Where's Waldo?

 "Still that natural born rebel,

Walk up to the club eatin fruity pebbles"

WHO DONE IT?? ONE GIRL, TWO CUPS

About a month back the semester was ending, everyone parting ways for the summer, and an overall sense of one more year of partying and youthful stupidity coming to an end. Believe me, the 5-8 day post-finals partying binge was one of monumetal proportions. Hugging best friends outside of dive bars, as your both sobbing and puking, because you won't see each other for like 3 months. (Well with my friends the same thing happens when someone leaves for a weekend, but we all have isolation issue, so fuck off.)

One of the last nights brought some good material. About 8 of us went out to a karoake bar in the Marina. (Some call the Marina the La Jolla or West Hollywood of San Francisco.) I don't agree, it's really just filled with straight people who LOVE to fucking work out. They order dirty-dirty martinis and Samual Adams beer, only party on the weekends, go out on frozen yogurt dates, dream about yoga positions, rock boot-cut denim like we're still in the 90's, and always make it to brunch on time. Anyway the bar we pounced on was not what we needed that night and after laughing about the guy singing Rascall Flats to his girlfriend for long enough we high-tailed out of there.

On the street we realized we needed two cabs to get to the Castro which was on the other side of town. I spot a white limo parked to the side and say to Elise, "Let's go flash him for a free ride."

We sprint over and the driver gets out. Let me explain to you this driver: truly a beautiful human being. He was a black guy dressed in a pimped out lavender suit, including matching hat and shoes, sprinklings of fake gold jewelry throughout. He quickly told us it would be $4 each and we all hopped in. He explained to us that failing to follow his rules would mean he would cut off our "privileges."

We didn't exactly know what these privileges entailed but we learned soon enough. Stick your head out of the sunroof with a bottle in your hand screaming? NOT ALLOWED. Drink the numerous bottles of bourbon and whiskey that were in the back? NOT ALLOWED. Smoke a cigarette? NOT ALLOWED. Our driver would cut our music off long enough for us all to apologize eight times, tell him we loved him, and kiss him on the cheek. When he stopped at an ATM for us he was standing outside with Daniela watching as "Cindy" leaned into the backseat of the limo. Cindy's got some junk in the trunk and he looked it up and down before saying, "Damn look at that booty." Daniela attempted to veto any ideas in his head by jumping in with, "HEY, that's my girl." With a grin on he replied, "No, that's our girl."

At one point in the ride, I'm sitting in the back of the limo with Isabel and Daniela. I see Elise hand Daniela, who is sitting next to the window a cup full of something. Daniela says, "Beer? Thanks honey." What Elise said next made us all whip our heads around faster than LA folk sprinting to a new Pinkberry story opening. 

"NO DANIELA. THAT'S CINDYS PUKE. SHE JUST THREW UP IN A CUP."

What The Fuck. Are you serious Cindy? A minute ago I look over and she is sneakily tipping the bourbon bottle down her own throat like the baller that she is, the next she's serving up a big ass plate full of NASTY. Daniela tipped the cup out the window, probably spreading steamy throw-up across the side of the limo. Cindy puked again, this time into a champagne flute. Those cups are damn skinny and I have to give her props for not spilling anywhere and taking care of her puking like such a lady. (ha)

The rest of the night was filled with eyes-closed dancing to the sounds of P-P-P-Pokerface. Cindy kept raging long into the night, Isabel acted as the bouncer at this bar called Badlands for a hot minute, and I kissed the bartender for a round of free Patron shots. All in a nights work baby.

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.

WHO DONE IT??

[One night of fun = 6 weeks of hobble-hobble-crutch-time]

Our story begins a few nights before Halloween last year. We decided to get a keg for... well we didn't have an especially good reason, but fuck it, it was Thursday and this is college: KEG TIME. You wouldn't think it, but kegs can sometimes have the same effects as open bars. It would be one thing if it was a huge raging party with people hanging from the banisters and the keg getting tapped at like 10:30. No, we like to keep our keggers more intimate. (If I'm going to put a $90 deposit on my over-drafted debit card, and get a hernia dragging this thing up a flight of stairs: I WANT MY FUCKING MONEYS WORTH.

The night was running as smoothly as a reality show that follows a script: beer pong, keg stands, and drunken wrestling in the living room. Ghetto Superstar, that is whatcho you are... was belted at the top of our lungs at some point and I woke up wearing snake skin pants. (Yes normally a dealbreaker, but it was close enough to Halloween that I got away with it.)

Around two am, three of my girls leave to go on a drunken mission. The rest of the party was not aware that they left, which would explain why we didn't really worry when they didn't return.

At 6 am I get a call telling me that "Tiffany" is in the hospital with a broken ankle. The explanation for this is so good that I couldn't even have made it up if I tried.

Apparently, Tiffany along with "Courtney" and "Rosa" were stumbling through campus. [Side-note: the library at USF has a long river-like fountain that goes along one side of it.] When they pass the library, Courtney sees the fucking fountain and says,

"I'll give anyone who jumps into that fountain, butt-naked, twenty bucks right now."

Let's review: what do we know about drinking heavily and "truth or dare"? BAD NEWS BEARS. Without hesitation, Tiffany rips her clothes off. Remember that this is a pre-Halloween party and Tiffany had on a lace-onesie over a Wonderwoman-esque corset. She runs to the SHALLOW end of the fountain and DIVES THE FUCK IN THERE.

Hitting the water, she starts yelling in pain because without knowing it: she just landed directly on her ankle and BROKEN IT. AH SHIIIIIIT. Altough Tiffany is screaming slightly, Courtney (brilliant idea Courtney, really genius) unmercilessly says, "It doesn't count unless you get your head under."

Not willing to give up, Tiffany sticks her head under and crawls out of the fountain. Important to note that the fountain runs along side the part of the library that is open 24 hours a day and is fully lite. Although it is two in the morning, here at THE "Harvard of the West" there were about 30 people whose studying got interrupted by a drunk naked babe diving into the fountain outside.

So know Tiffany is: WASTED, NAKED, SOAKED FROM HEAD TO TOE, WITH A FUCKING BROKEN ANKLE. Rockbotton? We're not judging. Next they all sit behind a bush until Tiffany can bear the pain no more, they flag down our schools Public Safety car. They struggling to get as much of her clothes on her, while the stupid rent-a-cops drive them to the emergency room.

Tiffany's last memory of the night is being asked what type of pain medicine she needed. To which she viciously replied, "THE HARD SHIT! GIVE IT TO ME NOOOOOW."

For the next six weeks, Tiffany was a regulation badass with a broken ankle, but when her boss and parents asked her how it happened: um let's just say she won't be referring them to this story anytime soon.

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.