Marcelo laments that none of us remember last night, because apparently we had a hard core hug fest, and there was a lot of positive energy. What I remember is a lot of shirtless dance party, convincing girls that their boobs looked great in the bra they were wearing, and Marcelo dancing in those bras.
I suppose that waking up in a pea coat is better than waking up in my own pee (I will not name names) but nonetheless waking up on a couch that is not my bed in two layers of zip hoodies and my own pea coat does beg the question - why?
Waking up this morning may give a clue as to why last night went as far as it did (no shirts, no heterosexuality, no problem):
"Hey Burns, we're going to the Phi Mu mixer tonight"
A little background - Phi Mu is a sorority at American University and their organization's name is commonly mispronounced as "Phi Moo" due to the heft and disposition of the vast majority of their membership. Furthermore need I add that I'm not in college anymore? Suggesting we go as adventurers to the fat girl party drunk as hell as alumni is tantamount to saying "Let's line up at the Hometown Buffet and put our dick in the mashed potatoes" - it's funny, but the point is probably moot.
To sweeten the pot, after waking me up at a very early three thirty pm to suggest that we make fun of girls that eat their feelings tonight, he hands hungover Chris a Sparks.
Damn.
Whether you have been friends with Chris Burns for years, or are still in the process of making his acquaintance you must know this - in Chris Burns World handing him a Sparks is the same as making him sign his name in blood. Sparks, for the uninitiated, are delightful drinks that are energy drinks tastefully blended with malt liquor. The result tastes troublingly like cough syrup and leads to serious lapses in judgement, so you can see why I'm such a huge fan. It's a canny move on my friend's part because I lack each and every piece of the mental equipment most people possess that would enable them to refuse a Sparks.
Let's keep in mind that I am going to have to work tonight, so blending American Spirits, Sparks, and the booze from last night all together in my tummy is probably a strategic choice that I'll regret very soon, but the question remains - Hometown Buffet?
Probably yes, and I envision it as such - I show up fresh out of work and looking to cut a rug. I grab the first two cows I see and make monster love to them simultaneously on the dance floor. I drink my weight in grain alcohol, fuck a pledge or two, and pass out in a pile of fraternity semen and fat bitch.
Is it worth it?
Ha, of course.
I'll be dead at age 55.
-Chris
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