Sunday, July 25, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Bonfire Night: The Intro
November 10th, 2009:
The weather was surprisingly warm that day. To celebrate, about 15 of my closest college friends decided to skip our classes and start drinking a little early. We cracked open brews around 5:30pm, toasting to the good weather, and to what we knew would be a good night.
Now, normally, I am not a wine drinker. But earlier that day, I decided that I wanted to be a part of an elitist club called Screaming Zinfidelities, where I'd drink white Zinfandel and critique Dashboard Confessional. No one was game to listen to Dashboard, so I decided to drink the bottle of wine anyway.
Around 8pm, the sun had fallen and some of the boys who had been tossing disc out in the quad came rushing into the apartment where we had all gathered. The following is a conversation that could only make sense after three solid hours of heavy drinking.
Group of Boys: "WE'RE HAVING A FUCKINNNN BONFIREEE!!!!"
Group of Girls: "Wait, what?! Where! That doesn't sound like a good idea!"
Boys: "IN THE FUCKINN WOODS!!! WHO CAN DRIVE, WE NEED MORE BEER!!!!"
Girls: "Okay, the woods? Alright... well that sounds legit. We're down!"
Three boys take off with the only sober person to load themselves into a minivan and make a beer run. I look down at my bottle of wine, and realize that it's empty. As some of my friends start to head out the door, I realize I'm barefoot (a common occurrence, no matter what the weather) and think that I probably need shoes. Okay... who's apartment am I in? Oh right, Bretts.
"Brett, can I borrow your flip flops?! We're going to the woods!"
"Okay Whit, but DON'T lose them. I love those shoes."
"Deal!"
I took two shots and was out the door.
I met up with my large posse of bonfire-going friends and we started walking across campus. After what felt like forever, we started walking through a gravel parking lot where our friends hop out of a minivan with 3 30 racks. I grab one from Dave and start following a trail that most of the boys seem to be familiar with.
Suddenly, that bottle of wine, shots, and beers that I've consumed start to catch up with me. I stumble on the rocky pavement, blaming it on the unfamiliar path, and giant flip flops. Dave, my best friend, smiles at me, takes the 30 rack out of my hand, and puts his arm around my waist, in some attempt to stable the two of us.
This is my last memory of Bonfire Night.
I am only aware of the following events by being filled in from other people, spectators, co-workers, or friends.
My next memory is waking up in absolute darkness, bleeding, and smelling like smoke.
To be continued.
The weather was surprisingly warm that day. To celebrate, about 15 of my closest college friends decided to skip our classes and start drinking a little early. We cracked open brews around 5:30pm, toasting to the good weather, and to what we knew would be a good night.
Now, normally, I am not a wine drinker. But earlier that day, I decided that I wanted to be a part of an elitist club called Screaming Zinfidelities, where I'd drink white Zinfandel and critique Dashboard Confessional. No one was game to listen to Dashboard, so I decided to drink the bottle of wine anyway.
Around 8pm, the sun had fallen and some of the boys who had been tossing disc out in the quad came rushing into the apartment where we had all gathered. The following is a conversation that could only make sense after three solid hours of heavy drinking.
Group of Boys: "WE'RE HAVING A FUCKINNNN BONFIREEE!!!!"
Group of Girls: "Wait, what?! Where! That doesn't sound like a good idea!"
Boys: "IN THE FUCKINN WOODS!!! WHO CAN DRIVE, WE NEED MORE BEER!!!!"
Girls: "Okay, the woods? Alright... well that sounds legit. We're down!"
Three boys take off with the only sober person to load themselves into a minivan and make a beer run. I look down at my bottle of wine, and realize that it's empty. As some of my friends start to head out the door, I realize I'm barefoot (a common occurrence, no matter what the weather) and think that I probably need shoes. Okay... who's apartment am I in? Oh right, Bretts.
"Brett, can I borrow your flip flops?! We're going to the woods!"
"Okay Whit, but DON'T lose them. I love those shoes."
"Deal!"
I took two shots and was out the door.
I met up with my large posse of bonfire-going friends and we started walking across campus. After what felt like forever, we started walking through a gravel parking lot where our friends hop out of a minivan with 3 30 racks. I grab one from Dave and start following a trail that most of the boys seem to be familiar with.
