If you know me at all, you know that I don�t sleep much when I�m drinking, so a 9 am wakeup was not that out of the question on most nights. But this was Pearl fucking Harbor, I tend to get up for this one, and this year was no different.
Luckily for me, there were sober drivers involved with this party. I walked a few blocks to the pickup spot�
�in my shorts�
�in December. I was shivering in the van on the ride to the spot. I arrived, was handed my Pearl Harbor shirt, and rushed the bar. I was promptly handed a Killians, and what was being called �The Slush.� As is tradition at Pearl Harbor, there is a hefty supply of jungle juice to go around; the Slush was nothing more than the hard alcohol for the juice with a little fruit punch mix, no water.
Talk about delicious.
And intoxicating, I could tell that I was in for a long, long night. I sat with the Beer Pong crew, and we played a few games of drinking hockey to get the night started off right. I was double fisting the whole time, simultaneously drinking beer and the juice (the jungle juice, not O.J. Simpson)
The three bands that played the spot were rocking some classic tunes that were motivating the shit out of me. The concept of Senior Design completely left my mind and was replaced with �Wang Chung.�
Everybody was indeed in the Wang Chung mood that night. I lobbied hard to get a game of turbo cups started, but only three other people would play. So a two-on-two challenge was made, and the drinking was fast, furious, and sloppy as hell.
I spent a lot of my time outside, because the hall was hotter than Hero Wings at Show-Me�s. After returning inside from pissing on an LP tank outside, I saw something that can only be described as a miracle.
A hot chick at Rolla.
I fought my way to her tight six, and was watching her tight ass on her way to the bar. I was following her closely through the dance floor, speaking sweet nothings to her rump along the way. My roommates saw this, and started laughing their asses off. I stopped and chatted with them about the girl, when I was hit with a sudden urge for a beer bong.
After a few beer bongs, the night gets a bit hazy.
I remember getting a ride home from a girl, but it was not the dance floor goddess that I was chasing earlier.
I hit the sack at an ungodly time, and slept like a baby that had been shot with horse tranquilizers.
I awoke the next day, looked over at my clock, and saw that it was 9:15 am. And, like the opening scene in Billy Madison I thought to myself, �There was something important I was supposed to do today, I had so many drinks I can�t remember.�
Then it hit me, �NO FUCKING WAY.�
I jumped up, through on my suit, and hightailed it to the building where we were giving our presentation. I made it in time, but I missed the meeting. I was still drunk from the night before, and I was cracking jokes with my team members. One of my team members was wearing a suit that I can only describe as �pimp� Old Kevin looked like he should be on the Kings of Comedy tour. Oh, and by the way, Kev won a fucking money reward for his presentation with another group.
He's been pimpin' been since been pimpin' been since been pimpin'! (A quote from the movie How High, if you didn't know, but you should)
Our team was group one, and we were going first. I was pumped about that, though. I was hoping to get the presentation done before the hangover kicked in. I felt confident standing at the podium with my crew, I knew that Ben, Kevin, Mike and I were going to slate this fucker.
As we described our removable handle saw design to the other groups, UMR department chairmen, and representatives from Bosch, I was starting to think that I was going to make it.
When Ben hit the stage, it was over, the kid absolutely smoked his part of the presentation, he was interrupted multiple times by audience members, and handled it like a pro. I would later tell Ben, �Hey man, forget Pujols, you�re the MVP, bro.�
As far as my part of the presentation goes, I pretty much nailed the shit out of it. I actually did better than I would have done stone cold sober. I had so much other shit do deal with that I had no time to be nervous. All I had to do was talk about how we simulated the drop tests for our design.
I was still relieved to be off of the stage, though, and as the other two groups presented, the hangover was brewing, and it was pissed off at me.
I chugged three free Mountain Dews during the presentations, which is not the best thing to do on a hangover. I was soon in the red, and I needed to vomit.
I ducked out at the end of the third group�s presentation, went to the bathroom of the Civil Engineering building (where the presentations were being held) chucked my tie over my shoulder, and barfed twice.
I knew that there was a second half of presentations that were going on, and that there was a complimentary halftime lunch being served. I would have nothing to do with a lunch, though; I was hungover, pissed, and wearing a suit. Something had to give.
I ran back to the house, and pulled a Mr. Rogers Neighborhood operation. I switched from my suit to my Cardinals jersey and gym shorts, threw up three more times, and returned for the second half of presentations.
I showed up to a mixed reaction of confusion and hilarity. I had made it back in time for the halftime meal, and my attire was the talk of the town. After regaling some people of the tale, the Mechanical Engineering Department Head overheard my situation and said, �Maybe we should deduct some points for that.� I said, �For what?� He just laughed and said, �Just kidding.�
I walked by a table with some of the company representatives and one of them said, �Hey, how about them White Sox?�
I said, �Touchy subject man, I can�t believe they won the Series this year.�
A girl asked me, �Hey, where�s you�re nice outfit?�
I said, �This IS my nice outfit, Go Cards!�
I was feeling fantastic after my vomits, and I ready for the next set of presentations. I asked questions in each one, but the final presentation was the best. The group had altered a picture of Joe Miner, the UMR mascot, by putting their saw in his hands. When the Q and A session started, I raised my hand and asked the following question:
�Yes, I am curious as to which software program you used to put a saw in Joe Miner�s hands, it looks FANTASTIC.�
The guy replied, �Ha ha, we used Paint.�
I said, �You didn�t use Photoshop?�
He said, �No, are there any more RELEVANT questions?�
Earlier, I was invited to a keg party at the home of my homey Mike Bradley. I think Bradley is the only person in history to mention King Cobra Malt Liquor in an engineering presentation. Hell, I seen it, I was in his group.
