Drunk History: Worth Watching... over, and over, and over...

Don't believe me?
Suck a cock :D
Drunk History Vol. 1 featuring Michael Cera:


Drunk History Vol. 2 featuring Jack Black:


Drunk History Vol. 2.5 featuring Jack Black:


And with that, I present to you...
DRUNK HISTORY VOL. 3 FEATURING OPTIMUS PRIME

Alright, so there's no video, and I wasn't actually drunk when I thought up the idea, nor now, while I'm writing it, but... still.
Fuck you.
Drunk History by ME.

Alright so Andrew Jackson is like 40 years old and he's the chief general of the Tennessee militia, and a judge on the Tennessee supreme court, and he has the best horse in Tennessee, and the most slaves, and he's pretty much an all-around bad-ass. And there's this guy, Charles Dickinson, who, as the name implies, is an all-around son of a dick. And this Dicky guy is young and trying to make a name for himself and he's being a prick, and says some shit about Andrew Jackson, and then Andy's like "You are a coward and a poltroon!" and Charles is like "You are a coward and a poltroon!"
And so eventually, Andrew has had enough, and he' like "Alright... you fucking... poltroon. Let's fucking fight this shit out. You probably dissed my wife, and you definitely dissed me and my bros, so I'm going to duel you, and I'm going to shoot you."
And it takes a while (because he's a puss) but Dickinson finally agrees, and is all like "Bitch, please. I got like 5 times as many bros as you, and I'm pretty much the greatest shot in all of Tennessee, so I'll shoot your old ass and you can suck a nut."
So they go to their arranged dueling place, and they're at 24 yards, right, and Dickinson is really a better shot, so he's real confident, and he draws faster, so he knows he can win.
So one of their guys is all like "Fire!"
And the thing is the Dickinson does shoot first. He shoots Andrew Jackson right in the heart, but the thing about THAT thing is that Jackson is wearing a baggy jacket, so he actually gets shot like an inch away from his heart, and the bullet explodes on his ribcage. And everyone's stunned as shit. Jackson stumbles, corrects his balance, and is staring right at Dickinson, whose jaw is totally floored, by the way. Jackson takes his sweet time to aim and then squeezes the trigger.
Nothing happened, because it was only half cocked, so he cocked it right and then kills Dickinson. He shot him in the heart, and he crumpled to the ground like a dead guy. It actually took him like a day and a half to die, but he still died before his wife got to see him, so it was still pretty hardcore. And Andrew Jackson is still like "If he had shot me in my brain or my heart, I still would've killed him."
Which is probably true. Bullets back then were pretty small and Andrew Jackson was a fiery raging inferno of brutality.
And that is the first time Andrew Jackson killed Charles Dickinson... a man.

Optimus Prime is Apparently Obsessed with Murder... Cannot Recall What Ensues

Apparently, my subconscious that reveals itself only when the conscious is too inebriated to function is obsessed with murder. I don't think that this is much of a surprise (not to me at least) but it makes for... shall we say "entertaining" inter-personal interactions.
Take, for example, last night, when a game of beer pong that I was watching went into overtime. As most people know, you just set up a new rack of 3 cups and play from there. Well, that was not quite to my liking, and I had an alternate solution.

Optimus Prime: "Well there's only one way to settle this."
Everyone else: Vacant expressions and looks of "Duh... overtime."
Optimus prime (oblivious) "Murder fight!"

I'm still not 100% sure what a murder fight IS, per-se, but it certainly has a nice ring to it.
Needless to say, my relatively sound advice was overlooked. Not to be dissuaded, I found other ways to occupy myself with murder. For example, making simple rhyming couplets and putting them to music (in my head): "Punch, fight, kill, bite."
Apparently I also sent out an unknown quantity of text messages that said, simply: "Murder murder murder."
If and when the recipient chose to reply, I sent back a simple "Murder" and apparently that sufficed.

Anyways, thanks to the effects of anterograde amnesia, I can't remember much else, more specifically if I actually did satiate my apparent bloodlust.

What I do know is that I stole a fork and lost my jacket.

