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23

Apr

The Adventures of Panama Shitty Beach

I would first like to start by thanking baby jesus that none of us died during this “vacation” I use the word vacation cautiously because I did massive amounts of work on 12 handles through out the week, squeezed 24 girls in a two bedroom villa (not including nightly shackers that may or may not have legitimately moved in) funneled more beers than I can count, and slept on a deflated air mattress every night. We were prepared to do extremely unforgivable things for 7 days straight.

Upon I arriving to the beach I was greeted with a black out. Dancing at the bar doing my thing, getting naked and going in the ocean, wait what? Anyway! Setting my alarm for 9:00 am to start drinking copious amounts of alcohol is the only way to do it. But first, I must fuel myself with Reeces Puffs, obviously out of a solo cup. Chasing the cereal down with a shot of Burnette’s GOOD MORNING YALL. Setting up camp on the beach, the sun is shining and the liquor is flowing. Too many horrid things happened during the week so I will give my top FIVE stories.

An Evening With Mr. Tipsea - Getting hammered at the beach has its draw backs. The sun gets to you just as much as the alcohol and before you know it you can’t feel your face. One after noon I decided to head back and shower before all the rest animals got back to the house. Mid shower, fucking Chaco, rips open the shower curtain screaming her head off that she wants to shower too. I have never heard anyone slur in such a way.  I started calling her a lesbian and to get out but she started screaming and pouring shampoo all over the shower. Of course she’s hogging all the water so I called her a lesbian one more time and got out. After she showered and funneled another 3 beers she was begging me to take her out to dinner. We roll up to this “seafood buffet” that we heard was pretty cheap. The “restaurant” smelled like dead asians and throw up and it was filled with horrifying looking sea animals and styrofoam plates.. this could not be a real establishment. Chaco looked like she was going to throw up so we ran out of the door. We pulled into another place that looked a little safer called Mr. Tipsea’s. I asked for a 5 person table and Chaco made a run for the bathroom, yacking several times before returning to the table. Our waitress looked equally as drunk and took 15 minutes to give us water.. Chaco continues to scream “are you fuckin me!?’ at the drunk waitress while she takes her good ol time. Next I watched Chaco demolish a whole basket of fried pickles which were not hers.. and then gracefully try to eat ranch with her hands. Her next course, which took another 25 minutes, consisted of a fried shrimp sand which, my sand which, 4 containers of tartar sauce, and her napkin. The check took another 20 minutes.. so Chaco used this time wisely with a nap. Casual. Once she woke up she yelled “are you fucking me” once more at the waitress before we finally left our 3 hour dinner excursion. Upon returning home she ran to the nearest bed room and passed out immediately. Little princess was awoken by Tennessee’s finest Swiper Boy 3 hours later, but that is a whole different story.

Jump Around- Alright this story would have been a hell of a lot funnier if I wasn’t self diagnosed with food poisoning 6 hours prior. I blame it on the crab cakes at some god awful road side restaurant, but it could have been the sandy warm beer and salt water I had been funneling all day. Anyway as i gracefully laid my head in the toilet for 6 hours and counting with cotton balls stuffed into my ears I heard a familiar song getting louder and louder down stairs. Mind you, it is 5:45 am. I went down stairs to get some water and there are 29 screaming, shirtless men in our living with the lights off. They are climbing on the sofas, jumping on all over the place, and screaming like fucking indians. The song ends and one guy gets up and goes “yall know what I wanna hear? JUMP AROUND!” and then the awful tune starts blaring through the speakers again. There were only about 5 girls standing in the living room watching them in shock. After about the 9th time the girls started to get a little bit upset. Someone started pulling out the unrolling the pull out couch in an effort to kick out the crazy guys. They played the song another time and ignored us, continuing to chant JUMP and destroy our living room.. then they all started giggling and high fiving and stumbled out of our back door. Finally, the music was off, I could throw up in peace. I go up back to the bedroom I was sleeping in earlier and there is a condom tied to the door.. Cute right? My bed was taken, casual. So I went to sleep on a deflated air mattress. I wake up to Kitty yelling at the guy sleeping next to her.. “why are your pants off!?” he grunts and doesn’t reply… she yells again “why are you all wet!” that can only mean one thing, Bed Wetter. Kitty is stuck in between Nig Tits, who is passed the fuck out and her shacker friend who had just recently peed the bed.. and i just laid on my deflated air mattress laughing my ass off. Nig tits wakes up and goes “wait… I slept with a guy who pissed himself and didn’t even get laid… where is my party cup?” The moral of the story is …. we win. Apparently the house that let the song Jump Around play on repeat the most times in a row while the Pike guys moshed in their living room wins. We always win.

