Everyone has New Year’s resolutions. Some people want to lose weight, get laid for a first time, not date such assholes or sluts who fuck you over, make more money, party less, drink more but I had a New Year’s resolution for 2010 different than those: End 2010 harder than I ended in 2009. Completed: 12/31/10.
I said my New Year’s resolution for 2011: Would not be losing weight, I like to think of myself as not that big. I get laid, so that’s out. Everyone gets fucked over, fuck life fucks you over. I could always use more money. I could never party less, I could always drink more. But I thought mine for 2011 would be something worth writing about, something I haven’t done yet, probably one no one cares about, but fuck you all, right? So here are some of my friends New Year’s Resolution and mine:
Brock NYR-2011: Win the 3rd annual 50-Hour Challenge; No sleep, All drinking.
Nate NYR-2011: Out-do the 2010 ghost of Nate Bell in EVERY way possible. You know…beer, bitches, etc.
Kent NYR- 2011: Never lose in a Shot-Gun Race… Even though I still never lost.
Seth NYR- 2011: More fat chicks; Get alcohol poisoning again.
Deven NYR- 2011: Survive all the alcohol I will consume this year. That an easy one, right?
Jared NYR- 2011: Quit havin naps; Cuttin in my drinkin time.
If you know me, which most of you don’t because you cannot handle someone one like me or let alone handle all of us in your life, or if you know anyone around the town I live in, or hung out with any of us at one point in your life. Then you know us, you know us well, and we are all about one thing… getting white boy wasted. So we pre-game. No one wants to show up to a party sober. Well me and my friend, Nate, we couldn’t go to the New Year’s party without some good stories to show up with and prepare our liver ready for a Mike Tyson knock out, I mean it’s the biggest party of the year, besides my birthday. So we did our Pre-gaming non-stop for 5 days up to the eve of what will be the greatest New Year’s in my eighteen years of precious life on the 3rd rock from the sun, earth. So I asked Nate to type some of the tells of our adventures before the New Year:
The HELL of Ten High
As you probably know already Brock and I spent our Christmas break drinking beer, getting shitty, and causing trouble. Night after night, making story after story, but one night stands out from the bunch. You know it’s kind of like that one fat chick at the party that sticks out the most and everyone tries to avoid her until there body has had enough alcohol, you know guys?
The night began as it always does with a trip to town, having no plans whatsoever, and a few bucks to get me by. I meet up with Brock at Village Green and we try to decide on what to do. We had a pretty good idea of what might happen but no official plans until Brock said:
“I’m in the mood to get FUUUUUUUUUUCKED UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!”
Obviously I wasn’t going to sober chauffer his ass around the gravel roads so my plan was to get just as drunk or even more than he planned to. We can get pretty drunk off beer (IF you give us enough of it) but there was only one way we could get “fucked up.” We both knew what had to be done, just then we turn to each other and both blurt out:
“TEN HIGH! … FUCK!”
(You would understand why we both said “FUCK” if you knew our first encounter with this devil-of-a-whiskey. I’m not sure how Ten High got the name, if I was founder it’d be called, Ten Under, because by the end of this night I felt ten feet under. FUCK!)
We placed an order with our buyer (a Mexican with pink shoes) who returned within seriously three minutes with a half-gallon of Ten High whiskey and a Busch Light tall boy for each of us. We also had a flask of Evan Williams as back-up in case all the other alcohol didn’t do the trick. All we needed next was some Coke to mix it with. We both polish off our tall boys first and I was the first to crack into the whiskey. Just the smell of this cheap shit brought back horrible memories; the taste of it was worse, like bad decisions, fuck it! Time to hit some g-roads!
After about an hour of gravel I had finished my first Rt. 44 of Coke and Ten High while Brock was still sucking on the straw like it was a nipple or some shit. Finally I said:
“I knew you were a pussy but I swear I heard you said you wanted to get FUUUCKED UPPP…so get that sand out of your vagina and DRINK UP!”
I know Coke and whiskey isn’t ever meant to be chugged but we started the 5 seconded chugs: 5-4-3-2-2-2-2-2-1-DONE. Miles down the road we are feeling pretty buzzed but not even close to “fucked up.” We had a long night ahead of us; that is until it came to a halt when Brock’s Mazda couldn’t make it up this mountain that was covered in a thin layer of snow and ice. If you saw this hill, you wouldn’t think twice if you were in Himalayas staring directly at Mount Everest. If you have ever been gravel roading with us before you know that one of our rules is “No reverse; never turn around.” We had two options: Make it up this hill and continue on our way OR call it quits like a couple of pussies and break our own rule. But we are conquers, So…
…I get my happy ass out of the car and start to push. After a few minutes of spinning tires and getting sprayed with ice and mud we get momentum and make it to a flat spot in the road. HOO-FUCKING-RAY!!! I jump back in and we continue down the road only to find another hill. We are stuck. Again. Shit. My mighty strength wasn’t enough to get us up the hill this time, though.