After a much needed nap, I was set to go to the party and drink the night away. I drove to the party and parked my car at a nearby church. I showed up, and was greeted by Mike, �Look at this drunk motherfucker, dude, that was awesome today.� We had a good laugh at the day�s events, and I was immediately introduced to Shannon. Right off the bat I liked Shannon, not only because she was a cute brunnette with a round be-hind, but also the fact that she was double-fisting drinks at 8 pm.
Then I saw the guy who I had quizzed during the final Senior Design Presentation of the day, he said, "Hey man, I didn't mean to sound like a dick after you're question."
I said, "Dude, that was guld-dern hilarious."
He said, "Yeah, that was pretty damn funny."
I didn�t know many people at the party, but among those that I knew included Nathan Carlson, who I�ve known since my first semester at Rolla.
I asked Carlson if we could play some drinking games. He replied, "Hell yeah," and a girls vs. guys turbo cups then plugged me into the social pipeline of the party.
The guys finished 7 and 1, with the guys retiring after their first loss.
After the games, I was shocked to see my fellow Senior Design Team 1 members Kevin and Mike in the house. We raised a toast to Ben, who carried the team, and started to kick it. Mike and I were drinking beer, Kev was taking the route of Rum and Coke. With a Pimp-Suit like Kevin�s, you can�t be caught dead drinking anything without class and sophistication.
Mike wanted to check out the party next door, where he had lived for a while. We infiltrated the basement to see a party as rocking as the one we had just come from. We went upstairs to find a pool table.
After getting my ass kicked in pool by Mike, we returned to the original party to see people beer-bonging. I naturally jumped into line for one. I never got to enjoy it though, as one guy decided to vomit all over the damn floor.
Needless to say, Mike was PISSED!!!!!
He said, �Where the FUCK is this guy at?�
I said, �I think he went this way.�
We stormed the back door, and I held it open for Mikey, hoping to see him fustigate the poor fool.
Cooler heads prevailed, and nobody got their ass kicked that night. However, Bradley did get some revenge.
At another point in the evening, somebody told Mike that a couple was having sex in his room. He said, �No fucking way.� He ran up the stairs, and I tailed him again, hoping to see another ass-kicking, and hopefully, a titty. Again, nothing happened, the pair had apparently moved their fornication to the bathroom.
After watching a few games of beerpong, I ran into Lucas, a fellow Jarvo-Jesus Apostle from the Halloween Party �05.
I told him where the party was, and him and his crew showed up just in time for the house to close out the party.
From the party, I walked to a local pub named �The Grotto.� I love the Grotto, the bar�s got plenty of 311 on the jukebox, some pool tables, and a lot of my Rolla crew drinks there. The only thing the bar is missing (besides a stripper pole) is Wild Turkey AND Jack Daniels. Let�s just say I�ve had more than my fair share of Jim Beam at the establishment.
I met up with Josh Boyce, who was at the Swimmer house during the Infamous St. Pat�s of 2005 where I fell down the stairs with a bottle of Beam in my hand. He said, �Senor Bloodyhands, what�s up man?�
I said, �Nothin much man, just drinking and walking around.� I told him the story of my illustrious Senior Design Presentation, and it got a laugh out of Boyce.
Boyce and I then started playing pool. And apparently, neither one of us is that good. After about an hour, we decided to hand over the rest of the game to two other guys. My pony finally won the damn game, but Boyce and I were too boozed up to care. At one point, I was scoping out a hot waitress that works at the Grotto, Boyce said, �Dude, there�s something about a chick that serves beer for a living��
I said, �I concur completely, I�ve had a crush on that girl for a while now.�
About closing time, I noticed another girl that had been in my Machine Design group a few semesters earlier. Boyce said that he liked that girl too, and I agreed, but I couldn�t remember her name. After last call, we were in the parking lot, when it hit me, I looked over, and saw the chick walking towards her car, and I said, �Hey Allison, what�s up?�
She said, �Dustin Doerr, how are you?�
I said, �I�m bummed, everything is closing down.�
Boyce told us of a party that he was going to, so we all piled into Allison�s car, and headed for a beerpong party. When we arrived at the party, I saw a lot of people I knew, including Witte, who had told me to stop by this exact party hours ago, but I got lost and went to the Grotto. Witte and I then challenged Boyce and Allison to a game of beerpong.
And, just as I had planned, we lost. I love losing at beerpong because you get to drink all of the other team�s drinks. Whenever I lose, I say, �And to the loser go the spoils.�
I noticed that my little buddy Ben from 4 North was wasted at this time, and his friend told me that he had been drinking Vodka, and he was getting violent, I doubted him.
If you�ve seen the Rick James skit from Chappelle�s Show, you�ll appreciate this next part.
I walk in the kitchen, and when Ben sees me he says, �DOUBLE D!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS UP MAN?!?!?!?�
The cheeky bastard then slaps me right across the face.
I laughed that one off, and another slap 30 minutes later. When the kid slapped me again, I grabbed him by the throat and chucked him onto a coach. I didn�t want to hurt the little guy, but I have a three strikes rule with that crap. I decided to head for home�
� on foot.
I walked over a mile to my house at 3 am, stopping at a bank to salute 3:11 am.
I made it back to the house, kicked open the door and yelled:
SENIORS!!!!!!
CLASS OF '05 WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?