It's Good to Be Back
Before I get into this blog thing again…I'd like to apologize to some of you who have emailed/IMed me in the last few weeks asking me why they haven't seen me on gorillamask. Well, first, GM hasn't updated…and until they do, I'm not writing for them, I assume. As far as any other writing…well, I've been lazy, readers. I've been reallll lazy. But hey, I'm a Southerner…and that's what we Southerners do. We lounge around, wait for the welfare check to roll in and beat our wives in the meantime. Yep. It's not too bad of an existence… with the exception of my existence being so closely huddled together with my senior year of college. This means Shakespeare. This means Technical Writing. This means…getting drunk as often as is humanly possible.
Which brings me to my next point:
I'm only TWENTY YEARS OLD, goddamnit. I shouldn't be graduating college yet. I need at least ONE YEAR of debauchery and….well I've had three of those already… But at least one year that I'm not trying to hide from cops.
So, whatever, I'm through with the bitching.
The Lady's Trim, my new blog, will consist of mainly gross/dark humor poetry and prose…a few observations…and maybe, JUST MAYBE, a few self-whoring promotions for my book….if I ever completely finish that fucking thing.
So….this week…
WVU FOOTBALL
How Crazy Rednecks Spend Saturday
As many of you heterosexual males SHOULD know, my school (West Virginia University) is ranked #4 in the country in football. Now, we as rednecks love us some football, and even when WVU's football team was lucky enough to just compete with shitty teams (teams like MARYLAND, MARSHALL, AND EASTERN WASHINGTON) we still burned an average of 200 couches a football season. But now that we're in contention for a National Championship, well things are a helluva lot better in ol' Morgantown, West Virginia.
Saturdays go like this:
Midnight: “Country Roads” is played, every takes five shots. Some dumbass in the bar wearing the opposing team's colors gets his ass beat; we all laugh.
1 AM: Somebody says “Fuck PITT!”and everybody chugs a beer while kicking the corpse of the dumbass. Some people piss on him.
2 AM: Beer bong tables begin to make their way from porches to yards, from yards to streets, from streets to the Monongahela River. Water cups are renewed and doors are removed to be used as substitutes.
3 AM: We pair off to fuck.
4 AM: We all meet on the porch for more beer bongs, shotguns, ice cube tray races.
5 AM: We pass out, usually with a Freshman whore naked somewhere near.
7 AM: We dream of sugar plum fairies and Steve Slaton touchdowns.
8 AM: Wakie, Wakie! We shower, brush dem teeth, and remove the Sharpie from our faces with rubbing alcohol and cotton swabs.
9 AM: We dress in blue and gold, grab our keys and start pre-gaming with moonshine and Natty Light. Some dumbass named Tyler or Brad gets alcohol poisoning, two friends take him to the hospital, wish him good luck on a post-it note, and return to catch up.
10 AM: A moment of silence for Brad's death is had, then beer bong starts up again; though, this time, it's on the side of an RV in a parking lot.
11 AM: Time to start walking to the game. As we do this, everybody starts yelling shit at each other. It doesn't matter what. “We landed on the moon!” is a perfectly acceptable shout when passing other WVU fans. They'll acknowledge you with raised beers and the first part of the obligatory chant “Let's GOOOOO.” We respond “MOUNTAINEEEEEEEEEERSS!”
12 PM: GAME TIME. We sneak flasks, tubes, any sort of contraption that is able to feed our buzz. Usually, these are confiscated…but hell, by now everybody's so fucking drunk it doesn't matter.
1 PM: Now that we're winning by a lot, most people start filtering out. We, the good fans, stay until halftime…when we can return to the parking lot and chug a fifth of whiskey.
2 PM: Halftime. Somebody remembers to bring a football and a grotesque game of two-hand-touch is played. One hand touch is allowed for those with a bottle of beer in hand. We steal beer from old people tailgating.
3 PM: We start the debating session. Will Slaton get the Heisman? Is Pat White that good of a QB? What will happen if USC loses? A few fights also spark up; but, these are quelled by beer.
4 PM: Game over. We run to the store, pick up another case or two and enough cigarettes to last the rest of the night. Most of us buy condoms…but that's just because most are very hopeful.
5 PM: Beer Pong: Round 3. Usually the single player tournament idea pops up. Nick Gaudio wins. Somebody orders a pizza that everybody else hates. He is removed from the Beer Pong list for Conspiracy to Horde Pizza.
6 PM: Nap time. Usually in the back of a pick-up truck or in the grass outside the stadium.
10 PM: We all get changed, meet at a house and start drinking Old Crow. Some throw up, some just shit their pants…either way, we've got places to go and if you can't keep up, this is where you stop off.
11 PM: Bar time. After the victory, girls are loose, guys are brave. Everybody's drunk and friendly. Enemies becomes friends. The Catholic Church accepts gays. Shots are tossed around like Asian girls on the sex trade. We sing. We dance. We make love and thennnn…it's Sunday. NFL football day.
Let's get drunk again, we say. And we do.
And we do.
And….we do.
—–
Ah Morgantown.
Ah PIC.
It's good to be home.