomiting uncontrollably in the living room.(#1 and #2 in the list of things you can expect from playing ‘Landmines’).
Thank you "Swaqqaholics", Tyler, Adam, Trigg, Brad, Kyle, Sean, EJ for the in home intensive care.I’m sorry on the other hand, for all 6 shots, busch light, and mixed drinks, finally catching up and pissing my pants as you carried me up or down stairs, I forget. I did pull a Talladega Nights and keep the same pants on till 5pm the next day. (Gross? Yes, but I think that’s not the nastiest thing you will hear from my friends I have done if you ask them.)
2am. The cops showed up at the house, this would explain why at 7am I found 5 thrash bags full of beer cans and a empty keg trashcan full of bottles and red cups downstairs in the smush room closet.
Knock…Knock.
(Inside everyone was in ‘Closet Mode’ and the lights are all off.)
Cop 1 “This is the Columbia police department, open up!!”
Cop 2 “We aren’t here for the under-age drinking…”
Deven “No one’s homeeeee”
Cop 1 “We know someone is home, please open up we are here to check on the other male.”
Deven (opens the door)
Cop 1 “Are you the owner?”
Deven “Nope, but you might want to come inside to make sure my friends is still breathing.”
Cop 1 “I can’t come inside unless the owner is present.”
Take a minute to think about this, the one time half the party is still up and still drinking and the other half is passed out on the steps, floor, or in bed… You WANT the cops to come inside to check on me… they won’t… But I wasn’t told why the cops finally came inside but they ended up coming in anyways.
Still yet I have no memory of what happened and what was going on, but as this story is finished by my friends…
The cops leaned over the death bed and shined a flash light into both my pupils. I don’t know about you or how your friends ‘take care’ of you when you are passed out. But we obey man law; don’t pass out with your shoes on. Maybe it’s just because I am still waiting for Deven to get back at us for shaving both his legs, writing a full paragraph on his stomach, and put him outside all in one night. But when this pig shines a light in my eye, I’m thinking its Deven or Trigg fucking with me. I slapped the cop across the face and pulled a Seth Fulks, “Brock Miller says NO!” Then went back to sleep mode. #31 on the do list; CHECK.
#31 Hit a copper.
7am. I wake up somewhere that I have never seen before, and do not recognize.
#7 on the things that will happen to you after playing my drinking games.
For everyone that did not attend Saturday and wants to hear how “HARD” of weekend it was for my “Crew" and the events that took place, read this, otherwise go lay out in the middle of a highway…
Urban Dictionary definition of 'Go Hard':
GO HARD- To just drink all night and day until you can’t drink anymore... just get so drunk you can't remember nothing.
I’m not the one to write a story about every weekend of my life, unless I think it needs to be shared and something besides the usual drunkenness or vomiting of his or her insides out along with one mean-ass-hangover. But this weekend (12/10 - 12/12) was a lot more interesting. . .
Friday Night:
First off and foremost, I had every intention of gaining the title of the drunkest one out of EVERYONE, both Friday and Saturday.
It was a first… it wasn't Brock Miller. Fuck.
Skylar is supposed to take us to a double kegger at the cottages in CoMo (Columbia for all you slow and older people). We pass time waiting for him to get off work, by playing 'Landmines'. No 'Landmines' isn't a group of fat ugly grenades. Its death/drinking game that never fails of making me:
- Blacking out.
- Vomit uncontrollably.
- Breaking things.
- Claim to be an renowned expert on things I could not begin to explain when sober.
- Become very angry with inanimate objects, and loudly curse them.
- Have long and involved conversations over important topics that I have no recollection of the next day.
- Wake up somewhere that I have never seen before, and do not recognize.