Oh, I guess I'll also take this time to introduce the "new" OPID.
Basically you (the reader) gets a new post from a new author everyday. Mondays are mine (obviously), Tuesday's Lazer's, Wednesday Codes, Thursday Mander, Friday The King, and Saturday Adolfo.
Sunday is (for now) a free day, where anyone - or possibly no one - will post. However, sometime in the future we plan on hosting Two Y Chromosomes on Sundays, the much anticipated, probably over-hyped OPID-affiliate web-comic, which is, by the way, authored by Lazer and illustrated by myself.
That's all for now, look forward to new stuff from Lazer tomorrow.

Quick update:

My computers are both fucked; hardrives fried.
I'm in the lab, it's closing in 15 minutes.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. SUCKS DICK.
I don't have class tomorrow (i dropped all but 3, i'm transferring to interpreting)
I'm going to get trashed and watch romance movies alone.
I think that James Bond qualifies as romance.
Mangina is a fun word, and i wish i had an opportunity to use it more frequently.

The moment you'fce all been waiting for!

I/mt drunk again! and in y computer, There's not much to say about tonight aexcrept yhat my roommate's girlfriend was trying to come on to me. iI fdid my besst to deny her advances, and i avoidd puttin gmy penis in or around her. As per usuall i was a self-depricatory motherfucker, opting to instedda make ymself loik like a douhce to randokm girls that might hav otherwise bene fonfd of mel.,


Fuck youre sbhit!
-0 optikmusik pormin,e.

How to tell if your life is pathetic (part 2):

Your life MIGHT be pathetic if:

1. You spend most of your time at parties hustling people to the back of the house because they're drunk and rowdy, AND/OR splitting up drunken Peruvian fights because you passed Spanish 4.
2. You convince a really hot girl to make-out with you, only to willingly give her up to your roommate so that he can partake in a three-way make-out session for no other reason than the fact that you apparently hate yourself and are some sort of make-out-masochist.
3. You stabbed someone with a plastic fork not because you were drunk, but because you probably need medication and aren't on it.
4. You pride yourself on touching unwitting girls' bottoms, but when a girl literally attaches herself to you for no other reason than "she wants to follow you," you shrug her off for no other reason than because you apparently hate yourself and are some sort of sex-masochist.
5. You might actually be considered a smoker, now, considering that you have a favorite brand, can tell the difference between menthols and regular, and you know what kind of cigarettes are for bitches and which are for men.
6. After all that, you still look forward to doing the same thing next Friday, because your life doesn't get much better than that.

Too drunk?

If it exists (I don't think so) I attained it - Beervana, if you will - on Friday. I say this simply because I know I had one hell of a great time, but I remember exactly NONE of it. How do I know I had a great time, you might ask? Well, simply put: photographic evidence. I've never seen a happier picture of myself. Don't let the vomit-caked glasses or disgusting scowl fool you, that's just the face I make when I'm having a good time.
But, since I feel a little guilty about not remembering anything exciting, I can tell you what i had to drink, because that's all I remember.
First, Roommate, [HockeyStar] and I were pre-gaming with Rum & Root Beer (there was no Coke), but not to any great extent. After we got to the party, Roommate and I lost Beer Pong, so I had two beers, and a free shot of vodka someone gave to me. I remember a kid from my floor giving me another shot, something called a Blue Beast (according to the bartender, it's "a little bit of everything and it's blue"). The next thing I remember was a sort of chugging contest (which I won hands-down) in which I downed - quite literally - a quarter of Jack Daniels. I think I lost at Beer Pong again after that, and that's about where I blacked out... I'm sure I drank more, but that's all that I remember.
So... no great blog for today... I swear that next time I'll drink less so I can remember great tales of my antics. PROMISE!

P.S. MASSIVE Lolz at those of you who actually thought I killed myself after reading my last post. Thanks for caring, though.
Dumbasses.

The Best Pick-up Line ever?

I don't know why I just remembered this, but this is one from the night when I saw the two naked girls (Optimus Prime visits more college parties).
Let the record show that I was officially fuck-the-wall drunk (that has no meaning, I just thought it sounds cool), and as anyone who knows me very well will tell you, I become a smoker when highly intoxicated.

