An Toastal weekend had scheduled parties for each dorm section. There were organized trips for high school and college girls from Chicago and the surrounding areas. The girls would pay a fee for which bus transportation, hotel rooms, meals, and tickets to a Saturday basketball game and Saturday night concert were included. Also included was a party in the designated section. Part of the fee the girls paid was given to the section to buy kegs for the party. (I can't imagine allowing my daughter to do any such thing, but there were literraly hundreds, if not a couple thousand girls who would come for that weekend.)
Our section's school was a senior high school class from Chicago. Their bus had mechanical trouble on the trip and was late. By 9 pm we went ahead and tapped the keg. They arrived around 11 pm. All the guys had their beer goggles on by then.
Two of my roommates were particularly plastered and immediately hit on two of the girls. I had enough sense remaining to see that this was not a good idea. It was later acknowledged by several of my section mates that they had independently come to the conclusion that one of these two bore a striking resemblence to the monkeys in the Wizard of Oz. The other wasn't as cute.
While they had an "enjoyable" evening with their new found friends, the next afternoon when the girls arrived to go to the basketball game with them was a shock. They had promised the girls they would go to the bball game and the concert with them. They couldn't escape.
The girls then wanted to stay with them on Sunday. They weazled out. The girls had their names and room numbers and would write their new "true loves" multiple times a week. The one guy wouldn't write back. The other did respond frequently, but pretending to be the other. It took a good two months to finally undo what had been caused by the mechanical failure of that bus on a Friday night.
Me and 3 friends make the trek from Orlando to Clearwater Florida. We get to the hotel at about 2 in the afternoon check into our room and get ready for a nice party weekend. As we head to the room we notice two hotties swimming in the pool, we figure their will be plenty of time to hit on those chics, so we start drinking heavily Miller lights, and shots of goldschlager, feeling really good. I hadn't eaten that day and begin to feel lets just say "rough". The plan is for us to head into Tampa and party at eybor city. Before we go I really start feeling bad, and decide I better relax tonight, and hit it hard tommorow. Friend #1 says he doesnt feel like going, and is going to hit a small bar near the hotel. Well friends #2, and #3 call us wimps and head out. On there way they stop by the pool and talk to the hotties. Get total rejection, it was ugly as I watched from our balcony. They leave I lay down and fall asleep. About 2 hours later friend #2 comes in and says its a suasage fest down at the bar, but those 2 hotties are back at the pool. I agree to go down and speak with them, as I have ate somthing by this point and am feeling much better. We invite them up to the room and begin drinking. Friends #2, and #3 come back early to find me making out with one of the chics, and friend #1 attempting to make out. Friends #2, and #3 get pissed and kick girls out I follow them and am explaining that their just being asses and that they will get over it. After about 30 min. I hear gun shots, and we race back to our respective hotel rooms. I find freind #1 sitting there saying I can't belive it, I can't believe it over and over. After about 5 minutes of this friends #2, and #3 burst into room saying that they just saw someone shooting at a car. Confused I asked them how they saw that, and they proceed to inform me that they were leaving myself and friend #1 because we pissed them off, but have decided to stay now that there is gunfire. After that they got over being rejected, and we had a great weekend. I hooked up with said girl on night number 2.
We all scream bloody murder because the chick is a flat out bitch. None of us can stand her. We basically figure that the only reason he is doing this is that he lost his virginity to her. But he is adamant that he loves her and they are going skiing for the weekend to celebrate. Mistake #1
Turns out she gets sick and cant go, my buddy has already paid so someone has to go. I am busy, so our other roommate goes. Mistake #2.
Saturday night the bitch and her sister(for sake of argument is good looking and not a bitch) show up at a little party we are throwing. She's not sick. We shrug and keep doing tequilla poppers and playing caps. Gets late I hook up with her sister. The bitch has disappeared and I haven't noticed as we depart to my room. Uh oh. Mistake #3.
Sunday morning "engaged" roommate returns early. Mistake #4 He misses his fiance. Goes into his room and she is happily sick, naked with some guy. All hell breaks loose. End result. Cops, three arrests, hospital bills, and no marriage.
Funny thing is her sister kept showing up at our parties and she seemingly hooked up with everybody. I gotta call my buddy and see if he ever did?!?
And by "great moments", I mean "truly horrible, soul-scarring moments".
