Working Backwards

So before the Ultimate Lost Marathon, there was a football game. And before the football game was a tailgate. And even before that some alumni came and met us at BtB, which made the tailgate a little rough at first, but these things happen. AmyPawlowicz said a bad word. THE bad word--I want to make sure everyone knows that. Labeled...for her pleasure.

The tailgate was good, lots of alums. Not a lot of tickets. The Vnaks brought their wee little baby Vnaks, and they were some outrageously cute little mofos. If Lizett had not lost my spleen earlier in the week in a high stakes poker game, it would almost definitely have exploded. It was kind of nuts to actually see them with their babies--you're YOUNGER than me, Vnaks! You once fell asleep on my bathroom floor curled up with the very towel I use to dry my genitals! Other notables included the Angelo-Beth combo, the B-Puff-Amy combo, the scolson-Eliz combo, the Nick-Jess combo, the Cock-Christine combo, the Lizett-Big-Sexy combo, and the Raul-Rocky love machine. That's right, if I didn't mention you, you're not notable. Specifically you, Jan. It also occurred to me much later that I didn't really talk to any of the aforementioned people, because I am an anti-social loser. Also I felt like revelry-induced-shite for much of the morning and was in Oh-God-Lizett-Is-Leaving-Tomorrow mode to boot, so I was pretty much attached to her at the ass all day. We walk ass to ass sometimes. It's kind of Our Thing. I'll catch you at Stanford, everyone else.

Speaking of Lizett and ass, she wanted to hit up the concert on the steps because she was not satisfied with the previous 28 times she went, so I got to traipse along for that and stand awkwardly while she was berated with hugs from a torrent of underclassmen who I not only did not know, but no longer even recognize. Theoretically I could've gone to say hi to the few remaining 'tones I know, but instead I opted...to not do that. To complete our anti-social loser theme, we actually retreated to the Registrar's Office after that to enjoy some frosty sodas instead of going to see the stepoff, so screw you everyone! Man, getting into the stadium was a breeze, and we were still there in plenty of time for everything, I'm never following the band in again.

The game was awesome. We were Hulk Hogan, Penn State was a sickly midget with a limp. We had our way with you and then used your broken bodies to mop up your tears. We chewed on your souls and flossed with your spirits. We are awesome and you suck. Retroactive pick:

ND: Heart-medicine-laced submarine sandwich
Penn State: Fondling sweaters

Oh, I actually took a picture with my digital camera, hugely out of character. I believe Lizett forced me:

That’s right, I’m pretending to lick her face. I even made it the background of my phone so every time I flip it open everyone can know how wacky and outrageous I am.

Finally, you must trust me, for I speak-a Spanish: You must never give the drunk Rocky-Raul love machine the keys to your home, under any circumstances. I don’t know what happened while I was at the game. I don’t want to know. I know only that when I got home Raul was gone, along with my key. Rocky was in some sort of delusional state of waking sleep. The laundry I’d had churning in the dryer was inexplicably strewn across the carpet. There was vomit on Ball’s toilet, my bathroom floor was under half an inch of water, and my bath towel—the very towel one Mr. Vnak once cuddled with—was a soaking wet ball in the bathtub. My backup bath towel had something…something yellow on it. Potato-sacking sons of bitches.