Remember that time David and I didnt get laid?

My grandfather was a cabbie.

This is how a non-scommped drunk post shall commence. I am drinking--err, drunk--with Mounisger Smelliot FartFace.

There were a number of ladies surriounding us all day. or evening. I am making an effort to postin with good spelling.

Dudes, drunk posting is hard.

Here is smelliout:

(Free-Hou out)

lets play a love game do you love game are you in the game? something the love game. l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-lets have some fun this beat is siiiick. THE STORY OF US, IT ALWAYS STARTS THE SAME WITH A BOY AND A GIRL AND A HUT AND A GAME?

I think she means jabba the hut. He's the only Hut I can think of.

OKay. So here's the best game ever. It isn't a love game. It's still fun and its called telephone pictionary. Obviously a shitty name for it. If you can think of a better name, feel free to let me know. Here's how you play.

1. For as many people as there are in the group you are, cut that many pieces of paper per person. Thus, if you are playing with 6 people, then each person gets 6 pieces of paper for a total of 36 pieces. The pieces of paper dont need to be that big. Only about 2x4 inches per piece.
2. To start, everyone writes down a word/phrase on their piece of paper.
3. Everyone passes their pieceS of paper to the left (or right, honestly i dont care). The important part is that ALL of the pieces of paper are passed at one time, not just the one you wrote on.
4. The person who receivers the papers reads the word/phrase and then draws a picture on a different piece of paper that "describes" the word/phrase.
5. All the pieces of paper are passed to the left (or right, honestly I dont care...honestly).
6. The receiving person sees the image and then writes a word for the image but DOES NOT look at the previous card which says the word that caused the other person to draw the picture. THIS IS HOW ITS LIKE TELEPHONE AND PICTIONARY AT THE SAME TIME.
7. "the world is spinning" -FreeHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
8. skeet
9. etc continuing from step (6).
10. I apologize if the above description is unclear.

And now...stream of consciousness from free ho.

"So there was a mountain this mountain is rounded on top. most of the time it was obscured by clouds. But one time it was clear and I saw both caps. One was gorgeous and the other one was taller. The other one was purple. Tri-coconut oil. It was a gorgeous blue sky. we would see things from miles around. SPeed and endurance...muircamp. THe little people caught me on the ridge. STOP. JUMP. SHIFT. STANDING Down there. THE RED. THE WHITE. THE CLEANLines. RUMMMMM RUMMM RUMMM. To the devils kitchen we go, look for the rum rum rum through the dark. From the back of the motorcycle. Look at the fins look at the dark look at the motorcycle. Look at the markers look at the red. Make camp. Learn to ride. Learn to DRINK. BIG bend. moab (mother of all bombs). THat was the best night of my life. That was the best day of my life."

Note: open to interpretation.

For Free-Ho

In a comment to my last post, Free-Ho asked the following:
Could you translate one section of your letter please? "...[but]now since we odont have allsasa grsh to unsult we oinly have bithces to insult."
What is 'allsasa grsh?'


I will translate and explain.
It means to say, "But now since we don't have Alyssa Hursh to insult, we only have bitches to insult."

Alyssa Hursh wrote this in THE CLAP fall term of last year:

WHY I HATE THE REC CENTER
by Alyssa Hursh

Here's the thing: I really like working out. Pounding the elliptical for an hour while watching reruns of America's Next Top Model on MTV is better than chocolate. Wikipedia says that the phenomenon of a runner's high is caused by anandamide, which has properties similar to the THC you smoked last weekend. Maybe my chemical receptors are stronger than most, but I invariably leave the gym feeling completely blissed out. Unfortunately, as of late, anandamide has been absent in my life. Why? Because I hate the Rec Center. And for solid, numerable reasons.

3. Entire Athletic Teams in the Rec at the Same Time: Swimmers, you upset me so much. Maybe you're trying to be polite by coming at 6:30 in the morning, but the only reason I go to the Rec before sunrise is to avoid working out with three dozen people. Then you refuse to re-rack your weights or put the step benches back in the dance studio. If you must work out en masse, let's see some courtesy. Cross country runners, you're just as bad. I do not need to know how low your heart rate is while you clip along on the treadmill. Neither does your friend across the room. Stop yelling your numbers at each other.

In response, at a Casa party at the end of the term, we, as a swim team, wrote this little ditty:




We never sent it, but it was found by a library staff member in a copier on 3rd libe and it was sent to the Dean of Students, and then they called Alyssa Hursh in...

Nothing ever came of it.





And the rest is history!