(Warning: this is an old buddy of mine from growing up who somehow went completely off the human decency track sometime during the five years he spent in West Lafayette training to become an engineer, then an aviation manager, then some odd, unemployable hybrid of undeclared socio-managing assistant golf pro with a dab of kinesiologist thrown in for good measure. The retelling of these stories represents in no way an endorsement of this sort of behavior. Some of it is abhorrant but still strangely captivating in a "Faces of Death" sort of way. Hell, I didn't even know what a "blumpkin" was before I lived with him.)
* Purdue roommate -- let's call him "Petey" for simplicity's sake -- hooks up with a girl at her apartment and spends the night. In the morning, her overprotective father -- who is very large and very Italian -- bursts into the apartment to visit and use his daughter's computer, which also happens to be in her bedroom. There is no back exit. In order to carry out the ruse and avoid physical harm, Petey stows away under his conquest's bed for the next four hours, completely naked and trapped with the girl's Shih-tzu with the girl's father sitting three feet away from him for the duration. He only escapes, still nude and clothes in hand, when the father has returned to the living room and fallen into a light sleep sitting up on the couch.
* Petey meets a girl over the internet (representing a majority of his dating activity at the time) and after wining and dining her over the course of the next week-plus, decides to tap out when she starts mailing hand-written letters to him at our apartment addressed in his full (first middle last) name on a twice-daily basis. Never one for the formal breakup, Petey resorts to tried-and-true "duck and cover" strategy, wherein he simply neglects to return all calls, e-mails, etc, until the correspondence ceases. Indeed, almost childlike in its simplicity.
In any case, plans had been made for them to rendez-vous at a basketball game the following week. Fearing that the young lass was not one to take "no comment" for an answer, Petey calls me at work one afternoon and mentions, oh by the way, that some crazy bitch may be sitting outside our apartment when I get home later that day, waiting to meet up with him for their planned date. I'm told to let her know that he went to Chicago unexpectedly for work if she asks. When she's not waiting outside the door once I get home, I forget about the whole thing. Until 11:30 PM that evening, when she calls asking for Petey and sounding downright disoriented. I give her the prescribed line and ask if she's alright.
"Actually," she says, "We were supposed to meet to go to a basketball game today, and I drove to Cincinnati [note: from where she lived in Chilli-frickin-cothe, some two hours away] and waited at his apartment but he didn't show up. So I was driving back home and upset and not thinking clearly, and I got into a car accident".
Holy goddam shit.
"Holy goddam shit. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Well...actually...my neck is pretty sore..."
Christ.
"...and I can't bend my left arm all the way..."
Good grief.
"...and, well, the car's basically undriveable..."
She said she'd gotten treatment, and I wished her well. Petey rolls home a half-hour later, and I quickly tell him, "You're not going to believe this."
"Yeah, I know. Heard she got into an accident or something."
"Oh. Did you talk to her?"
"Nah, I heard her message." Shrugs. "I'll call her tomorrow."
This guy was unbelievable, the living personification of every crude stereotype of the male form. Fun guy but absolute hell on women. I can still hardly believe my luck that I escaped living there without getting shot by some woman or her whacked-out boyfriend/husband/whatever.
I don't expect her to agree to go. However, my roomates feel that there is a chance because she's really nice and a little bit eccentric. I call her up and she agrees to go and even adds that she's "looking forward to it".
Flash forward to one hour prior to date pickup. I'm a frosh and all of the upper classmen have seen dogbook pictures of my date Jennifer. They're acting like true friends by telling me that there's no way I can handle a girl like that sober and I need to loosen up a bit. Many shots are had.
I bring Jennifer back and we have a great time. I am buzzing but just enough to be casual and funny though not enough to puke on her. As the night goes on, we retire to one of the six man suites to take a break. For some reason, I'm a dancing machine when I'm drunk.
Everyone around us is making out like crazy. Jennifer says to me, "What do you think about going back to your room?" Like a puppy dog, I say "OK!" and take her hand, leading her back to my room. I'm so drunk that I have no clue what this means.
My bastard roomate (who will burn in hades for being in there with his girlfriend) had the door locked. I try the door and report to Jennifer that the door is locked.
She suggests that we keep going until we find another room that is open. I look at her and say, "Nah, why don't we just go back to the dance." She is bewildered, but agrees.
