Nico-Whaaaat!

As a kid I loved stickers. Sometimes I would put them on and call them tatoos. But one night at the sitting with some of the guys on the balcony in front of my room at the Chi Phi house I had a new experience with adhesive fun, and I'm not talking about bondage.

I was just sitting there shooting the shit with the guys, enjoying a Kentucky Deluxe and Coke, when Heath Shields asked me if I wanted a cigarette. I politely said no. Upon my refusal he asked me why I declined. I plainly explained that I don't like inhaling smoke into my lungs. A sly smirk crossed his face, as it often does, and he asked me if I'd like to try a nicotine patch instead. At first I said no, but eventually caved to the mounting peer pressure coming at me pincer style from the rest of the guys sitting out there that particular night. Like Marty McFly being callled yellow I of course said, bring it on."

So Heath disappears into his room and emerges with this. I had finished my KDC and moved on to beer (Bud Light most likely). We cleaned off my arm and slapped that puppy on. Then I just continued on like nothing happened. We sat there talking. Heath got me my next couple of beers. After a while I looked at him flatly and said, slightly inebriated, "This shit ain't working. I don't feel a damn thing. I'm gonna go pee." No sooner had I stood up then I became more dizzy than I had ever been. I barely caught myself before falling off the balcony. Everybody else quickly realized just how messed up I was. After walking into my doorpost on the way out of my room, I plopped myself back in my seat. After this, things get fuzzy for a while.

At on point, my girlfriend at the time came by with her friend. I think it might have been her birthday (I know, I'm an ass!) but she had spent it with her sorority sisters so I didn't think she would be by. After she left I had a couple more drinks towards my oblivion.

Suddenly, something wasn't right. Someone had tightened vice-grips around my stomach. My abdomen starting twisting in a way that would make Chubby Checker jealous. I had to do something quick. I ran to the farthest edge of the balcony and barked like the Drill Seargent in Full Metal Jacket. Afterwards I rejoined the group and had another beer to try to quell the torment in my midsection. After that, I bid everyone goodnight (and called Heath a bad name... to which he laughed), and called it a night.

So remember kids, it doesn't matter how much you like stickers. Never use ones with medical terms on them.

A Thin Lead Line

So there I am drinking at Posse (as always). Me and the crew started going on about the good ole days and one of the old guys challenges me to walk the pipe. And I'll be damned if I didn't take him up on that challenge. The next set of events can wait a sec while I give a little background.

There is a pseudo-long standing tradition with Posse regulars (whether Engineering student, band member, local frat boy, or the old farts) and that is "Walking the pipe". This pipe is the shortest path between Posse East and the Engineering part of campus (UT). It spans Waller Creek between the two nearest bridges. The actual pipe is a 2-foot drain pipe, but the fun part is the I-beam that sits on top for structural support or something like that. It sits about 8 feet over the water (depending on conditions) and the creek reeks of ass. Now that you know what we were up against, I'll continue.

By now we had a crowd coming with us over to the pipe. People have fallen off before so its always a suspensful event to witness. Out of all of that night's contestants, I was by far the drunkest. And I looked like a pro! I hopped up on that thing, pitcher still in hand and walked straight across like an Olympic gymnast (mmmm, Olympic gymnast).

After everyone had made it across we all had to start the trip back to the other side. I went after a particularly slow person and had to stop, mid-pipe. Then for some reason I thought, hmm, I wonder what it looks like below me. Then, vertigo. I looked up and lost my balance. I reached out for a nearby tree branch to balance myself. Unfortunately for me I grabbed a sapling and it followed me down. As I fell off the pipe I just remember thinking, "Man, this is gonna suck!" And suck it did. In fact it sucked my shoe right off my foot as I climbed out of the putrid mud and water. I managed to keep my shirt dry, but my pants were soaked and my legs were covered in mud. Not only that, but in freeing myself from the polluted waters of Waller Creek I freed some large pocket of swamp gas that smelled worse than Bigfoot's dick.

To the cheers, laughs, and holy-crap-I-can't-believe-that-just-happened's I emerged from the pipe and made my way across the street back to Posse. In order to remove my newly acquired Swamp-Thing appearance I got permission from the bar manager (Evil) to use the outdoor hose. So there I am at 1:30am in the honey pot of the intersection of San Jacinto and Duval hosing myself down in only my boxers. My clothes, after hosing them off too, were crammed into a trash bag.

In my state of shame and failure, I bummed a ride home from Nicole back to my apartment at the Chi Phi House. Upon arrival, I find the entire fraternity hanging out on the front porch of the house, drinking and playing guitars. As I got out of the truck you could instantly tell who knew me the best out of the group. The younger guys gazed at me with their jaws hanging. The older guys just gave me a smirk and tossed me a beer. Ahhh, good times, good times.

P.S. - I still didn't win the FBS award that week

Did it hurt your first time?

Lemme tell you about the first time I ever drank. I'm not talking like having a sip of daddy's beer or sneaking a glass of champagne at a wedding, I mean down and dirty boozing. I was in high school (a senior believe it or not) and found out one of my buddy Nick was having a party after the homecoming dance. Our whole group headed over there for an all-night shin dig. At first I thought it was a little strange that his mom was voluntarily chaperoning a bunch of minors drinking, but got over it when she made me a screwdriver and a mudslide. In retrospect I see the wisdom behind it all. Anywho, like I said, as soon as we got there we started making drinks. I had never had one so I started with a screwdriver. We were all talking and watching TV in the living room but as more drinks set in we got more rowdy. After a mudslide and a couple of beers we decided to play a couple game s of hide and seek in the neighborhood. But a cop sighting scattered us like a bunch of teenage, paranoid roaches. So we went back inside and started playing drinking games.

I got a little bored and found that my friend had X-Wing vs. Tie fighter on the computer. At this point I had just cracked a bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill and got ready to blast some Imperial swine. I was terrible at it. After a little bit I was turning my head with the screen like a person jerking their hands trying to get Mario to jump farther. My gaming ended when, as I was taking an extended left turn in the game, I leaned too much with the screen and fell right off the chair. My co-pilot, Paul, who was watching over my shoulder had done the exact smae thing. After laughing at ourselves quite extensively, I got into a philosophical discussion with the mom in the kitchen (about what there's no way I can remember).

By now people were beginning to turn in for the night. I finished the Boone's Farm and decided to look for a nice place to crash. I found an empty back room and laid down on the floor. Something was wrong though. The ceiling kept moving. It was spinning, I mean actually spinning, like wheels in Pimp My Ride. So I did what any level headed young man would do, I chased it. So there I am at 1 am running around in circles Three Stooges style trying to catch up with a cieling I'm looking straight up at. Long story short, I lost the race. So I got up and went into the living room and cracked open another bottle of Boone's.

The next morning I wake up to a sea of sleeping bags where the living room floor used to be. The coffee table was a graveyard of beer and Boone's bottles. I had slept on one of those stair-like rises in the floor. My buddy paul was asleep under the coffee table. Everytime we tried to wake him, he would bolt up, hit his head on the underside of the coffee table, and fall back down to sleep some more. Finally, after some Lucky Charms, I went on home. And that's the beginning of my career.