Girl: "Does anyone have a cigarette?"
Optimus Prime, without hesitation: "No, but I smoked one, like 5 minutes ago. I'm sure there's still some nicotine on my lips..."
Girl: "Thanks for the porpo... propro... proposition, but no thanks."

I guess that's probably why I didn't remember it. Fuck her, though. If she can't recognize my brilliance at the ability to allude to Shakespeare, even in my inebriated state, she is obviously unworthy.

Also, let it be noted that I was probably too drunk to have gotten an erection, so... yeah... useless.

Tags

As of now, the most used tags are "drunk" (7) and "party" (5).

Considering that there are exactly 30 posts, that means only about 22% of all OPID blogs actually involve being drunk.
There's a problem with this.
The problem being that there're not enough hours in the week for me to achieve maximum inebriation.

Anyways, in unrelated news, I saw Russia in the elevator today. I didn't say anything, because I didn't want to call him out in front of all those strangers, one of whom was probably a teacher.
Also, he got off of the elevator right when I got on. So... yeah. There's that.

I still made everyone in the elevator drink to my health, though. Just for good measure.

5 posts in one day...

Don't expect anymore 'til Christmas.


Just kidding.

I have nothing better to do.

Anyways, I've come to a decision:
I don't think I'm going to go to anymore indie-kid parties. All the girls are too pretentious/self-righteous, and all the guys are too girly.
Last time I went to one I got bitched out because the girl whose shoes I had to put on for her [because she was too drunk to see] were a pain in the ass, and there was a guy in the bathroom crying about how his girlfriend broke up with him.

You think I'm joking, but really... this happened.


oh, also, I'm pretty sure I kicked down someone's door or something, so I think all the indie kids on campus hate me now, too. In my defense, I was too drunk to even remember if I did it (I just remember someone accusing me and me denying it), but i distinctly remember that they DID ask me to help open it. If you're going to ask Optimus prime to help with something, you better be prepared to accept the full consequences of such a request.

So yeah, no more indie friends for me.

Dancing, drinking, and something else that starts with D.

Mander, Chiodo, Ash, Zabe, and I are leaving an after party of a film festival. We decide to go to the beach. As we approach these two girls pass us muttering about how they're going to kick Anthony's ass. Soon after that some sketchy old guy on his cell phone passes us and walks a few yards and stops.

A couple minutes later these two drunks come up to us, our conversation is as follows:

Black Guy: Have you guys seen two girls pass by here?

Me: Yeah, they said something about kicking some Anthony guy's ass.

Black Guy: Oh shit, oh shit! I'M Anthony!

Me: Well, she wants to kick your ass.

Anthony's Friend: Dude! She wants to lick your ass!

Mander: No, she wants to kick his ass.

Anthony's Friend looks at Mander for a full 5 seconds with a "I have no fucking idea what the hell you just said" look and proceeds to dance.

That's right, he just breaks it down, while staring at Mander. Now you must imagine the rest of the conversation with Mander in a staring contest with a dancing drunk.

Anthony: Ok ok, everyone listen (does the huddle up motion but to no avail) the reason they want to kick my ass is because you see that guy over there? (Points to sketchy guy on cell phone) He was, like, stalking them, so I go up to him and tell him that one is a lesbian and one has a boyfriend.

Me: (Humoring him) That sounds reasonable, you want to protect them.

Anthony: Yeah, but they got pissed at me and left. You see, we were supposed to take care of any trouble that went down, I'm strong and he's just fast and strong, but I'm just strong.

It's at this point Anthony's Friend stops dancing and punches Anthony in the side, and then holds his fist up to me, ready to prove how fast he is.

Logically I take a step back.

Anthony: Yo! Sir Dance-a-lot, that doesn't mean hit me!

Sir Dance-a-lot looks at him, with the same "I might as well be a deaf-retarded guy from how much I understood you" look, and I try to help him out by saying:

Me: You DO dance a lot...

He then WHIPS his head around to look at me, and the only look on his face now is one of sheer TERROR.

Sir Dance-A-Lot: You KNOW me?!

Mander: He means from what we've seen of you.

Me: Uhm, whatever, I mean there's a party over there with a bunch of people so I'm pretty sure your friends are safe.

