alcohol and night swimming, a winning combination.
this beat could win me a grammy...
so maine went off without a hitch, sorta.
Eric, Nate and I drove up in nate's car (with your truly at the helm of the mighty vessel) along with enough booze to sink a destroyer. about twenty minutes after we got there, I began my three day adventure into complete degradation.
The complete report goes as follows:
Friday: movement was seen on the hills, we approached with a light infantry division. we engaged artillery units before taking heavy fire and retreating. I found a dollar under the couch. The only casualty was Paul Tilley, who ended up face down and covered with mayonnaise.
Saturday: we tried again to attack the enemy stronghold, this time by boat. Drew and Paul led the expedition, until they were met with fierce resistance by a large beaver dam. Only the captains escaped with their lives. Mr. Reed Southard also became victim to enemy booby traps, and had several crude drawings to show for it, the artist was later identified as a certain Nate Hartwell. I didn't notice what the hell was going on, on account of the marijuana laced rice krispies treats that Eric and I made.
Sunday: Dale said something stupid. Whitney read bad magazines. Drew, Blake and Eric all left very early in the morning. I cleaned up until getting distracted. Reed left with Dale and Whitney later on, leaving the house to only a skeleton crew of Paul, Alanah, Richard, and myself, but reinforcements arrived that day in the form of Will Chapin and Richard's sister Jes. To celebrate, we got very drunk and went swimming, then talked about...something, I don't really remember.
Monday: we were ambushed early in the morning, and fought valiantly against vastly superior forces. Will and Jes had left sometime earlier, and we realized it was a lost cause. We packed what we could into Alanah's war wagon, and fled the state at great speeds.
All in all, good weekend, but i don't look forward to driving back up to grab the booze and trash that we had to leave during the attack. C'est la vie.
so maine went off without a hitch, sorta.
Eric, Nate and I drove up in nate's car (with your truly at the helm of the mighty vessel) along with enough booze to sink a destroyer. about twenty minutes after we got there, I began my three day adventure into complete degradation.
The complete report goes as follows:
Friday: movement was seen on the hills, we approached with a light infantry division. we engaged artillery units before taking heavy fire and retreating. I found a dollar under the couch. The only casualty was Paul Tilley, who ended up face down and covered with mayonnaise.
Saturday: we tried again to attack the enemy stronghold, this time by boat. Drew and Paul led the expedition, until they were met with fierce resistance by a large beaver dam. Only the captains escaped with their lives. Mr. Reed Southard also became victim to enemy booby traps, and had several crude drawings to show for it, the artist was later identified as a certain Nate Hartwell. I didn't notice what the hell was going on, on account of the marijuana laced rice krispies treats that Eric and I made.
Sunday: Dale said something stupid. Whitney read bad magazines. Drew, Blake and Eric all left very early in the morning. I cleaned up until getting distracted. Reed left with Dale and Whitney later on, leaving the house to only a skeleton crew of Paul, Alanah, Richard, and myself, but reinforcements arrived that day in the form of Will Chapin and Richard's sister Jes. To celebrate, we got very drunk and went swimming, then talked about...something, I don't really remember.
Monday: we were ambushed early in the morning, and fought valiantly against vastly superior forces. Will and Jes had left sometime earlier, and we realized it was a lost cause. We packed what we could into Alanah's war wagon, and fled the state at great speeds.
All in all, good weekend, but i don't look forward to driving back up to grab the booze and trash that we had to leave during the attack. C'est la vie.