Suddenly, that bottle of wine, shots, and beers that I've consumed start to catch up with me. I stumble on the rocky pavement, blaming it on the unfamiliar path, and giant flip flops. Dave, my best friend, smiles at me, takes the 30 rack out of my hand, and puts his arm around my waist, in some attempt to stable the two of us.
This is my last memory of Bonfire Night.
I am only aware of the following events by being filled in from other people, spectators, co-workers, or friends.
My next memory is waking up in absolute darkness, bleeding, and smelling like smoke.
To be continued.
Friday, July 9, 2010
FUCK YEAH HORSES
Being that this video currently only has a little over 50 views, it is my challenge to every reader of this site to bring OPERATION: FUCK YEAH HORSES to life by watching this video 4 times a day, attaching it to emails, whatever.
Monday, July 5, 2010
ringgggggggggggggg ringgggggggggggg ringggggggggggggggg
I roll over and glare at my cell phone. I stare at the clock... 8:24pm. Alright fine. I guess nap time is over.
"Shawn, what. do. you. want."
I'm always such a lady when I get woken up.
"Whitney, GET. UP. There are fireworks tonight! What, are you still hung over?! We have THINGS to do."
I love Shawn. I really do. But normally he is not nearly this enthusiastic about life. I guess it's sort of my fault. This summer we've gotten closer than ever, since my lesbian of a best friend isn't coming home from Vermont. Sean's become my right hand man. And I guess my enthusiasm for life rubbed off on him... but I mean, come on, I never meant it to work this well.
"Alright fine, what's the plan. Hit me with your best shot."
"Welllll, we could take the train to point pleasant. Pull a high school. Ehhhh?????"
"I love it. When do we leave?"
"30 minutes. Dig?"
"Dig. See you then."
I jump out of bed and head right towards the shower. I turn the water on to ice cold to try and get myself out of my snorlax state. As I stand shivering under the icy water, I try to remember what point pleasant high school trips were like. I eventually start to realize that all of my memories are foggy, and know why. We would get super big gulps from 7/11, fill them half with soda, and then fill the rest with whatever liquor we'd managed to shave off of our parents stash that week. We'd be practically pissing our pants by the time we got to the boardwalk, make fun of the girls taking myspace picture in the public restrooms, and then would hurricane through tourists, the fun house, and maybe roll around in the sand for a while, laughing about how we should do this every night. I loved high school.
I hop out of the shower, into some clothes, and into my car. I head straight for 7/11 and fill a SUPER big gulp up with cherry coke. The man at the counter winks at me before ringing me up.
As I roll back into my driveway I check my texts. One from Shawn.
"Erin can't make the train tonight and she really wanted to go. I don't wanna go without her, so let's just go later this week. I'm still coming over."
Fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do with this super big gulp?!
Shawn rolls up in my driveway and we decide that we don't want to have to pretend to like everyone we graduated with at the Asbury Fireworks, and instead, opt to watch them on top of the highest elevation point in my town...The hill behind Wegman's. We call a couple of our other friends, and drive to our destination, super big gulp in tow.
We park on the street and observe the massive hill we need to scale. It's a huge rocky path, filled with potholes, weeds, and probably big scary bugs. It's dark and we can't see anything. We slowly make our way up the hill, cautiously making sure not to spill our precious cargo...aka... the super big gulp. Still not filled with booze. just cherry coke.
We get to the top of the hill, the woods start to clear, and the ground flattens out.
"Oh my god," Shawn whispers.
"What?" Then I see it too. The super big gulp falls out of my hand and rolls down the hillside.
Shawn and I are staring at a 40ish couple.
Pretty much naked.
On top of a White. Jeep. Cherokee.
We stand frozen, not knowing what to do. We assumed no one else would be up here, but I guess so did Mr. and Mrs. Let's Have Sex in Public to Save Our Marriage.
The Mrs. looks over and makes eye contact with me, and starts laughing hysterically while clothing herself. Mr. looks over and seems a little more embarrassed.
"Lovely night, isn't it?" he awkwardly smiles as he puts his shirt on.
"Gorgeous," I reply back, walking past them.
Shawn is still gawking. He finally catches up to me and we sit in the dirt and watch five different sets of fireworks going off at once.