Mander: Yeah, it's just a whole mess of old white people. They're even playing jazz.

Sir Dance-a-lot: I LOVE jazz! (proceeds to dance again)

Zabe (only source of estrogen in our group): Well, if I was your friends I would want you guys to come get me...

Anthony and Sir Dance-a-lot: Oh shit, you're right! See ya!

Me: Good luck!

Ash: That was fucking trippy as shit.

Chiodo: I thought we were going to get our asses kicked.

Optimus rereads drunken blog

Again, I will chose to not censor myself, but instead make a new post with the juicy bits I forgot. For example:
At Party 1, there was a Russian kid. I said "hey you're from Russia, aren't you?"
And the conversation went as follows:
"Yes, I am from Russia and I know that if anyone comes up to me and talks about a random subject I can tell from that conversation the history of mankind."
Yeah, it was pretty intense.
The greatest part about [Russia] was when he couldn't open this beer he was holding. It wasn't a twist off, but if it was, he still probably wouldn't have been able to get it open. Anyways, he tried to give it to a woman to open.
Optimus: "Nigga, please. That's a fucking man's job," and I snatched it from the bitch and opened it with my teeth. There was weird foil around the cap, but I just bit through that, too. Vietnamese people wrap their beers weird. He and the broad and the dude the the broad was with were all sufficiently impressed. I don't know who said it (it might've been me) but the word "hardcore" was definitely mentioned.
[Russia]: "I will make these people drink to your health!"
Optimus: "Yeah, drink to my health!"
Then they did. Even the woman, who was the designated driver* drank to my health.

Then, I can't recall if I mentioned this,but that party was busted up by the 5-0. nothing serious, we just had to leave, and my feel-copping was cut short.

But, I guess if it hadn't been busted up, we would've missed the hot naked chicks... so that's good.

Also, they had a bar at the next party, so I didn't have to sip the disgusting beer they had (Natural Ice, Genny light, queer shit like that) but instead I could drink mixed beverages like a man.
Well, I started with a Cosmo, which is only really manly if I get to make it myself.
But then I had a gin and tonic, because I knew it would fuck me in half.
And then I did a shot of vodka without a chaser because I'm hardcore. Well, actually, that's sorta run of the mill for me and most of my drinking friends from So-Cal, but... like I said... I'm probably the most hardcore person in the state of New York. IT went like this:
[Shooter]: "I'm doing shots! Who wants to do shots?" (points at Optimus) "Do you want to do shots?"
Optimus: "Are they free?"
Shooter: "Sorry man, they're a dollar.'
Optimus: "Fuck that, I've only got a dollar left."
Shooter: "Then do a shot!"
Optimus: "...Fine. What're we doing?"
Shooter: "Anything you want! I'm doing a lemon drop."
Optimus: "Sounds gay."
Shooter: "Do you even know what it is?"
Optimus: "Yeah, isn't it a shot of vodka with a lemon wedge afterwards?"
Shooter: "Hell yeah-"
Optimus "Fuck that, I'll do a straight shot of vodka."
Shooter: "Oh dayum! I want to see this."
And then I did it. No biggie.
Shooter: "Oh shit, dude. That was hardcore."
Optimus: "That was nothing."
High-fives all around for Optimus!! Even the 'bartender' gave me a high-five.
I'm awesome.

The only other noteworthy thing was that I apparently posted a comment on my ex-girlfriends page saying something exactly like:
"Let's fuck and make babies.

Seriously.


... So there's that.

Oh... 1 more thing. Ihe kid I went out with (initially) got too drunk and puked in the sink.
I showered upstairs today.

Optimus Prime visits more college parties

If ythey invented a number that was higher than infinity, thatwould be how many butts on which i copped a feel tnigh at party 1. also, there wasa russian kid, with whom i talked; he said "I know that any subject anoyone talks abouti cantellthe futriure of human kind from that discussion,. then ii opened his beer with my teeth, and he made everyobne toast to my health.

arty 2 i fetlsomeasses,drank a c osmo,a shot o vodka, and ag in and toonic,i'm fucked up.
I chilled with pobably the chi,lest niggazon campus. I'm Black now!!!

they call me Cali.
It'ssicel.


oh. in between parties, wesaw two girls streak buttass naked.
I toucched their breasts.