It was one of those moments where you wake up the next day and it hits you, "I did NOT do that...did I?" All the next day the Srs and Jrs kept taunting me about how the girl was hanging on me. Almost 20 years later my roomates will still ask me if I'd rather be dancing.
It was freshman year. It was a Friday night at the beginning of the year, so folks were implementing their lessons from Dis-Orientation with gusto. I'm already in bed because I have to get up for a job interview in the morning.
There's a knock at the door. I open it, and it's a girl I had met at the graffitti dance, utterly plastered. She basically pushes her way in and starts complaining about not being able to find her roommate. As I am clad only in boxers, I go back to the bed for some extra coverage. The girl (yes, she was hot) proceeds to climb into bed with me. Since she can't find her roommate, she "will have to come up with something better to do."
Being uncomfortable with a hopelessly drunk girl doing this, I got up and just went to sit at my desk. As drunk girl continued to writhe on my bed, there is another knock. It's the roommate, wanting to know if I've seen drunk girl. I pointed to the bed. Roommate is apparently disgusted at first, but then realizes that nothing has happened. She escorts drunk girl out of the room, though drunk girl is moaning "But I want to stayyyyy."
to to getting a chick's interest was being "unavailable?"
I had a major crush on this one girl my sophomore year of college. After our second date, she invited me up to her room.
We go up to her room, she shows me around (which takes all of 30 seconds), then I told her that I needed to get going.
She said, "okay", then gave me a big hug, started running her hands through my hair and kissed me on the cheek. So what do I do? I insist that I really need to get going. I left, and she never agreed to go out with me again.
Now for the truly painful part. I wasn't so much of a puss that I was scared to make out with her, and I wasn't too drunk to know that she wanted to make out with me. I was such a puss that I didn't want to make out with her because I was getting over a nasty chest infection and I didn't want to risk making her sick.
akaRonMexico has my permission to punch me in the face this Friday.
Celine Dion.
And no "ironic cover", either, like everyone watching knows for a fact that you think it sucks.
There is no way I'd be able to pull off singing a Celine Dion tune without laughing and/or puking mid-song.
You ask me if I love you
And I choke on my reply
I'd rather hurt you honestly
Than mislead you with a lie
And who am I to judge you
On what you say or do?
I'm only just beginning to see the real you
And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die
Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides
Romance and all its strategy
Leaves me battling with my pride
But through the insecurity
Some tenderness survives
I'm just another writer
Still trapped within my truth
A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth
And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die
Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides
At times I'd like to break you
And drive you to your knees
At times I'd like to break through
And hold you endlessly
At times I understand you
And I know how hard you've tried
I've watched while love commands you
And I've watched love pass you by
At times I think we're drifters
Still searching for a friend
A brother or a sister
But then the passion flares again
And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die
Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides
It once doubled as their dorm fight song.
was to make it official and call it a girl's dorm.
The joint was so chronically infested with chicks that Student Affairs and the administration finally threw up their hands and just kicked all the fellas out instead.
At least that's what one of the cafeteria workers told me, so you know it's gold.
Some grassy knoll behind Badin, the fields of Stepan...whatever, who the hell cares??
I could have found a place and if I was sober, I'm sure I would have. When we headed back to my room I had no idea why we were going there.
Imagine my brain as Homer Simpson's after he's seen a butterfly.
for a follow up date!
She said, "I'm not sure if there's much point." Which I interpreted as "You're gay, right?"
I gave up after that.
As a more mature, self-analytical adult you would likely have found a way to make it work, but in college.....
She was so hot. I used to look for her at reunions.
Friend (and future room-mate) of mine wakes up one morning after a heavy night of drinking, looks down from his loft and sees a girl lying on her back on his couch, buck naked except for a pair of his jeans pulled up to her knees. He clears his throat and she wakes up and looks up at him.
Him: "Good Morning"
Her: "It's my Birthday"
Him: "Happy Birthday"
Her: "Thanks, (pause) where's ______"
Him: Laughs - I'll go get him.
She had broken parietals with a guy in the room two doors down, got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom - apparently naked - and went back to the wrong room.
The best part is, the other guy that lived in my friends room had to get up early that morning, but he was still totally blitzed from the night before. He gets down from the loft, goes and takes a shower, comes back and brushes his teeth and gets dressed and leaves. Meaning he was either too drunk to notice a naked girl on the couch, or she went on her little trip through the hallways after sun-up.
ed. for spelling
I heard of that happening in Stanford during my tenure at ND.
but this really happened (at least it did in Sorin) - it would have been your senior year of high school.