So I devise a drunken plan, one that actually worked. I scrambled up empty beer cans, empty beer boxes from the trunk, even someone’s scarf which I think came from a snowman... anyway, I placed them on the ice in front of us to make a small path on top of the ice to drive on so we could build up speed. Holy shit it worked. I knew our collection of Busch Light boxes in the back would save us one day. I had a problem though Brock wasn’t stopping. He drives a few hundred yards to the peak of this giant mountain to make sure we were safe from being stuck again and made me run back to the car. Just imagine my drunken ass slipping and sliding all over the ice while Brock just sat back and laughed. Asshole.
We ROLLLL ON. Proud of myself for saving the day I treat myself to more whiskey. No Coke this time, straight out of the flask. At this point I am already feeling pretty damn drunk, only wanting more and more whiskey. I finish my SECOND Rt. 44 of Coke and Ten High before Brock has even finished his FIRST. Brock realizes he’s way behind on the race to get “fucked up” so he starts to take some straight whiskey out of the flask and bottle as well. (One day he will learn he will never match up to me, I give the poor kid props for trying though.)
You’ll have to ask Brock what happened from then until I was dropped off at my vehicle because I’m really not sure.
Anyway, it was about time to call it a night so Brock took me back to my vehicle, handed me the bottle of whiskey and told me to finish as much as I could. Without hesitation I start chugging the last bit, leaving Brock probably 3 shots left in the bottom. Like a champ he finishes it. A half gallon of Ten High and 2 Tall Boys: GONE!
That night I don’t know what Brock ended up doing but I know I passed out with my head on our cushioned toilet seat throwing up. Some may call it dumb, shitty, etc. I call it SUCCESS.
THE EVE
Well after all that Pre-Gaming we made it to New Year’s eve alive, no jail time, no hospitals, all limbs attached…
3pm GOAL: Gravel Roading with myself, Nate, Sean and Kyle all the way to CoMo before 6pm, safely, no turning back, and I feeling somewhat buzzed (after a few beers, when I can feel the alcohol affecting me, but I think I can still drive reasonably well; My brain generally works like normal, though perhaps a little slow.) Completed goal with revisions… We actually didn’t make it to the party till 7pm but who gives a fuck right? It wasn’t a party till we showed up.
You may ask what kind of beer we had damage our liver and body’s this round? 2 cases of Busch Light, 12 Bottles of Michelob Ultra, and some kind of cheap whiskey for shots. Seems like a lot but between 3 ½ guys (the ½ being Sean, he is a light weight) I drank our last beer at 8:39am the next morning.
Good shit, right? We walked into Jamie Dick and Skylar Wright’s place in CoMo. We are the first to arrive; now it’s a party. Small numbers yes, but big hearts; ready to focus on 2010 New Year’s resolution. Jamie was the only one home at the time…
Brock- “Where is Skylar?”
Jamie- “Getting booze should be back in a sec.”
(Walking through the door with a detour sign, watermelon four loko, and a more booze in a brown paper bag.)
Skylar- “What’s up BITCHES!?”
This is all I needed to know that tonight was going to get better than just the 6 of us. I mean really who the fuck wouldn’t show up to a party with a guy who just stole a detour sign off a stand in the middle of a major city with a population of 102,324. I sure the hell would, to think this guy is already having a good time, and with the buzz we had going... We could make this night even better.
The party started to gain numbers and after our 4 games people from: Jeff City, New Bloomfield, and California (Missouri), started to show up. At 9:30 a good 35 people were there and Skylar was SHIT-FACED. I saw him take down a whole bag of skittles and then out of his mouth it came… like a beautiful rainbow you see arching from his mouth to the front porch. I posted a picture to show you the landing area. Skylar passed out around 10:00.
T-Minus 2 hours till the New Year and still I didn’t feel like I had topped last year yet. Shit needed to get crazy fast and the drunkenness everyone had going had to be turned up a notch in order to enter 2011 right, right? FLIP-CUP was the key. What better way to play 4 vs. with a full beer for four games straight? It became myself, Nate Bell, Ashtin Withers and Emily Bond, vs. ‘the others’. Game 1, W. Game 2, W. Game 3, W. Game, L. GOAL: Achieved, 4 beer’s in 6mins took my liver and mind into a different toll. Just keep in mind, we pre-gamed for 4 HOURS, bonging beers, beer pong along with the 5sec rule, and a round of Flip-Cup. Around 11 I think, 2010 NYR was beat: I was shit-housed (usually when I start to believe that my abilities have become nearly superhuman, that I am the best looking man in my geographical area, and that hunchback girl over by the wall is really hot too; As far as I am concerned, there is no road, policeman, or possibly even army, that can contain me. It is at this point that I cannot differentiate between an appropriate comment and an inappropriate one, so I just say whatever I feel like).