Addenda (addendum?) to my Saturday post:

While i have decided NOT to edit my wonderfully drunk post from last Saturday evening/ Sunday morning, there are a few things that either 1) I remembered only afterwards, when I was sober, or 2) that happened after the post, yet are still post-worthy. So, without further adoooooo:

First I'd like to say that all the events of last Saturday night's partying required me to be intoxicated by only 8 beers and a shot of coffee liqueur. Before you all say shit like "omgzorz Optimus, did you live your liver in San Diego lolz" I must let the record show that Saturday was also the last day of the I Phelta Thi (or whatever sorority) Red Cross blood drive. So, with the information that I was short a sack or two of blood only makes the fact that I remember in almost perfect lucidity the happenings of that evening even greater testament to my ginormous manhood. I make a CERTAIN physics teacher (whom I don't want to incriminate because he's probably tied for the position of number 1 teacher at my high school) proud.

2) What is likely the highlight of my evening was one of the things that happened latest in the night. As we stood outside the last party waiting for our ride or whatever, my roommate, TheRoommate, was macking with his lady companion of the evening. He announced at some point that he was going to go back to her room, and the conversation proceeded as follows:
TheRoommate "I'm going back to [Girl]'s room, so, uh, I'll see you in the morning."
Optimus "Ooohh... sex."
The Roommate "Haha, yeah we're going to snuggle."
Optimus (obscene hand gesture)
TheRoommate (laughs)
[Girl] "Oh my god that's so gross!"
TheRoommate "Haha, you're drunk."
[Girl] "Haha, yeah..."
They start to kiss again.
Optimus "Remember, TheRoommate... Date rape is illegal."
The Roommate(laughs)
[Girl] (blank stare)

3) Another note-worthy event (the hilarity of that pun will get you in a couple of lines) was what happened just after I posted the initial blog.
My initial plan was just to sleep on the floor. The dorms here at RIT all have bunk beds, and... well, I just didn't see that fairing well. Note: I live in upstate New York now (dhur) so it's cold as shit. And TheRoommate had left his window open all day and night, meaning that at the time I decided to finally pass out, it was probably close on 40 degrees in our room.
Since it was cold as shit, I grabbed the nearest thing to me, using it as a blanket. Ahh, beauticious. Seconds away from unconsciousness, I realize that I'm probably a bit of a spectacle there, lying in the middle of the floor, wrapped in my bath towel, and that the logical thing to do would be to leave a note for my roommate when he happens upon me in the morning. So I clumsily rise, grab a sheet of printer paper and scrawl on it in Sharpie: (note: this is verbatim)
"Dear TheRoommate:
Just kick me in the face. I probably deserve it.
Fuck your Shit
- Optimus."
I lay back down and, not wanting to display this proudly on the door for my RA (who lives in the room next door) to discover. Did I mention that I live in the substance free dorm? Because I do.
Anyways, there I am, lying on the ground, under my towel, with this note placed delicately on top of it all. And after all that effort, I realize that it's unavoidable that my RA will use his master key to come into my room and discover me like this so he can document me. Drunk-logic is amazing, isn't it? Not only is that totally against the rules, but my RA just isn't that intrusive or mean. Anyways, I toss the note, hang up my towel, and crawl clumsily into the shaky bed to crash (only figuratively, fortunately) and wake up at noon the following day.
Good times.

4) Last, and also probably least; I wore a pretty generic "Oh shit it's cold and I'm in a bitchy mood and about to get drunk outfit": my normal clothes topped with a black hoodie and my skeleton-hand gloves. It was at the last party that some relatively drunk dude asked me, seemingly out of nowhere what kind of music I'm into.
Optimus (at the top of my lungs) "SKA!!"
[Dude] "Haha, cool. I was kinda worried that you were like, emo or something."
Optimus "FUCK THAT SHIT."
Anyways, I guess that this guy overheard me. Hes all like
"DUDE I LOVE SKA!! YOU HAVE TO LET ME KNOW WHEN THERE ARE SKA SHOWS IN ROCHESTER!!"
So I get his name and number, and tell him about how he missed the $1 ska show he missed on campus the night before.
He nearly threw a pissy fit. But he was one of those drunks that never stops smiling. ... Fuck you, you had to be there. I thought it was hilarious, and so did TheRoommate.
Oh, also, there was a guy that was wearing a Rancid sweater at the same party. I commented on it, we started talking about which albums we liked, and seemingly out of nowhere, he asked if I like the Aquabats. I unzip my shirt to reveal my Aquacadets shirt, and he unzips his sweater to reveal an MCBC shirt. It was sick, AND unexpected.

