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Kid Bacardi Vs. His Liver


Written by Kid Bacardi

          Okay, so it’s been a while since put up any new stories, but it defiantly doesn’t mean that I haven’t been boozing. The Spring Break train has yet to be stopped. This has caused me and my liver to square off against one another. He is not to happy with the fact that Pamela
Anderson every time he sobers me up a little bit I pour two times the amount of booze back in. I think he is currently rallying the rest of my organs in an attempt to hostilely take over my body. Last weekend was a grueling battle till the end. It started off Thursday night at the Sig Kap Crush Party. We had started drinking at about 4:30 and by 8:30 when it was time to get ready to go over to the party I was starting to get a little on the drunk side. Everyone was wearing dress pants and ties and shit but I decided that I was gonna roll with a button up, jeans, and sandals. When we got there I was definitely underdressed and quickly learned that they had $1.50 jagar bombs. I ordered up 4 and a whisky and coke and it was off to the races. After the first whisky and coke I switch to long islands in an attempt to taste some kind of booze. This was a slight success but more jager bombs were inevitable. There were a bunch of people there by this time and I was still the most underdressed. I was talking to a bunch of girls that I know and none of them seemed to care that I now had just my wife beater and jeans on. Some of the more stuck up cunts were shooting me bitchy looks, but had they said anything, I’m sure that it would have made my night. The party was quickly getting gay ass fuck so I started rallying the troops to roll over to GII. Jeremy and I rolled out with a couple other people. I don’t know how, but I had acquired a pink lay and the ghetto ass sunglasses that I had bought I Cozumel. So I rolled into the bar looking like a drunkin maniac and definitely acting the part. I started hanging out with a couple of sig kapps and as I was sitting there I just kept seeing bitches that I fucked. There were honestly about 5 or 6 girls there that I had fucked at some point in time this semester. While all of that bullshit was going on around me I was trying to decide between the two that I was talking to. At some point in time after I had blacked out, one of the girls that I had been talking to asked me to take her to my formal. Normally that would have thrown me into a fucking rant session asking her why in the fuck would I take her and shit like that. For some reason, maybe it was because she was buying my drinks or maybe because she was hot, I decided that taking her was gonna be the way to go. I don’t actually remember any of this happening but I have been able to piece things together since then. With that one as good as closed, I decided to hunt for something else. The only problem with hunting in that environment was that it was filled with fucking previous kills. I was way to drunk for this by that time in the night so I settled for a prior and kept getting my drinks paid for. The economics were amazing because some how I woke up with more money than I had left with the next morning. When the bar closed we headed back to the house and kept boozin. The details are still largely unknown, but I do know that I woke up an hour late for work on the couch in the formal room.           After a shitty day of work that I think I was only sober for about two hours of, I was back to drinking. We drank at the house for most of the night and headed to the bar around 11:30. Believe it or not I was once again in the zone. For some ungodly reason, all the same bitches were there again. I opted to get super fucked and started pounding whiskey. I was bouncing between a few groups of girls. This was getting me nowhere and since it was already last call and I had no more booze, I was out. I hit up the liquor store and they locked the door behind me. I grabbed a fifth of Bacardi Limon. I headed back to the house and everyone was there boozing. I was doing my damnedest to take down that bottle and everyone was looking at me like I was crazy. I guess at one point in time I was talking to someone and started leaning forward until I crashed head first into the brick wall in the basement. I didn’t feel it the next day so I guess it wasn’t that bad. I guess I ended up passing out in a chair spooning with my bottle of Bacardi. There was about an eighth left, I had done some damage.           The third day of my battle began with me waking up at the house again at about 1. I was still wasted and everyone was talking about how shitty I had been the night before. We decided to go to Applebees for some food and I started drinking again. The nice thing about waking up drunk and getting right to work is that you don’t have to get drunk again, you just have to maintain. After lunch we headed to GII for some afternoon drinks and to watch the basketball games. I decided to start taking shots of Jet Fuel. The shit tasted awesome and packed a fuckin punch. After the first game I headed back to the house to drink and watch the second game. I was so shit faced by this time I had no concept of time. My body was slowly taking me down from the inside. I passed out around 10:30 and then got up at 11:30 and went to the bar. I don’t think I was there very long before I headed back to the house and passed out again. I battled back and woke up around 3 or 4. the time had switched on me and I was all sorts of confused. I stumbled back to my place and after hours was in full swing. We boozed at my place till about 5 and then Matt, Jason, Nathan, and I headed to Denny’s. We couldn’t tell what our waiter/waitress was so we just started calling it Pat. I was proclaiming to everyone that I was gonna apply to be the next Pope and I was a lock. By the time we finished it was about 6:30 and we took off. Matty was outside already, and as I stumbled out I yelled at him, “You Old Bastard.” Some 70 year old lady was walking up to the door and she thought I was yelling at her. She got real nervous and rushed inside. Once I got home, I drank one more beer, just to put my liver in place and then went to sleep. I was victorious.           By the way, I will be going to Memphis this weekend to check out Beale St. I'm sure one or two sweet things might happen. We are also going to have a "Drunkest Story" contest and the winner will get posted on the main page. So send me your stories and let the world know how fucked up you get.


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