How do you spell douchbag? F-I-J-I F-R-A-T

[You mothers were lying when they told you weren't dense toolbags.]

I'm not sure when shit hit the fan but just get comfortable. You will be shocked. You will be disgusted. Fuck it here goes:

Sometimes the fun goes bad, real bad, real fast. A few months ago we set off to Berkeley to visit friends and get out of the city for a hot minute. Big mistake: we should never have left. We're always down for experiencing a good story to tell others about later and we promised our friend we'd come back with one. Oh, we had no idea what was coming our way.

Elise, Madeleine, Mary and I get to Berkeley around nine or ten. Mary goes to hangout with a friend of hers who is in a sorority at Berkeley. The three of us go to Elise's friends house and are hanging out and drinking a little. In no way were we drunk enough for level 10 awkwardness we were going to be put in.

So Mary's friend, Lacy, invites us to a frat house, which we think is a frat party or some shit. Whatever, when in Rome right? So we head over to a frat named FIJI. Seriously talk about walking into a situation completely blind, this is it. We walk up and the guy who answers the door is wearing, I KID YOU NOT, a shirt that says "I Heart Vagina." RED FLAG NUMBER ONE. We should have left right then and there.

Getting inside of this frat mansion we realize this is NO regular party. Apparently it is something called a "social" were it is the members of one sorority come hangout with the members of one fraternity. So put yourself in our shoes. Elise, Madeleine, and I were the biggest fish out of water in the world, and we're not anti-social people. Mary fit in a little better because she'd triple barrelled her hair and her so-cal up-bringing gave her some shelter.

So everyone there knew each other and knew we weren't suppose to be there. One guy comes up to me in the hallway and barks, "HEY! How did you get in here." I'm like, "I climbed through a window."

He, of course, believes me and thinks it's badass. (Whew) He invited the three of us into his room, where in order to handle this situation we get properly shit housed. We're taking vodka shots out of plastic jugs like were back in high school. Throwing one back every thirty second and doing hail-marys in between that we make it out of this god forsaken house alive. Elise goes to the bathroom and actually over sees a girl look her up and down and say to a friend, "I guess they're letting anyone in tonight."

LET ME BE CLEAR: My girls are gorgeous. Like knock-outs. Sure they're not always the classiest but I'd take them over these Forever 21 clad sorority sluts, who will end the night with one herpes infected fraternity dick getting pounded in each ear, while they puke their brains out in their Coach bags.

So this entire time, I have been ducking in and out of rooms trying to sneak shots in and seem invisible. I mean think about it, atleast Madeleine and Elise are girls, but I thought I'd be throw out by the collar at any second. (Wait, remind me again why were still at this house? I'm confused. Maybe it was the free alcohol.)

All of a sudden it all goes down, like a scene straight out of "Toolbag Academy" or something. Elise, Madeleine, Mary, and I are walking through a well lite hallway that had maybe 10 other people in it. There are 3 frat guys standing there and one of them just starts talking shit to Madeleine. About what she's wearing, asking her who let her in, telling her she should go back to Telegraph Street (implying she looks homeless.) I immediately get the scene from the OC season 1 in my head where Ryan gets beat up on the beach and told to go back to Chino. Seriously are we back here??

Thinking that I'm the guy that they'll go after and pounce on like a pack of fucking wolves, I leave down the stairs mid-fight. (I know, I know, what a knight in shining armour.) When you hear what happened next you'll be glad I saved my own life by leaving when I did. I get to the bottom of the stairs and find a huge empty living room with big leather couches. In my head revenge came out in the form of me peeing all over every couch in the room. To this day I am thankfully that no frat guys walked into the room while I was doing that, because I would probably be paralyzed from the waist down.

Meanwhile, upstairs Madeleine isn't taking any of this guys shit. She goes "Jersey" so fast on him, he had no idea what this blond chick had in store for him. Let's note that he was wearing white shorts, with a purple mesh jersey and trying to call other people out on their attire. Bitch, please. Then the guy has to go and call her a bitch, why do you have to go and do that stupid frat boy? He exits into a room and Madeleine goes right after him, taps him on the shoulder, and when he turns around, she drenches him with a big glass of tequila, orange juice, and Sprite. Sticky shit son.