Optimus Prime visits his first-ever college party; types drunk.

As 9i type tyhis, i'm smashed off my face. Not quite smashed offmy ass, so i guess on the tucker max scale that means i'm pretty much fucked in half. Anyaways, tponight i went o my fitrst college party.Well, actually, first 3 college parties. so i guess i'll recant those to you.

Party one: i got a ride from a broad in a ford focus. we had 6 peopleand 4 seats/ My roommate was hooking up with the one girl on campus for whom i'd cut mu dick off to have sex qith. That's pleasant, so i mumble about how id like to kill everyon uner my breath. When we get to the party, i down a beer, and then proceed to play a drinking game involving cards called Mr. Dickhead. Obviously, i win, and down 3 beerz during the course of the game. Some dick tries to coax us out of our money to ;'buy more beer' and i bitch,
we get our money back, and as we're kleaving, i pee in his bathroom sink. Take that, Fucker!
[
partyuc2: nothing. we leave, and i'm the only one with more liquor in his system: io chug some cofee liquuerr. GROSS, but alcoholic.

Pary 3: we drove around a boit to find it, but we did, eventually. Turns out, this one's on campus. Anyways, i drink acouple [dozen]more nbeeers and get fucked in half. Undoubtedly, i curse out some bitches, kick some stuff (tiurns out the bike chained to the front porch belongs to one of the kids throwing the party;... ooops.); anyways, eventually i'm so drunk that i hate everything more than before. That's usually a bad sign. I moke too sgharettes, without takingeither ut of my mout.. I bet i look cool when i do it. In my defense, at least i fijnsidhed the,.. WWehn the bitch (tyyeah, she was a women fdriver, but atl lesast sehw was sober...) drives me home, i get out befroe the car stops, and i sahout "Thanks, fat bithc," bedfore storming to my room to type this. Ih vane;t looked at the screen since i typedthis, mostly for comedic affet. So.... enjoy. I'll probably post another versioj tommoroow morning when i'm sober so that yuo can actually undersand what i'm tyuping. Bitches.

Optimus Prime is Deceived.

It started a while back, on the Wednesday afternoon that I first decided to try gin, and consequently blacked out behind a local grocery story at four o'clock in the afternoon, lost my best hat, and had my description phoned into the police. But that's not really the important part of this story. The important part is that I was with a couple of people, one of whom was a semi-attractive (maybe a high 3) girl - from here-on-out we'll call her TheDecepticon - who found my antics endearing, and I guess that I got her phone number.

Well, I decided to finally take TheDecepticon up on her offer to hang out again sometime last week (it's summer break, I couldn't remember the day of the week for the life of me) with the impression that this was... you know, a sure thing. If you found anyone that wouldn't mistake what she was doing for begging to be sexed, I'll eat my own hat. So, I skateboard down to the beach, and we're hanging out, innocent chatting, and what I still would swear was massive amounts of flirting from her. At some point one of TheDecepticon's homeless friends (we were hanging out with a bunch of them, that should've been the first omen I observed) obtained a space bag (i.e. plastic sack filled with cheap wine), a bottle of Jim Beam, and one of those cheap-ass 3-litres of cola. We start to drinking, and nothing happens for a while. At one point four of us (me and the girl included) go back to the store and buy 3 40s, one for me, and one for each of the other two guys. We get back to the beach and the drinking continues.