DomerJD might just be the younger, taller, cuter version of me.
My junior year, one of the fraternities had an "around the world" party, and I decided to be little miss world traveler. Every room had a different international drink. I had a particular fondness for Russia and cheap vodka. After a few rounds, I ran into a guy in one of my history classes. We had never spoken a word to each other, but I walked up to him and laid one on him. I have heard stories about the rest of the evening, but I think they are exaggerated.
First semester freshman year I meet a girl at a party, we drink way too much, she gets tired and asks me to walk her home. About half way there I black out and have no recollection until the next morning.
Fast forward to senior week four years later when one of her roommates corners me and tells me that they have had a nickname for me ever since. She informs me that everyone of her friends called me "Lightpost" because apparently at some point while walking her home I pinned her up against a lightpost and made out with her with reckless abandon. Her roommates were all up in their room watching from the window. Until that point I honestly thought I was a gentleman and just walked a drunk girl home.
Two weeks after my twenty-first birthday, this girl I only casually knew as a friend came up to me and told me I was so hilarious and fun at my birthday party. I said, "You were at my birthday party?"
She wasn't amused. I didn't remember seeing her there. Her roommate came up and asked me if I seriously couldn't remember seeing her at my party. I actually couldn't. So, her roommate informed me that I had been making out with her there. Ooops!
Ah the 2001-2002 SMC sophomore class formal...at Beacon Bowl. We begin the night by grabbing a cab over to SMC to pick up my gf (date for the night), her 4 friends, and head up to Castle Point. Someone decides it's a great idea to do shots of tequila, and within 60 minutes, 5 guys are trying to objectively determine which of the 5 ladies that night has the best "endowments". I have pictures of this. For bonus point they decided to hold a thong contest, and were none to shy about displaying. this comes into play more later.
in order to catch the last bus from SMC to the bowling alley, we couldnt' wait for a cab, so we all hopped in two cars and hit about 80 getting to campus. We get there, and we have our first casualty as one ofr the 5 girls falls out of the car, pukes on the sidewalk, and is deemed unable to get on the bus. We get on, someone behind us pukes, thigns are going great right now. after a ncie little 20 minute ride to the alley, we stumble. My gf and her roomie and best friend make a pit stop in the bathroom. this is where the second casualty comes in, as gf's freind passes out on the can. my gf, meanwhile manages to have ruined her thong in the earlier contest, as it snaps, and she tosses them out to her roomie who looks at me in horror. I just shake my head and thank god I'd brought a pepsi bottle full of rum to get me through this. passed out friend gets dragged out by her date, we're down to 3 couples, and it's 11:15. at the latest. a bit of bowling ensues, a littlem ore drinking, along with about 1000 of the drunkest people I have ever seen. just as the lights go on, I'm rolling my last ball, hoping to break 25 on the night. No such luck, as my blitzed GF pulls a Terry Tate and tackles me down the lane. unfortunately, my shin caught on the gutter, and ripped open about 3 inches. Gushing blood, I hobble to the bus, vowing never to set foot on SMC again. we finally make it back to mccandless (this story keeps getting worse), sneak in past security, and my gf passes out. well previously passed otu friend had been dropped off by her date in my gf's room, and mistakes me for either a teddy bear or a space heate,r cause when I wak up the next morning, I'm not spooning my gf, but her. thankfully, gf let it slide, but oh my what a night.
Not about me, but a fellow freshman.
He went off early in the year to an SYR on the other end of campus. Most of us stayed in Flanner at the multitude of freshman parties. Late in the evening nearing 2, we are all back in a room hanging out and finishing off leftover drinks when the phone rings.
The guy who answers the phone gets everyone to quiet down so that he can hear his new freshman roommate drunkingly slur into the phone "help, you have to come get me. She tried to take my pants off." He repeated this a few times before hanging up.
We all had a pretty good laugh about it, and after about 30 minutes or so the guy's roommate decides to head out and find him. An hour or so later he returns with incredibly drunk roommate in tow. He was found curled up on a bench on God Quad.