Landmines- A drinking game invented by some college students. This game involves plastic cups, a quarter, and lots and lots of canned beer. First you need to gather as many people as you want to play. Usually a good number is 4. The more people there are, the harder the game gets. Everyone sits around a large table or flat surface. Each player gets a plastic cup and a can of beer. They pour as much beer as they want into the cup, and then the first person spins the quarter on the table. Once the quarter is spinning, the player picks up their cup with one hand, chugs the beer in the cup, puts the cup down, and picks up the quarter with the same hand they chugged the beer with. If the quarter falls off the table, the player must drink what is in their cup, refill it, and spin/drink again. If the quarter hits another cup on the table, the player must drink what's in that cup as well as what is in their cup, refill their cup, and spin/drink again. When someone finishes a beer, they may place it on top of the quarter while it is spinning during any give turn. The player who was in the process of drinking when the can was placed must spin/drink again, and the can stays there for the rest of the game. If at any time the quarter hits the can, the player must spin/drink again. The game goes until you run out of beer or everyone passes out.
The aftermath after an hour and a half between 3 people, a 12 pack of Busch, and 2 Sparks was a very good buzz and Skylar finally coming back to the apartment at 11:00pm.
At 11:10pm we are in Jamies’ brand new mustang, with (sober) Skylar driving us over to the cottages for the kegger. We arrive… the smell... was the first thing that hits you, a mixture of the most ridiculous body odor, stanky twats, and spilled beer. That's why god made old spice guys, come on.
A mental picture of this place, of what I remember- It was a PJ themed party, when I walked in the front door into the living room, there was a hardwood floor, laser and backlights everywhere, a 8ft beer pong table to the far right, stair case to the left (What was up there, not a clue… Sex?), and another room with two of the best looking kegs I’ve seen, just past the living room.
Two hours pass... girls are grinding to the the music, some so fucked up they looked like a downy trying to fit into the groove, then some guys trying there A-game on the girls, 80% getting rejected, 10% wishing they didn't come with their girl friends, 5% scoring, and the other 5% ultimately passed out.
-Drunk Scale-
Brock- Inebriated
Deven- Drunk
Skylar- Possibly Sober
Jamie- Shit-housed
The party was shut down when the cops were coming to kill the party. Every PJ dressed douche bag and whore scrammed, it was like I was in a horror movie running away from a killer dressed as Jason or Freddy. One guy wearing a full body PJ suit walks calmly to the gates, we follow to disappear. On the way back to the car I stole some type of a flower, not 100% sure what color it was even, it was in a nice newly bought flower pot though. I wanted to take it back with us to the apartment; it’s tradition to come back with something from the cottages, how you think we got our beer pong table… dumb drunks. This reminds me of the weekend before when I ended up with a house hold vacuum cleaner in my trunk.
On the way home, Jamie passed out. It was not one of those casual passing out moments. His body was completely dead, when I say dead I mean D-E-A-D. We all didn’t want to say it but we all knew what each other where thinking, none of us could feel his pulse. Skylar pulled Jamie’s mustang into the driveway and we carried his drunk ass in let him walk from the living room to the bathroom to make himself a nice pallet to pass out. Jamie did in fact get the title for Friday night.
 |
| "I piss of excellence." |
Saturday Night:
As Brant quoted at the beginning of the night,
“I feel like it’s going to be one of those night’s guys!”
NOT JUST A N-O, BUT A HELLLL NO BRANT! Not at all was it ‘One of those nights’ for me or half of the party. I blame DEVEN FUCKINGDOUCHEBAG PACE for how the night ended partly for the karma filled fortune telling picture he posted on my wall on Thursday before the weekend even started off.
 |
Deven- "Hopefully this is you sunday morning..." |
That night started off just as good as any night with Kenton and me killing the pong table as usual, waiting for a challenge like R-O-B Vernon and Chad. At 7:30pm I take shots with everyone in the house with my Captain Morgan Lime Bite. (I recommend not buying, not a fan) and I toast…
“Here’s you, here’s to me, BEST FRIENDS we will always be
if we ever disagree here’s to me, and FUCK YOU!”
