April 15th, 2011
By: Alex Broderick
Where do I start this story? There was so much build up, I could have started writing this diary on Monday. I’ll start it Thursday when the trip starts.
It’s Thursday afternoon and its time to get hyphy. The Engineering Expo was going on and so my Thursday and Friday engineering classes had been canceled, suck it business majors. I sat around the T.V. playing NHL 09 with Jesse when I get a call. It was an employer from Rockwell Automation that wanted to have a phone interview. The interview went well, and it was the very last thing I had on my agenda before the little 500. Jesse and I started getting real stoked; we were playing NHL 09 with the music turnt all the way up, and a couple of mixers to start the weekend off right. We sat there discussing what the fuck the little 500 was. I’ve been told it’s a bike race, but what type of bike race? Is it just drunk frat and sorority bros/broettes racing in it? Can anyone race in it? Should I bring my bike? Is it like supposed to be for midgets, as in the little people 500?
We discussed this for some time. We packed up our bags and waited for Jimbo and Davis to come and pick us up. It was around 8:00pm when we got in the car and headed back to Hartland. We stopped at Johnson Creek, but didn’t get anything. We then headed to the Pick ‘n Save in Oconomowoc because we wanted to get food and some booze so we didn’t have to eat out all the time or eat all of Johns food. We sat in the parking lot of the Pick ‘n Save and discussed what needed to get…the essentials.
Jim “We need to get Bombay Saphire.” Obvi… if we are seeing Wiz Khalifa, we definitely need to be Bombay sippin’, big joint rollin.
Davis “We need to get at least two cases of beer.” Good good keep the list rollin.
Me “I think if we each pitched in $20 for booze, that’s $80 for alcohol, that should be good.”
Jesse, “We should also get champagne. And we should get food like bread, PB & J, chips, you know… shit like that.”
Neato gang. Super dooper. Great list. We walk into the Pick ‘n Save, look at all the produce and then just stop. We look at eachother and Davis says, “Wait… Jim, Abomb, and I all are going home. Why don’t we just pantry raid all our houses?”
We look at eachother and immediately agree. To the booze section. We grab a cart and start going down the first booze aisle… first on the agenda, Bombay. Jim grabs the bottle of 1.75 Bombay and all of our hearts drop.
Me “$42 for Bombay…shit that’s a lot of cabagge.”
Jesse, “I hate gin. Does anyone like gin?”
Me, “I fuckin’ hate it as well.”
Ok. No Bombay. Sorry John, but we are college students on a tight budget that consume mass amounts of alcohol…copious amounts. We buy cheap booze, get used to it. We walked through the aisles and grabbed the essentials… bottle of Admiral Nelsons, Bottle of cheap vodka, and a bottle of whiskey. Davis and I each grab a case of Milwaukee’s Best, because….well it’s the best. Jesse grabs four bottles of Andre champagne, one for each of us, because bros love poppin’ champagne, especially when Wiz Khalifa does it, and you Taylored the fuck out. BTW if you don’t know who Wiz Khalifa is, you don’t know what a ‘Taylor Gang’ is, or ever have goon dripped… you should fuckin’ kill yourself, as young khalifa would say.
We look at the cart and decide that we can drink all of this easily. We grab another case of Beast, a box of Franzia, and six Smirnoff Ice’s. Frank and I take up everything to the register and it comes out to $115. Wo.
Lets review our intentions going into the store and what we actually got at the store. We went in there wanting to get food and booze. Right off the bat, we threw food out the door- no, no, no. food? Fuck no, I don’t need food, what I really need is another shot to the dome piece so I can kill more brain cells…ya, that’s the type of people we are. Fuckin awesome people. Our number one thing we wanted to get booze wise was Bombay Saphire… fuck that, too much money. Ok well did we stay within budget? Wrong again, we wanted to spend $80… the total was $115, I guess the only thing you can say in this situation is… ‘Taylor Gang or Die’.
We all go home and we decide that we will leave for Indiana at 5:30am because it would take a net 8 hours to get there, and we would get to Bloomington at 1:30pm. Another one of our ridiculous thought processes. The concert started at 6:00pm and we thought that we needed to have at least 4 hours to get blackout drunk. I only drink at one pace, I will not stop, so 4 hours should put me at something greater than 0.20 BAC. I <3 drinking.
I get back home and at around 12:30am I get a text from Frank, ‘We’re leaving at 4, set an alarm.’ Apparently 4 hours to get wasted is not enough time. Looks like my BAC will be in the mid to high, 0.2’s.
I wake up after about three and a half hours of sleep but I’m so stoked to get to Indiana I am not even tired. We didn’t play anything in the car except Wiz Khalifa. Let’s just say we love Mr. Khalifa. The whole ride we were reading I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell by Tucker Maxx. We were getting in the asshole, cocky mood from reading this.