Eventually we got the story out of him. He wasn't having the best time at the SYR so he decided to just booze instead. After awhile he was really loaded and trying to fend off her advances. His solution was to stumble back to her room and pretend to pass out on her couch. He thought it worked until he felt her hands trying to undo his pants. I forget how he got out of it. Maybe he faked a dry heave. Anyway, he managed to get to a phone and make the now infamous call for help.
If only because it mirrors the beginning of American Pie.
Wasn't facially blessed. But they were having a reasonable time at a party until some drunk guy comes up and says that "his girlfriend" is really ugly. Drunken nobility demands that the offender needs to get smacked. My roomie cocks to throw one, catches the poor girl with his elbow on the pull back, bustin' her nose and causing a geyser of blood to flow.
They didn't go out after that.
But I literally just spit water all over my computer at work.
You got dates by drawing a name out of a hat - our one friend drew the name of the backup keeper. She didn't write her name on the paper, she just wrote "Bad Ass." He didn't hook up with her that night - she hooked up with him!
Some of them scared the shit out of me. I won't name names for fear of retribution.
and we couldn't wake my roommate and his buddies from their drunken stupor passed out on the floor, so we just climbed up to the loft. We wake up in the morning to those guys just starting to awaken. All of a sudden, I hear "wow Kray, you sure druel a lot in your sleep." Followed by, of course the inevitable "hey, wait a second, that's not druel!" So of course, the guy quickly gets out of all of his clothes, only to turn and look up at me and the girl laughing hysterically. To his credit, without missing a beat he says "does this turn you two on?"
South Quad Susie and her roommate Whose your Daddy?
because she got that name in 1991.
Do you remember hurricane Becky from SMC?
Marc Edwards went back to that well too many times to count. We always gave him shit for it. He used to take her down by the lake.
I thought it was just all of my friends.
That is a very familiar story. I still remember that girl's real name.
Two girls who were roommates went to a lacrosse party and got blitzed. The one girl went back to a guy's room and they start going at it doggy style. She's all loud, wakes up the guy's roommate who just starts watching from his loft. Suddenly the guy starts slappin her ass yellin "Whose yer daddy? Whose yer daddy?" She starts yelling back "You are! You are!"
Meanwhile her roommate, Susie, is in the middle of South Quad spread eagle gettin plowed by another guy on the team.
caught one of my other roommates spanking it. He didn't know she was still there, sleeping, only to be woken up to the rythmic beat.
I got busted by security making out in my car in the D2 lot. Thank god they didn't breathalyze me.
One of my female friends once walked in on me with a gf...twice.
as friends. I supposedly was chosen over LaPhonso Ellis, though it's hard to guess as to how realistic the second choice was.
Anyway, details of the date are omitted for this forum, but when the rectress began clamoring for intrusive room inspections. By the time I got to my drunken senses, it was well after 2 a.m. I felt around the floor in the dark to put pants back on.
When lookouts in the hall signaled the coast was clear. I ran for my life across the hall and down the short flight of steps to the nearest exit. Pants, which I realized were not mine, proceeded to fall off me as I hoofed it back to Keenan.
I had the opposite of you as a date for one dance. I happened to befriend a certain female sports star during a snowball fight one winter. After talking to her a few times, I asked her to a dance. She said yes and all was good. Naturally, I drank a few beverages before going to pick her up (OK, in the interest of full disclosure, about 15 - 20 of us killed a 4 litre bottle of Carlo Rossi white zinfandel in about 10 minutes...stay classy, San Diego.) I picked her up, gave her her LaFortune flower or whatever other cheesy gift I had for her, and we went to the pre-party. I'm assuming she knew I had been drinking. At any rate, we drank a little in the pre-party and chatted. Then we went upstairs and talked to a friend of hers that was at the dance with a friend of mine...and I drank a little more. Over the years, I have tried to figure out about where my actions might have given her the wrong impression, and all I can figure out was that when I went on and on about hos comfortable the burnt orange couch was, she thought I was trying to get a little more comfortable than she wanted to get. At any rate, she turned to me and said "I just want you to know that I'm not into random hook ups." (Um...OK...we haven't been in a room with fewer than 15 people since we walked through the front door of the dorm...but whatever) So in my drunken wisdom, I retorted "Well...do you want to just go home or something, because I think you have the wrong impression of me..." And finished my drink. While I was finishing the drink, she muttered something about "gonna run upstairs to see my friend again." Yup, I was being ditched. "Where's that bottle?" I thought... and proceeded to drink until my stomach dictated that we were going first to the bathroom to worship the porcelain god, and then to pass out on the couch. I asked my friends in my section what happened and they all told me that there was nothing else to remember - I went into my room and passed out and nobody saw me until the next morning.