(Skipping to the good part...) So, I guess I finish my forty, get ripped off, but buy another can of Budweiser from a douche bag, and am too drunk to notice that I'm sucking on an empty hash pipe when I decide to pee. That in itself was a relatively unexciting venture, except that, where we are on the beach is essentially a little cave, and I travel to the back of the cave to pee, only to be surprised by a tourist walking through the other side (i.e. from the back to the front) of the cave to discover me peeing in what would have otherwise been an ideal Kodak spot. It was about this time I offered to punch a girl in the face for saying that she didn't like alcohol, and I told another girl (call her Sandwich) to make me a fucking sandwich - loudly. And repeatedly. Also, I don't remember if this was a personal thought or an outside voice kinda thing, but I think I mentioned the word nigger when a black girl showed up. And it was this point that I realised that TheDecepticon is gone. Apparently to fetch her cell phone, but still.

By the time I worked up the resolve to go find her, she's back, and making out with Sandwich.

This will not do. They may be the only people making out, but if there's anyone being the only one being macked on at a party, it should be me. I deserve it for being... Well... Great. So I unsubtly drop a line like "Hey... You wanna make out with me, too?" and Sandwich even comes back with, "Yeah, why don't you make out with him?" I think I'm in, I'm drunk, happy, and with a girl that's been nearly begging to see me for weeks. But get this: TheDecepticon says "I don't want to!" What the fuck? No-one just doesn't want to make out with Optimus P. so obviously the broad's got brain damage, which is a total turn-off. But still, my sure-thing just plummeted to retarded prude in less than a second. You've all heard about my reverse beer goggles (girls get less attractive the more I drink), well, this high 3 just gained about 150 lbs and the ground shakes as she walks away from me. I'm also assuming that all of you know about what happens when Optimus gets drunk and angry.

Sure, it starts innocent enough, throwing around empty bottles of beer at the rocks near people's heads, cussing out the pussies that "don't wanna walk on broken glass," kicking sand on people who are sitting down and their barbecues. But I can go from 0 to raging asshole in the time it takes for Richard Gere to make a woman orgasm. That is, REALLY FUCKING QUICKLY. I somehow managed to climb out of the cave, find more beer, open them WITH MY TEETH (a skill I developed that very night, possible the only positive consequence of my self-destructive alcoholic behavior), drain them, and throw them at more people.

I storm off, and start my trek to my grandma's house; shit-faced, pissed off, and alone. I blacked out before I could even make it to the street, but I'm guessing that I didn't get arrested. The only part of the story worth mentioning after that was that around 8:30 (i.e. after dark) I am close to my grandma's house, but not on a road that I recognize. Thanks to my extraordinary internal compass, I figured that I could get back on track by trodding through someone's yard.

FUCKER HAS A FENCE.

Alright, no big deal, toss my skateboard over, drunkenly clamber over, I'm good, right? WRONG. I'm in someone's VERY enclosed backyard, about 10 feet from the back door LIGHTS ON, FAMILY STARING AT ME FROM THE KITCHEN. No biggie, I just repeat the process, toss my skateboard over, drunkenly clamber over, I'm good, for real, right? WRONG AGAIN. Apparently, someone thought it would be fun to plant a bunch a cardboard strips in the ground, lash 'em together and call it a fence. That's about how stable that piece of crap was. Took me about 3 tries to get my drunk ass over, and in the end I ended up flat out falling. But, it was in the street, and I probably landed on my head because I blacked out again at that point, but I was over.

I regained consciousness as I neared my grandma's house, and slapped myself a few times to sober up, but I wasn't too worried, she's pretty much oblivious. The only thing worth mentioning about that was when I decided that should brush my now sweater-clad teeth, but she was already in the bathroom. Still too drunk to stand up straight, I popped a seat on the stool she had just outside the bathroom, in the kitchen (don't ask me why). When she exited she jumped a bit when she saw me and said "Jesus, Optimus, you startled me."

My reply: "No. The dog startled you."

Yeah, my dog was standing next to me, it seemed like the right thing to say. Blame the dog.

I'm still trying to figure out what relevance it had.

Anywho, it's about a week later now, and my hands and elbows are still pretty fucked up, presumably from when I fell over the fence. And whenever I peel of a scab and start bleeding and cussing, I blame the bitch who deceived me.

Fuckin' cow-ass prude.