He is fumming, that a woman would dare stand up to him. His first reaction? He grab Madeleine and puts her in a head-lock and holds it for about five seconds. Wait, is this really happening? Real tough putting a girl in a head lock you fucking dumbass. At this point I'm outside frantically smoking a cigarette until the girls get outside and explain what happened.

At this point we're wasted and PISSED. Elise, bless her soul, takes it upon herself to take a shit on this frat house's front steps. And no, she didn't just squat and drop real quick. Home girl posted up for a solid fifteen minutes before she could unleash her steamy goop all over their steps. HAHAHA, excuse me but these are the moments that convince me if I ever had a reality show it would be the best one out there.

Just as Elise is finishing up, I go over to grab the girls' purses which are laying on the sidewalk next to a cup of tequila and Sprite. By the time I turn around with the purses in hand, a very serious female police officer is about 4 inches away from my face. Uh oh, the conversation went something like this:

Lady Cop: What's in you cup over there?

Me: I don't know that's not my cup. (Deny, deny, deny)

Lady Cop: Don't lie to me. You were just holding that cup.

Me: No I was just grabbing their purses for them.

Lady Cop: How old are you?

Me: 19 babe.

[Mistake: Never, ever call a female officer "babe." No matter how cute you think it is. Fastest way to question their authority.]

Lady Cop: Don't call me BABE.

Me: I'm sorry MA'AM. It's a term of endearment coming from me, OFFICER.

The girls seeing how I'm digging myself into a hole and falling fast, cut in and start ranting about how Madeleine just got assaulted in the frat house that we are STILL standing outside of. The Officer with an air of disbelief and disgust tells us to just get home. One trip to the drunk tank averted.

The rest of the night was filled with ranting about the events to every Cop we saw on the way home and a solemn vow to never return to Berkeley's frats: land of 2 inch dicks and egos bigger than Kanye West.

Thanks for sitting through it. I feel about 5 years older just writing this and will probably find 3 new gray hairs on my head.

Liv Tyler, Some Sushi, And A Goddamn Goldfish

Games are fucking awesome, the best are the ones that are in no way athletic or hugely ego-affectingly competitive. Lacking any real hobbies and having a desire to learn more about people, I like to ask a series of scenario questions. The questions can be simple or complex, but a standard set would be:

"If you were to be stuck in an elevator for 72 hours and there could only be one other person in there with you, who would it be? They can be someone who you know, have never met, famous, fucking dead, whatever. You have one animal and one meal, what would they be?"

The question can be altered to a road trip from one side of America to the other, incorporate more people, throw in a drug everyone is on for the duration, put one person you must have sex with during it, whatever.

Cab drivers never really like my quizzing, but last night one forty-year-old from Brooklyn didn't even think twice. Driving like a maniac to drop us off so he could take another meth-hit, without hesitation he blurted out, quite confident in his answers:

"I'd want that Liv Tyler to be there. For food? Probably some sushi."

Bold move, definately respectable. She a babe, but not an unimaginative Pamela Andersen, sort of straight guy answer. The sushi isn't very sustaining for 72 hours but if the man wants a god-damn spicy tuna roll, THAT'S WHAT HE'LL GET. When I ask what animal he'd want to be there, he loses interest and respect for the game, saying,

"Whatever, man. A goldfish or something."

He doesn't care about the animal, seeing that he has 72 hours to convince Liv Tyler to atleast give him a handjob. He then explains the beauty of Liv Tyler and I agree, telling him that his answer is one of the more respectable ones I've heard. Remembering my last cabby that refused to even answer the question and after 25 blocks of drunken pursuing on my behalf, he said he would want his best friend, Minh, there with him.