So the next day at the dining hall, a former roommate of mine came up to me and said "Dude, what did you do last night? I heard you were all over your date? I have a class with her and she came down to my room at like 11:00 and told me you were all over her... I told her that didn't sound like normal for you, but she was serious!" My whole table erupted in laughter. I have asked every person I saw that night if I did anything inappropriate, and every one said they never saw me do anything that could have been even considered forward. Yet in her eyes I was all over her.
A couple interesting footnotes - one, akaRonMexico went up to her in a bar a year later and said "So, has the restraining order expired yet? You know, the one you took out on pmcdnd96 when he tried to assault you last year?" And about two weeks after that, she apologized to me (and I to her in the event that I had done something to offend her) and all was forgiven. Fast forward to about a year ago when I went out with a work buddy of mine and met one of his friends...he heard I went to ND and askde "Do you know athlete X?" I chuckled and said "I have a pretty good story about her..." He responded "Oh no, you're not one of the guys who stole a pair of her underwear and then used to call her and taunt her about it, were you?" Um, no...but now I see why she might have been a little jumpy...
The guy in my section didn't have an orange couch though.
Where did you live?
Friends of mine, one year ahead of me. Before they starting moving the deal inside, and when they still let everyone drink unabashed until the wee hours of the morning outside of the JACC. One of my first big parties at ND.
Anyways, both friends get drunk on Aftershock and Icehouse and begin to attract a group of girls, who think they are incredibly funny at this point in the night (round about 3:30am). True to form, both friends start to make their move with this girl in the hopes of coaxing her into one of their respective sleeping bags.
The competition continues for about an hour, until Friend #1 emerges victorious, and the young lass follows him into his sleeping bag. Friend #2 is disappointed, and wanders aimlessly for about 15 minutes looking for another willing participant before finally giving up.
So Friend #2 goes back to his sleeping bag, which was right next to Friend #1 and his new overnight buddy, who are clearly enjoying each other's company underneath the open sky. Friend #2 lies down and expects to pass out. Friend #1, meanwhile, figures out quickly that the girl does not intend to "seal the deal" with him, but rather offer to waive him directly to 3rd base. So, Friend #1 happily allows the young lady to round the bases for a triple. She leaves shortly thereafter, without even giving her name.
In the morning, Friend #1 speaks with Friend #2 about their night. But Friend #2 has a secret. Turns out, Friend #1 wasn't the only one enjoying the young lady's penchant for driving in triple-baggers. After Friend #2 laid down, a myserious painted-fingernailed hand crept into his sleeping bag and proceeded to practice base-running. She was "driving triples" down the third base line for both of them--at the *same time*
After that, she forever became known as "the Downhill Skiier."
You figure it out.
There was a running debate among a group of my friends about a guy (whom none of us guys in the group really knew). This guy had late night drunken hook ups with two gals in this particular group, both engagements sharing one disturbing characteristic. After each hook up, and after girl falls asleep / passes out in her bed, she wakes up to find the guy had urinated (one time in the middle of the bedroom floor, one time in a dresser drawer) and left in the middle of the night. They later learned of at least one other girl (who they didn't know well) that had the same experience with the guy.
We had a vigorous debate as to whether this was (a) intentional territorial pissing (mostly the guys taking this position) or (b) accidents that he couldn't control (mostly girls taking this position). Corresponding opinions as to why he didn't call / avoided the girls after this was (a) he's a dick, versus (b) he's too embarrassed.
A few years after graduation I was at a bar with a bunch of random ND folks, and there was this guy that I thought I recognized but couldn't place. After talking to him for awhile, it finally hit me - I'm talking to the pee-ing guy. I couldn't resist; I asked if it was him and why he did it. He was mortified - and I realized I was wrong and the girls were right.
with a Minnesota accent and a big ass?
on the accent. I don't remember him being that short; but he wasn't a big guy by any means. Don't recall anything about his ass.
Maybe I'm sayin' that cause he smoked Marlboros.
He's probably reading this right now.