ALWAYS when you’re having this good of a time, something always has to go wrong and the gods of alcohol often entertain themselves at my expense. In the garage it got pretty hot and smoky, someone was told to open the garage door half way. We all watch the garage door lift its self up, cause we all have A.D.D and take interest in the smallest and dumbest things. As we watch the door slowly open to the half way mark like you watch the sun rise over the sky in the morning. We got to see outside, First… shiny black polished shoes… a small white light hitting the concrete…. Black pressed pants… a CPD badge.
Me- “The po-po is here?”
(Let me give you a mental picture what this place looks like… if you’re the cop standing outside the garage and looking in you see, a pong table in the middle and a mini fridge off to the left and the door to the kitchen is on the wall straight ahead, in the kitchen there is another door straight ahead to the deck and make a left around the counter you hit the living room and another hard left goes down stairs to Skylar’s room, the Smush room, a open bedroom, bathroom, and a couple of walk-in closets.)
I have never see a white kid run so fast away from a scene and make a stupid decision as Nate Bell, but I followed, because you know I trust Nate with my life. Nate was the first to go through the door to the kitchen followed by the other 15 people in there with us then I was the last to run through. It’s tough to fit that many people through a 3 foot wide door. The 15 smart ones run down stairs into closets and rooms, under beds like pussies, as for my brave leader he took us another journey to the deck and I am right behind him. I look up to see where we are running to and I watch Nate put both hands on the deck and jump, no hesitation like he has done it before. So fuck it right? You would not think it was a 2 story fall plus another 5ft of railing you had to leap over, onto a hard ground of ice, no you wouldn’t think of that in December. Fucking dumbasses.
Nate- “FUCK! DON’T JU......MP!!”
BBBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!
I hit the ground like a TKO from “The Iceman”, Chuck Liddell, I fucked my elbow, spilled my beer out of my hand, and laid next to Nate for a brief 5 seconds…
Brock- “Since when the FUCKING FUCK was it that FUCKING high! FUCK!”
We lay there and sit up, and look across the street behind the house and see two patrol cars, either coming for back up or leaving, we didn’t know. So we book it to the trees. Waited for 10 minutes or so and recon mission back to the front door, no cops were outside anymore. So we busted the door in like we were stars in COPS, only to find out the 10 minutes we were outside hiding like Mexicans from the INS we missed out on 10 precious fucking minutes of drinking time.
Somewhere after that incident and midnight, we sat around and discussed why the cops were coming to shut us down. But, who would have thought someone pocket dialed 911 and left it on speaker.
“911 what is your emergency”
“asljfhasjlfjalkf drink drink drink mother fucker.”
“wieuurfjsdknnv HERE’S TO ME, HERE’S TO YOU iadasbda CHEERS!”
“ asljdas PUSSY ASS N-GGA I DON’T WANT YOU GONHARRA!”
“Ok we will send dispatch with an ambulance to your location.”
CLICK. I’m positive that’s what the conversation went for whoever pocket dialed 911. Fuck you and your key guard.
1-1-11
12:00- A NEW YEAR. This means the 2010 Pre-game is over: 2011 Party is here.
Shots, cheers, toasts, vomit, and fireworks are all you heard for that 1min. Trigg outside, being the first one to vomit of the New Year. Several people were taking shots of Captain Morgan and Gin, toasts being yelled at, cans and glasses being cheered with, and outside next to Trigg on the yard to the left of us were a million different sounds and colors of fireworks going off all at once. It sounded like Armageddon outside. It was a good sight for the New Year, but the fireworks weren’t my thing, our cooler in the garage sounded and looked better than the sparks in the sky, so I walked off the garage with Nate and we drink and have a conversation about how the fuck we are supposed to top some of the things we did in 2010: Burn down a city, hospitalized, get drunk with people on the other side of the world, surely those fucks can’t be having a better time over there than here, fuck.You know that shower you take after sweaty sex, or the feeling you get when you leave the bathroom from a Mexican restaurant, or when you first got laid when you were 14, that what I felt like for those few first minutes of the New Year. Clark Kent (Superman) didn’t have shit on me; I was at the top with no place to climb. Now to just set the bar for 2011 and top 2010 somehow.
What happened after 12:01…? I’ll sum up. DRAMA. As much as I love drama, I mean I really do love being a part of drama, spreading drama, and hearing about drama. But I am not going to write about this one time… but somewhere in between 12:01 and 8am, Deven got his ear pierced on the left side. Classic.
8:00am- Where’s Waldo and the rest of the party?
Jared Westfall- Passed out in closet number 1.
Skylar- Still asleep in his room, by himself, probably dreaming of more skittles.
Nate- Passed out in a hall, in front of Skylar’s room.
Derek Brown- Living room floor, cock and balls drawn all over his face.
And about 10 other bodies asleep on the floor.
8:39am- The LAST beer was drunk. I’m sure I could have kept myself occupied by drawing on people’s face or shaving Deven’s legs. But fuck it, right? No beer, No fun…
9:15am I’m out.
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