We end up in Bloomington around 11:30am. We are dedicated. We roll past John’s house and we all thought, “Is that a church? John lives in a church?”. That can’t be…he’s a Jehovah witness. Turns out, the bottom flat is a creepy church, and the top half is for the IU bros. We walk up to John’s house and ring the doorbell but nothing happens. I call John, no answer. Typical. I talked to him 10 minutes before we got there, yet now he won’t answer. Ohhh John. I call him a couple more times but no answer. About 5 minutes later I get a call from Johnny and he tells me he will be right down. We take a Smirnoff Ice and put it right on the doorstep and then hide and wait for John. He comes stumbling out looking all around but has no idea where we are and no idea that there is an Ice right next to him. We let him try to figure it out for a good 30sec but he has no idea. We come out of hiding and greet him. He still has no clue there is an Ice next to him. Fail. They don’t understand the whole concept of Iceing. When we got into the crib we Iced Tyler Gang aka T-miller aka Tyler Miller by waking him up with that sweet nectar in his face. They both just set their rams piss down next to them. They raged hard the night before so they were still hungover as shit. The house was a mess from last night’s rager they had. We put all our shit down and start cleaning the whole house. Jim and I were a tag team duo that did the dishes better than your Mexican cleaning lady. We cleaned everything up and decided that we should get a good base in us before we get tanked. I hadn’t eaten yet today so I was fuckin’ starving. Well, Jesse and I were a little antsy, so we decided to shotgun a Milwaukee’s Best (not light… the potent one with 5.9%abv). It didn’t go down so well… should have waited for breakfast. Fail-tastic.
We walk to a nearby diner and it’s cold and raining out; John said that every day this week has been so nice and today and tomorrow are supposed to be shitty. Great. Oh well, this whole weekend I will have an alcohol blanket the size of a parka, so I shouldn’t feel myself slipping into hypothermia. We get to the café and I ordered I gigantic omelet, which I devoured, and then I ate the rest of John’s pancakes.
We walk back to John’s house and we crack open the cases. We set up the beer pong, beer dice and start pounding in-between. John tells us he needs to turn in a Spanish paper at 2:30pm so I go with him to turn it in and also get other shit like tickets, rolling papers, lighters, weed, you know… essentials.
We come back to the house and we get back to doing what we do best, drinking. We play beer dice for a while and play a game of beer pong, but not everyone could participate, so we started playing flip cup. We’re all in John’s kitchen playing flip cup on a folding table with the famous pizza X (the X is for EXTREME) cups with crushed keystone and beast cans scattered on the table. Within a half hour of playing flip cup, case number 1 is down the drain. Shit. We bust out the next case and finish up playing flipity cup. We then moved onto a team game, don’t remember what it was called, but it was a relay and our team was dominative. John informs us that we just got yelled at by Mother Theresa from downstairs. Sorry for parting, Mama T.
Davis bust out of the fridge, four bottles of Andre (which is champagne for those of you aren’t Taylored). He passes them out to us and we all go out on the balcony. We shake them like Shake Weights© (don’t want legal issues), pop the top…wait, I mean unscrew the top, and start sprayin everywhere. People from below probably were thinking, “wow, what a beaut. Look at that party of people goon drippin’ in a shower of champagne, they must be Taylored as fuck.”
We are. We are slowing down and scattered around the house mingling and whatnot waiting to go to the concert. Davis, T. milla, and I were standing out on the balcony just shootin’ the breeze when T. milla sees Tejas in the road.
Me – “Dude, that’s not Tejas”
T – “That’s fuckin’ Tejas”
Me – “Are you sure?”
Davis – “Lets yell his name on 3….1…2…3 TEJAS!!!”
Oh my lanta. It’s fuckin’ Tejas. He turns around immediately and starts hauling it towards John’s house. We book it inside and not but 10 seconds later, I look up and there in the kitchen is Tejas with the classic peace sign up… “HI GUYS!” His voice sounds like Ed from Ed, Edd, and Eddy. (If you forgot who Ed is on that show, he’s the retarded one) .
Tejas is going around making awkward conversation; good thing baby C wasn’t there, he always tends to get Tejas all riled up, making him spill overflowing rum shots all over his face and shirt (Tejas knows how to rage).