Fuck it we ‘GO HARD’ I toast again…
“Here’s to the FIRE, not the fire that burn’s down shacks and
shanties, but burns down PANTS and PANTYS!”
Shot 1 and 2 down the hatch. Fuck.
Over the time between 7:30pm and 11pm these are the events I recall.
1. Kenton and I’s winning streak coming to an end.
2. FUCK YOU to the guy who gave me Jose Cuervo. Shot 3 and 4 also down.
3. Taking 2 more shots of Jagermeister with Aaron Burger. Another good toast I shout out… Shot 5 and 6 going down…
“Here’s to the bee that stung the bull that got it buckin’.
Here’s to Adam who stuck it to Eve who got the whole world a fuckin’.”
4. Shelby and Emily stealing my Gatorade bottle of my mix. Not cool.
5. Some more games of ‘Landmines’. Entering Rock Star mode…
6. Collin and I starting an ass kicking of a game of pong…..
After #6 this is what I was told in the morning when I ask,
“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!"
Stephen was… Well he was in another state of mind, FOUR + FOUR LOKO-ED, He was SHIT-FACED, SHIT-HOUSED, and SHIT-HAMMERED, and in some states he would have already been declared legally dead. But hey we don’t fuck around when it comes to our booze.
A fight was started for a reason, I couldn’t tell you, I don’t recall. But it landed my brotha, Stephen So-Swasted Price in the ER with a fractured eye socket. I understand fighting for a reason, but… a kid who’s B.A.C is that HIGH... not right. It’s like me picking on all the downys in town, it’s not right; I know how big of an asshole I look like now. God have mercy on my friends and me for that last statement.
I was told I owe it to Mr. Golden Glove for the blind side and sleep mode... Thanks for the broken jaw (I’m being a Smartass). If I had deserved it, well I deserved it, but it wasn’t necessary I understand and I don’t think I was to that point of my drunkenness…… yet. Usually at that point I start to say anything, no matter how offensive or mean, to anyone, no matter how helpless or undeserving. Hope everyone laughs at my misfortune as much as I did the next morning. I feel sorry for the guys that ended my brotha and I’s night early, I don’t think they were having as GOOD as time as the rest of us.
 |
 |
Classic... Megan Fox must of finally made it into my dreams |
2am. The cops showed up at the house, this would explain why at 7am I found 5 thrash bags full of beer cans and a empty keg trashcan full of bottles and red cups downstairs in the smush room closet.
Knock…Knock.
(Inside everyone was in ‘Closet Mode’ and the lights are all off.)
Cop 1 “This is the Columbia police department, open up!!”
Cop 2 “We aren’t here for the under-age drinking…”
Deven “No one’s homeeeee”
Cop 1 “We know someone is home, please open up we are here to check on the other male.”
Deven (opens the door)
Cop 1 “Are you the owner?”
Deven “Nope, but you might want to come inside to make sure my friends is still breathing.”
Cop 1 “I can’t come inside unless the owner is present.”
Take a minute to think about this, the one time half the party is still up and still drinking and the other half is passed out on the steps, floor, or in bed… You WANT the cops to come inside to check on me… they won’t… But I wasn’t told why the cops finally came inside but they ended up coming in anyways.
Still yet I have no memory of what happened and what was going on, but as this story is finished by my friends…
The cops leaned over the death bed and shined a flash light into both my pupils. I don’t know about you or how your friends ‘take care’ of you when you are passed out. But we obey man law; don’t pass out with your shoes on. Maybe it’s just because I am still waiting for Deven to get back at us for shaving both his legs, writing a full paragraph on his stomach, and put him outside all in one night. But when this pig shines a light in my eye, I’m thinking its Deven or Trigg fucking with me. I slapped the cop across the face and pulled a Seth Fulks, “Brock Miller says NO!” Then went back to sleep mode. #31 on the do list; CHECK.
#31 Hit a copper.
7am. I wake up somewhere that I have never seen before, and do not recognize.
#7 on the things that will happen to you after playing my drinking games.
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