I can't remember whether I bumped into him in the first or second year after my graduation.
If you think you know him, any opinion on the Great Debate?
In fact, I'm mainly trying to razz a lurker buddy of mine who had an alcohol-induced continence problem.
But if it is my buddy, it's unquestionably (b) to both questions.
She wasn't my date but it was my house, and our bathroom was completely wrecked - I have never seen anything like it. Human excerement smeared everywhere. Needless to say, her date was not happy. Especially when he had to clean it up. This freshman girl surely must've been mortified, but apparently not enough to not show up for Mass Sunday night at Morrissey Hall. When she walked in I could not believe my eyes. Since she was sent home in a pair of my housemates jeans she clearly had to know she did somethign really bad even if her friends didn't tell her. Other than that it was a great party.
at least I never did that.
It was about two weeks into my freshman year, and we were coming back from Jay's Lounge. There were about five or six of us crammed into the backseat. She was sitting in my lap, and we started making out. I got a bit seasick and out it came. All over her. And pretty much all over everybody else that was crammed in there.
Poor girl, through no fault of her own (save perhaps her tragically bad judgment), she was referred to as "Chunks" by everyone in my dorm from that night forward.
"All over her. And pretty much all over everybody else that was crammed in there."
This is even funnier taken out of context.
if you had gotten the Chunks nickname, and everyone kept telling the girl "hey, I heard you blew Chunks the other night."
That must have been some undeniable passion, doing it all covered with emesis. Congratulations!
at least when I was at ND, the term "hooking up" essentially meant "making out."
Those were days of innocence, Nats.
Freshman Year: Shag high school seniors and ugly chicks.(God love the Zeta and KD houses)
Sophomore Year: Shag your girlfriend the whole year.
Junior Year: Dump girlfriend, shag freshmen.
Senior Year: Shag everything, including but not limited to the librarian, homecoming queen, senior thesis study buddy and international econ grad assistant.
My sister lived at Turtle Creek my freshman year and she frequently threw huge parties to which my friends and I were always invited.
At one of the parties there was a girl who I really liked. I somehow managed to clear my sister’s room out and get the girl alone. Standing watch outside was a kid who I knew. My sister walks up and attempts to get into her room and the kid tells her that she can’t go in because there are people hooking up. She barreled the door down to find us making out on her bed
She then verbally berated me in front of everyone at the party. Shockingly enough the girl never spoke to me again.
This one doesn't have to do with my dating life, but is a good story nonetheless.
There was a famous and very popular AR in Dillon that I lived next door to my freshman year.
Anyway, he was dating another AR and late at night it was very easy for my roommate and I to hear them “studying.” After one particularly loud night we let him know that we could hear them with great detail and clarity.
He got so nervous about us telling people that he basically let us get away with anything the rest of the year.
It was our first date and nothing was said before hand about it. I about choked on my meal when she told me.
home with her but he had to leave early because her fiancee was coming into town from Michigan. He asked if he went to UM, she said yes, so he agreed to it.
There were red flags everywhere...but she was hot so I chose to ignore them. The kicker for the whole story is that her mom lived across the street and saw the whole thing. She then got e-mail address from the daughter, got ahold of me and told me "You two could be together if something would happen to him.." I told her I wasn't interested in killing her son-in-law and I then contacted the authorities.
I'm a crazy chick magnet.
good. Damn that's some serious stuff. As Springsteen said "someday we'll look back on this and it will all seem funny."
check this out. Most expensive date I've ever been on...I don't feel like cutting and pasting the text.
I've got at least two that could top that. Neither one happened to me - they afflicted my then girlfriend's roommate. But funny nontheless.
I've got an arsenal of these stories.
I also once had my date at Flanner Formal say to me, "So, is this going to happen, or what? Am I going to get some tonight, or what?"
All I could say at that point was, "Nope. Sorry."
He was pissed and proceeded to yell at me. That story is less amusing, that guy was just a jerk.
According to your profile, you graduated prior to my arrival at the dome as a law student. So it wasn't you. I think.
or do that generated these types of responses? Did you just choose badly? Or was your roommate an evil bitch?
that makes people think they can say whatever they want to me and it's OK. It's really not OK.
Sometimes it works to my advantage-- I am good at getting people to spill all their dark secrets.
I'll say what I can.