Whoa whoa whoa, this is just hypothetical Mr. Yellowcab, but come on! Way to dream fucking big! Way to get buckwild! Standard answers tell us a few things: you're probably bad in bed, you're not who your kids look up to, and you've never forgotten to return your DVDs on time at Blockbuster. (And yes, you are still loyal to Blockbuster.)

There is nothing more annoying than having a preoccupied lack of interest or worse, an unwilling imagination.

Textual Seductions

Because we spend so much time on our phones. Because sadly we drink to gain the courage to text and our friends don't take away our phones when they really should. Because "BBM" is the biggest thing since sliced bread. SuckitbySina is open to regrettable conversations and relationship ruining rants. Send your cringe inducing best to: sghahreman@usfca.edu

EvatheDiva gives us her conversation with a guy she had dinner with once and won't be calling back until the rest of the male species is eradicated, leaving her no other options.

Loser: By the way, I heard your ex was jealous.

Eva: Hahaha yea he was very jealous and mad at Sherm for hooking me up.

Loser: Hahaha. So would you consider us "hooked up."

Eva: Well no I was meaning like introducing us.

Loser: Hah. Well hopefully I can change that :)

Loser: Can I ask you something...

Eva: Ya?

Loser: Are you interested?

Eva: Am I interested in what?

Loser: Me?

Eva: Well I don't even know you so I can't answer that question. I'm not attracted to someone unless I know them and have that level of intimacy.

Loser: So you're not attracted to me? I'm just trying to get an idea of what you're all about.

Eva: I think things got a little too crazy a little too fast between us. I enjoy your company as a friend and I wanna keep in touch.

Loser: Hmm. Not sure what that means...

[Wait, in what way was that not clear? Fucking idiot.]

...I'll make it clear. I like you. I'd like to see where things go.

Eva: I don't want to lead you on. I just am not in a place in my life right now to be intimate. I would make it easier for me if we could agree to remain friends.

Loser: Look, I know you're into that guy in Hawaii. But gimme another shot. I won't disappoint.

Eva: Wow that was really insensitive and not very understanding.

Loser: I actually wrote that before you wrote the other. I'm sorry. Whatever you want, sweetie. We ARE friends. And just know that I dig you. That's all.

Loser: Life is long, time is everything. [How much do I owe you for that fucking token of wisdom. Lifetime movie much?]

You could bail a brotha out?

I woke up with what looked like two phone numbers on my arm this past Sunday. No, I wasn't being a pimp up in VIP. After some minor investigation I found out that apparently I was planning on doing something which may have ended up with me and a few loyal friends to up in jail. In my state I figured out that these were the two friends who I would call if I needed to be bailed out. In case I did try to use them, it wouldn't have helped considering you're only allowed to call local numbers from jail. (A friend had to be bailed out recently and yes the story is in the works.)

Don't worry: there would have been no high speed chases or 5-hour stand offs. It was a plan to break into the impound lot and rescue a friends impounded scooter. Very badass, very Scareface. We didn't end up having the key to the scooter so it was a lost cause, but if we do eventually tap into our Grand Theft Auto selves, I'll probably be gone for a few days. Stop crossing your fingers in hopes of reading the story.

WHO DONE IT?? LITERALLY

[Well if at one point in the night your holding onto a pole on the sidewalk, while sitting on your friends head, as she is attempting to pray: the following story makes more sense.]

Sometimes shit is just WAY too literal. So many common day expressions or saying should not under ANY circumstance become a reality. Like "imma bust a cap in yo ass!" If that was to ever literally play out, I'm getting the FUCK OUT OF THERE. Or "kill two birds with one stone." I don't need none of that. Let's keep it figurative:

So when you say "I just threw up in my mouth a little bit," what you want it to mean is something around you is hugely disgusting or offensive to you. A friend found out the hard way what you don't want it to mean: Paulina drank too much last night and while driving around in his roommates BALLER ride the next morning, he literally threw up in his mouth a little and held it in with both hands covering his mouth, until she could pull over. Then he could finally get out and release his tequila and yesterday's burrito steaming stew, all over the sidewalk. Ugh fucking lovely.