Oh, the drunken escapades that go down at my apartment. Truly entertaining. Adam drank too much and puked. So naturally, being the standup guy and dedicated friend that I am, I shaving creamed him. And not just a tit-bit either. I'm talking full on covered and smothered, used nearly all of the can, the whole apartment still smells like mint - that kinda shaving creamed him. I nearly ruined the whole ordeal by laughing as I was inches from his drunk ear. He resembled the Michelin tire marshmellow guy thing. Ok, not that much, but I just wanted you to know the extent of this mess. He then retaliated at eight this morning. I'd anticipated this last night so I made a barricade on my door prior to turning in. Apparently, it was not strong enough to withstand a hungover, creamy Adam bent on revenge. Let's just say what goes around, comes around. On to Scott...Scott passed out in the chair by the computer. When the beast finally stirred awake within him, he made a valiant effort to stand up, but unfortunately spilled his still open beer all over him whilst taking a tumble to the ground. This was most humorous. Next, he did the only logical thing to do in front of a room of people after you wet yourself with beer. He stripped down to his boxers. We laughed. I could tell he then had to urinate. He tried to open the sliding glass door out to the balcony, but he was sliding the side that didn't slide. What a tongue twister...anyway...I tried to inform him of this, but he was steadfast and determined to get it open. We laughed harder. After finally accepting defeat, he then decided that the front door was a urinal. I promptly had to inform him otherwise. I carried the big lug to the bathroom and allowed him to pee in the proper vestibule. After about thirty seconds, we see Scott's boxers fly out of the bathroom and land ever so softly on the hallway floor. We laughed even more. But then I was concerned and had a fleeting thought. If Scott's boxers were on the floor, what was hiding the atrocities that they had concealed? No! No naked Scott! Noooooo! But alas, it was too late. He emerged in his naked splendor. I was torn between vomiting and splitting my sides. I chose the latter. I threw him his shirt to shield us from his pale treasure. He did, but not in the way I'd originally intended. Instead of merely covering his junk, he perceived his t-shirt to be pants, the sleeves the legs and the collar the unnecessary hole in the crotch. We laughed hysterically. He then managed to stumble his way to the couch and pass out wearing his shirt-pants. Being the preservationist that I am, I insisted we take pictures. Unfortunately I can't post them on my blog. That saddens because you all are being deprived of these hilarities. But then again, the only people that care, I will be hanging out with tomorrow night. You can see then. I didn't go to bed till after five. I think the laughter was just too much...Good times, good times...
Written By Bryan "Fire Crotch" Thompson
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By Scotty Balls