One "date" of hers involved a young man staying the night at their off-campus apartment. I was staying the night with my girlfriend. Anyway, I went to take a leak at 5 or 6 in the morning and found her date literally passed out (in less than all his clothes) on the bathroom floor. Not his proudest moment, I'm sure.
On another occassion, she had an another overnight guest. This young man, was less then satisfied with her unwillingness to "pleasure him." So he decided to finish himself off, so to speak, after she had already gone to sleep. Little did he know, she wasn't actually asleep. Classy, classy guy.
...but there was that one occassion when I drove a girl I was with at a bar back to what I thought was her apartment -- and, ergo, the promised land -- but instead merely her ex-boyfriend's house.
"Hey, thanks for the lift".
Fuuuuck.
Thanks. I knew I could find good laughs back here. Your post was the second in less than an hour to make me bust out laughing.
I had my suspicions before, but it's nice to finally know for sure that you're indeed the lead character in a good dozen mid-80s romantic comedies. Tell me, does your oh-so-wacky sidekick from those days still hang around, or is he a successful accountant living down in Del Ray Beach?
I am 50% "Gib" Gibson, 50% Lane Meyer, 50% Hoops McCann. My sidekick now resides at a methadone clinic in Lebanon, Ohio.
In the sequel to that story -- played out so recently that I hesitate to mention specifics -- the very same girl calls one night to meet up casually for drinks, a bit tipsy from a failed date earlier that evening. I pick her up and we hit a local watering hole, where she mentions that a guy she recently dated is in attendance.
"He looks awful bent out of shape about something," I remark. "Pray tell, how recently did the two of you go out?"
"Last night."
"He probably didn't get the memo about the break-up, I reckon."
Shrugs. "I guess not".
Guy has about four inches on me and is in standard-issue two-sizes-too-small black tee (side note: it's 27 degrees outside) and distressed jeans. He approaches and we exchange gutteral salutations in the midst of a semi-pleasant, vapid and perfectly-uncomfortable conversation between the two of them. He walks off with the sort of look on his face someone might have after a really bad dental cleaning and leaves the bar shortly thereafter, and she spends some amount of time subsequently chastizing him for doing so "without at least saying goodbye".
I keep her and a couple friends company over drinks for the next two hours, which extracts some amount of toll on my posture, as she's a dangerous combination of petite and classic low-talker. As I walk off to hit the restroom just before closing time, she mumbles something about some spiky-haired fruitcup across the bar being "kinda cute". I return several minutes later, just in time to see her walking out of the bar with the Axe-coated lad. I fear that the irony of "not saying goodbye" may have been lost on the poor girl. (Ir)regardless, good times had by all.
Red-hot and the most certifiably scandalous bitch I know.
Good story
This is why it's never a good idea to drink Natty Lite.
I never thought about taking off mine."
I'd assume many have the blind date SYR experience, but honestly I think that takes the cake. My worst one ended with my date sequestering herself in her bedroom early in the night and drunk dialing her recently ex-boyfriend. Your pants off party is a far superior story.
I needed a good laugh today and that certainly did it. I broke my ankle this morning and I'm laid up in bed reading ND Nation. Your post made me bust out laughing and put me in a much better mood. That's a hilarious story.
I thought I broke it, it was so swollen. I am still limping around, but it's a lot better. I feel your pain. Take it easy and try to enjoy the rest!
I would've wished I'd said,"I'm going to tell all my friends about it and laugh at you for years."
I had a blind date Freshmen year to an SYR that I walked in on kissing himself in the mirror in my room. I still have no idea what that was about -- Practicing? Narcisist? Perv? Just plain weird? I didn't stick around to find out and he was too drunk to notice.
(edit -- the guy wasn't actually physically blind, the date was. In case it's not clear.)
was vastly eclipsed by the number of people he told. My SMC friend who heard the story heard it from one of his friends.
So it's ten times better than any other time BP has had his pants off.
Is it possible that he is the victim in all this?
BP's post is made in (poor) jest. Regulars on the board recognize him and his posts for what they are. Although he is often offensive, his dad says he has a heart of gold. It's best if you just move along and stop your work on your letter to The Observer.
He made an attempt, it was rebuffed. I can't fault a guy for trying. Read the last line of my original post.
Honestly, I thanked him for giving me the greatest SYR story of all time.
The buckle snapped, I swear.