The day started like any other normal day.
1. Waking up way too early and severely hungover from the night before
2. Noticing the cigarette burns acquired from my friends the night before
3. And finally, trying to put on my favorite pants that I happened to have pissed all over.
But nothing could stop me from missing this day because the lord himself almost named this holiday St. Dutch Day. I begin to put on my green soccer jersey, followed by obnoxious green beads, light up stickers, and shamrock Oakleys (Yes people, I am a fucking G and have shamrock Oakleys). The ghost, being the mind reader that he is, picked me up a bacon egg and cheese sandwich and a bagel with shmear. The purpose of filling up very early is to make sure you have enough man-fuel to possibly get you through a 16 hour day of binge drinking. All man-fueled up = Time for the festivities.
I walk into the quad and just see a slew of partially drunk and still completely hungover jibroni's (my friends). Now I'm talking 30 deep. Chicks and Dicks. The whole fucking picnic basket ladies and gents. You had your tall, short, fat, skinny, ginger, hot, and swamp-donkey friends all waiting for some hint of direction as to where to go. And I left out the fact that it's about 10 a.m. at this point. Once the crew of ass-holes is rallied up, we head up to the bus stop.
1. My friends are all country bumpkins and have never taken MassTransit in their life.
2. Nobody has a MetroCard except for me.
3. My friends are dick heads.
4. They don't even have quarters to give the bus driver.
By some miracle, this bus driver let 25-35 dip-shits on the bus for a combined price of probably $6.42. Now this guy was a saint. The only thing was that he wanted us to sit in the back, away from the paying customers. Bus is moving now and I got a group of probably three 16-17 year old girls that cut school, and got some old creepy guy to buy them beer. BOOM Target. These chicks have to get fucked with. I begin to ramble about how my friend drives an ice-cream truck covered in skulls. But while I'm doing this, I have my shirt up to my nipples and I'm digging my finger in my belly-button, as if to find "Some Lucky Charms." Needless to say, they exit at the next stop. Bus is continuing to take us to the train station and by now, everyone on the bus knows that my friend drives an ice-cream truck covered in skulls. We get off the bus at the train station faster then when you go to the bathroom after mixing street meat with red bull vodkas. But now we are minus 2 love-birds because they forgot to get off.
Train Ride = The Beginning of The End
1. Half of us hop the turn-style like in The Warriors. Except we didn't have bandanas and cool vests
2. Its hot as fuck on the train, Therefore my fly is open to keep my homeostasis on point
3. Pockets are full of beer and cigarettes, so I put a beer in my open fly
4. Everyone on the train now knows that my friend drives an ice-cream truck covered in skulls
5. Fact: It is illegal to smoke cigarettes on a subway car
Train arrives where we need to be. Now there's a wild pack of hot sweaty slam-pigs leaving the train. Were a little drunk right now and insist on hopping the turn-style even when exiting the subway. When we emerge from the station, I felt as if the subway shit me out into a sea of green that just smelt like vomit and old hot dogs. I was in paradise. Fuck Spring Break, there were enough underage smoke-shows to last me a lifetime. We were confused as to where to walk, so we just creepily follow a group of hot chicks that were stumbling down a street chugging water bottles full of the devils piss. WHO THE FUCK DRINKS VODKA ON ST. PATTY'S DAY. Whatever, their already dead to me at this point.
We stumble upon the parade and there's a barricade and a cop saying "Do Not Enter, Exit Only." My response as I enter the barricade, "I'm a cop, don't worry, i just forgot my beer over there." And the dumb bitch bought it. I watch the parade for about 14 seconds and realize its the same shit as every year. I walk back over to my buddies and there's a guy holding up a street sign.
My Jewish buddy didn't seem to take offense to the sign so I started taking pictures with the guy. But every time before a picture was snapped, I would jam my thumb in the guys ass and move to the other side. He was obviously shit-faced so this seemed like an entertaining game until he hit me in the dome with his sign. He didn't know that my head is harder then the devil's dick, so his sign had to suffer for it.
Now the motley crew heads into a bar/restaurant because we've been trying to take shits for the last two hours. I enter the bathroom first and drop a heaping dump that would even impress Simon Cowell. This thing looked like that guys hand from Mortal Combat. All you fucking losers know what I'm talking about. Just like any other epic dump, I snap a pic of it on my phone. But what I didn't snap a pic of was The Ghost pissing in the urinal with his pants around his ankles. Fucking EPIC.
Check in tomorrow for Part 2 of the story as there will probably be more then 2 parts of this story. The whole day is just too epic to leave out any details. Also, being that I was in the state of "Inanimate Objects are Talking to Me" Drunk, I have to clarify some more things with other sources.
Stay Classy CockSuckers
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