We decide to get a move on to the concert. We take our last shot…I meant shotS and head to the concert. Couldn’t tell you what direction we went in, but I can tell you that the last shots I took really did a number on me. We get to the concert and the line to get in is big and crowded. John and I walk through but when we get past the ticket check there is no other Taylors in sight. John just says, “wait….. hold on” and then walks back into the crowd. I’m sitting there waiting for a couple min, and then out of nowhere John and the rest of the Taylors are back. We go inside and hit the restrooms. As we were in the line we could hear Mac Miller playing, and the sun was setting. We get to our standing spot and watch the last of Mac and watch the sunset. It’s pretty nipply out, so I toss the hood up and toss a few shots from the backwashed Summerfest crumpled up water bottle. Its been in somebody’s crotch, maybe mine (Don’t remember, I could have been carrying in an AK-47 for all I know), so the booze is lukewarm. There was only one way to chase your shots in Indiana… you take your shot and then mutter, “Girls, girls, girls”. We sit and chat while waiting for Wiz to come on stage.
“TAYLOR GANG OR FUCKING KILL YOURSELF!!”….. “TAYLOR GANG OR LICK A BATTERY!”
Wiz comes on and then spark, spark. We were totally in the cut rollin’ doobies up. We pass it around and in the middle of the rotation I hear the sweet sweet beat of Phone Numbers come on. Hooo shit! I frumpin’ love this song! All of the Wisco Taylors start rappin, “TIME IS MONEY SO I WENT AND BOUGHT A ROLEX”, people turn and tell us we are the coolest fucking people they have ever met… well…..not really, but I know a guy and he said we were the coolest people he’d ever met…. no no no, he didn't ... but you can imagine what it'd be like if they did . (Billy Madison…anyone….anyone…)
We pass around the bottle till it’s empty and chuck it in the crowd like drunk barbarians. We smoke the doobie snacks throughout the concert as we rap all of Wiz’s songs. It was such an awesome concert, but all I can tell you about it is that I was staring into bright lights of the stage and rapping the songs along with Wiz.
The concert ends and we head on out; there are people everywhere littering the streets. Jesse, Jim, Davis, and I somehow end up at a nice looking place called Dagwood’s Sandwiches. Looks pretty good. We go inside, the place and no one is in there except us. I didn’t want a sandwich and there was a Qdoba next door, that fuckin dank burrito next door had my drunk ass’s name all over it. They order their sandwiches and I wait with them because Qdoba doesn’t take that long to make. We sit there and wait for 10 min, Jesse is getting ansy. He doing one of those things where you act like you are talking to your friends but you yell what you are saying so others can hear you, especially the dusters that worked at ‘Dagwoods…Home of the shittiest service on this side of the Mississippi’. (They should definitely have that as their slogan) I say fuck these banana trees and get up and head to Qdoba. Before I can get out the door, J-I <3 drunk munching-Frank tells me to hold up. I head back to the table and he pulls out his wallet, fumbles around with his cards, looks up at me with the stupid drunk eyes, and whispers….. “can you get me a burrito as well?” hahaha classic.
I go and get Jesse and my burritos and head back over to Dagwoods where I find the tired out Taylors still waiting for their food. Jesse doesn’t hesitate to start wrestling the burrito with his mouth. About 5 min later they get their food… now frank has 2 meals to take down. We ditched that popsicle stand and headed on back to John’s to consume our much deserving dinner. #college
We get to John’s and there are already people in John’s place. We were looking to eat and pass out, since we’ve been up since the crack of fuckin’ dawn. The problem was, the concert ended very early and most people haven’t been up for 20 straight hours, like us Wisco bros. Jesse plops down on the love seat and doesn’t hesitate to start on his feast. I wonder around, smoke…then eat. I come back into the living room where I see Jesse has decided to use the arm of the couch as a plate. There is rice and beans, chicken and queso sauce all up on the couch. Probably every 15 min someone would come into John’s house and had the same reaction
“Oh my gosh! Is that puke, did he just puke on the couch?!!”
Every single time I would have to explain that my roommate hadn’t puked but that he just likes to go green and not use plates; he’s very resourceful, which is why he used said furniture as his feasting grounds. After about an hour, there were people everywhere in John’s place, and Jesse and Kevin were passed out in the living room. I really wanted to go to bed as well but there was literally nowhere to sleep, John’s room was full of people and he wanted to sleep in there with febes later on. Chris and TumBum come on over with katie and kate. I start drinking again with Tommy and Chris. Tommy pulls out some greenery, and then I really was done-zo Washington. My adrenaline from the booze wears off and my baked-ness kicks in. I’m so tired, I just want to pass out. John comes up to me and tells me that jim is passed out in the closet. The closet is pretty small with shit littered up to your waist. Jim was leaning at a 45-degree angle on all the stuff in the closet with drool coming out his mouth. He looked so peaceful, I really was envious of his solid pass out spot. I was the only one up out of the wisco bros. I was so tired and there was nowhere to pass out. I snuck back onto John’s bed but he soon found me, so I had to find a new spot. I couldn’t open my eyes or walk or function… I was brain dead fsho. I crawl behind the couch next to Davis, close my eyes and all I see is black…
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