D-bauch'd... (TiV 2010, Part 2)

Well… FUCK! We all were herded into our cars like cattle and Cyle Van Auken was heard yelling “Tits or GTFO” as all the cars rode off into the drizzle. We blasted Tik Tok and picked up some beer on the way home, wondering what the day had in store for us. Would we get to play more frisbitch or would all of Baby Craig’s wildest fantasies be realized? We all lazed around the hotel watching basketball for a while until Big Bad Shane got restless and got the old crew back together. Siege Pod took a field trip over to the Bungalow to rouse some support only to find that, not only was the bungalow a disappointment on all fronts, but all the bungalow brosephs had bro creamed all over the place and fallen asleep face down in the sticky mess. We stepped on CJizz, rolled Marchi out of bed, almost broke a window, flattered Zubie Dubie Doo, incurred the wrath of J-Mo(ney), and spoke unenthusiastically with NGB before we successfully brought the bungle-hos back to the world of the semi-lucid.

A cock-eyed plan was conceived to walk the strip and keep drinking, so we headed out falteringly with limited deliberation and even less purpose. We didn’t bring enough beer and were left with no choice but to continue to buy more and more beer as we continued down the strip, stopping into casinos to watch the Zoo-bear lose money and CabanaRae waste her time at the penny slots. Everyone was pounding beers and having a good old time, but no one was pounding them harder or getting drunker more quickly than good old Shane who loves nothing more when he is drunk than to talk about frisbee ad nauseum. We made our way all the way down to the Bellagio in order to see the fountain, but we missed it three or four times in a row for various reasons like going to the bathroom and talking to this real cool guy named Jason about how he was going to get us a VIP deal at Haze. Craiggers, Hupps, and I finally headed out into the rain to watch by ourselves, but it was some lame ass song, and we were pretty disappointed. Fortunately, we were able to convince everyone else to head back out to watch it with us the next time and we were treated to a beautiful rendition of “God Bless the USA”. I don’t think I have ever felt more patriotic pride than I did at that moment standing in front of the Bellagio, arm in arm with my teammates, belting along with Lee Greenwood.

After an over-priced dinner at Bally’s, we headed back south toward the Trop, in various states of inebriation. We decided that we would play beer pong, but, before we could, we needed thirty racks so Chupps, BANK, and I headed to Vons to git dem codez. Pretty dece. N2Hoops and I ran the table for a while doing some sick shit like sinking on the same cup and getting on FIYAH. I think the most cups we got in a turn was 7 or 8. We reached our breaking point finally and some lame team beat us.

Other highlights of the evening include:
-doing shots with Cyle Van Auken
-Terra getting real drunk
-Hupps spewing his bro cream all over the visitors from USC and Colorado
-Craig’s throne
-Dinger Dan dropping three tabs of acid and trying to eat all of our discs

My night ended as our room filled up with Colorado-B players and I, unable to stay awake, curled up with Hubbs to pass out fully clothed in the midst of the party.

I did not wake up fully clothed.