He eventually breaks the silence, awkwardly trying to stifle the laughter that we both desperately want to get out.
"Some fireworks, eh?"
"Dude, if you don't love fireworks, you don't love America."
I roll over and glare at my cell phone. I stare at the clock... 8:24pm. Alright fine. I guess nap time is over.
"Shawn, what. do. you. want."
I'm always such a lady when I get woken up.
"Whitney, GET. UP. There are fireworks tonight! What, are you still hung over?! We have THINGS to do."
I love Shawn. I really do. But normally he is not nearly this enthusiastic about life. I guess it's sort of my fault. This summer we've gotten closer than ever, since my lesbian of a best friend isn't coming home from Vermont. Sean's become my right hand man. And I guess my enthusiasm for life rubbed off on him... but I mean, come on, I never meant it to work this well.
"Alright fine, what's the plan. Hit me with your best shot."
"Welllll, we could take the train to point pleasant. Pull a high school. Ehhhh?????"
"I love it. When do we leave?"
"30 minutes. Dig?"
"Dig. See you then."
I jump out of bed and head right towards the shower. I turn the water on to ice cold to try and get myself out of my snorlax state. As I stand shivering under the icy water, I try to remember what point pleasant high school trips were like. I eventually start to realize that all of my memories are foggy, and know why. We would get super big gulps from 7/11, fill them half with soda, and then fill the rest with whatever liquor we'd managed to shave off of our parents stash that week. We'd be practically pissing our pants by the time we got to the boardwalk, make fun of the girls taking myspace picture in the public restrooms, and then would hurricane through tourists, the fun house, and maybe roll around in the sand for a while, laughing about how we should do this every night. I loved high school.
I hop out of the shower, into some clothes, and into my car. I head straight for 7/11 and fill a SUPER big gulp up with cherry coke. The man at the counter winks at me before ringing me up.
As I roll back into my driveway I check my texts. One from Shawn.
"Erin can't make the train tonight and she really wanted to go. I don't wanna go without her, so let's just go later this week. I'm still coming over."
Fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do with this super big gulp?!
Shawn rolls up in my driveway and we decide that we don't want to have to pretend to like everyone we graduated with at the Asbury Fireworks, and instead, opt to watch them on top of the highest elevation point in my town...The hill behind Wegman's. We call a couple of our other friends, and drive to our destination, super big gulp in tow.
We park on the street and observe the massive hill we need to scale. It's a huge rocky path, filled with potholes, weeds, and probably big scary bugs. It's dark and we can't see anything. We slowly make our way up the hill, cautiously making sure not to spill our precious cargo...aka... the super big gulp. Still not filled with booze. just cherry coke.
We get to the top of the hill, the woods start to clear, and the ground flattens out.
"Oh my god," Shawn whispers.
"What?" Then I see it too. The super big gulp falls out of my hand and rolls down the hillside.
Shawn and I are staring at a 40ish couple.
Pretty much naked.
On top of a White. Jeep. Cherokee.
We stand frozen, not knowing what to do. We assumed no one else would be up here, but I guess so did Mr. and Mrs. Let's Have Sex in Public to Save Our Marriage.
The Mrs. looks over and makes eye contact with me, and starts laughing hysterically while clothing herself. Mr. looks over and seems a little more embarrassed.
"Lovely night, isn't it?" he awkwardly smiles as he puts his shirt on.
"Gorgeous," I reply back, walking past them.
Shawn is still gawking. He finally catches up to me and we sit in the dirt and watch five different sets of fireworks going off at once.
He eventually breaks the silence, awkwardly trying to stifle the laughter that we both desperately want to get out.
"Some fireworks, eh?"
"Dude, if you don't love fireworks, you don't love America."
Saturday, July 3, 2010
The Worst Recordings Ever Part 3
move over boys.
this flipping exists.
Dude nails the french. Just in case you were wondering.
On to the next one....
If I were you, I'd just forward this to 2:00.
You're welcome.
...I think.
-Whitney
this flipping exists.
Dude nails the french. Just in case you were wondering.
On to the next one....
If I were you, I'd just forward this to 2:00.
You're welcome.
...I think.
-Whitney
Friday, July 2, 2010
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