Yeah we rented a stripper, What of it? - Happy Hawaiian shirt Monday Y’all! Next thing I know I’m black out.. But this day got weird, like really weird. I spy Seattle funneling liquor and I start to fear for her 110 pound life. Oh well. Team Meatball, Let’s do it, and I join her in funneling mixed drinks. It’s only about 1 pm, but it’s 5 o clock somewhere… we can barely stand.. I think I’m going to throw up so I go dunk my head in the ocean. Walking back up to the group I can’t find Seattle.. I figure she passed out somewhere so I don’t look very hard.. A boy comes up to me looking very alarmed and asks me if we hired a stripper..I didnt answer at first.. I was so confused.. I didnt even know where the nearest strip club was.. Nor did I have any intention in the past 2 days of renting a stripper for our house. The boy turned around and pointed to the row of villas, and there sure was a stripper up on the top balcony.. but it was Seattle. i thought about going to get her off the deck for a second, but then i figured i would be a good friend and let her have her fun. She was waving her Hawaiian shirt around like a fuckin helicopter, perfect form. I guess she got tired of that move and switched to her go to move; face down ass up, hands on the ground, hands on the ground. To many this is not nearly acceptable at social functions, Seattle took her level of inappropriate to a record high. What of it? People continued to point in awe, but accepted it because we’re on motherfucking spring break right? She disappears for awhile then I see her and her dancing man friend run across the villa balconies, him in a towel, and her in her Hawaiian shirt.. What? Anyway then I passed out in the sand somewhere and woke up to her standing over my face complaining about welts on her knees…. normal…. But i figured that was the least of her worries since the entire Greek Community of Tennessee was convinced she was a certified stripper. That’s my room mate.

TO BE CONTINUED ……

Sorry this has taken me so long to revisit. anyway… where was I

Jail Bait - Another drunken day, time for my afternoon nap. I climb into one of the beds, extra sandy, and pass out immediately. I wish I dreamt this, but it actually happened. I felt someone shaking me awake whispering my name. Eyes half closed, mildly drunk, i sat up asking her what she wanted. She tossed me her phone, bent over, and hiked her bikini up her ass and informed me to take her picture. Before I could even process the request Black Out Barbie came crashing through the door practically begging to take the picture. So i let the blond babes have their fun sending nudey pics to each other and went back to sleep. “COPS!” I woke up a lot quicker for that and stumbled to the bed room over looking the beach. 2 enormous cubans in bullet proof life jackets swarmed Seattle. They seemed to have just arrived ashore from their homeland extremely eager to make their first arrest. Lesby spotted the “cops” like a hawk and made a run for it. She may or may not have ran straight towards them, but thats besides the point. The real fact of the matter, she was still gripping her smart bottle of vodka, and didn’t spill a drop. Project Citation Nation was in full affect. But wait! Black Out Barbie to the rescue? What could be her plan you might ask? “Look yall it’s fine. I just ate a loaf of bread… and then threw it all up… I can blow breathalyzers for everyone here. Just show me the cops. Show them to me.” I told her to slur a little harder and then maybe she could scare them away. Then she passed out. In the real world.. both girls were crying, with new 200 dollar tickets and a killer hangover. Moral of the story ladies, stick to nudey pics not cuban cops.

The Last Supper- The storm started brewing early on our last day.. we drank to that, we drank a lot. Someone had to finish the remaining alcohol in the villa. Broke out the funnels at 9, filling them with 4 lokos, liquor, anything but beer. Chopped up the fresh watermelon that had been mangled with vodka the night before. Drained the margarita buckets that were 94% tequila. Took a couple body shots, why not? Crawl to the beach roll around in the waves one last time, until we looked up and the sky was black as hell. The wind started whipping and the rain poured down in buckets. We were shit faced, sandy, and soaking wet running back to the villa. Call Me Maybe blared in some speakers we stole and we were throwing beach chairs around the living room. Lesby jumped up on the balcony, dancing around screaming, loving life.. until the balcony turned into her own personal slip & slide. Some slut yelled “don’t drop your cup on our side” as she fell 10 feet to her death. Wack. And then there she was … laying in the sand… nearly destroying her vagina on the balcony as she basically straddled it before falling into the sand. Yes it was dramatic. Men ran in every direction to help her up. Some just because they wanted to talk to Lesby the Goddess, other because we thought her legs were broken. Dramatic, but she bounced right back up and housed another shot. The party continued for a few more hours.. hours in which i couldnt recall even if you had a gun up my ass.. Little Chaco tucked me into our air mattress and we took turns scratching each other’s back until we fell asleep. Then the sliding glass door flew open and a man ran in screaming. He wanted beer, cigarettes, and Lesby, and apparently he wasn’t leaving until he had all three. We kicked him out 4 times. Then I turned to Chaco and mumbled “did you hear that?” She looked towards the stairs and we both took off running to the second floor. The man was hanging from the balcony screaming “LESSSSSSBYYYYYYYY” like he was from fucking Street Car Named Desire with a cigarette burning in his mouth and a beer in one hand screaming “LESSSSSSSBYYYYYYY” I couldnt tell if it was romantic or absolutely fucking insane. I pushed him off the deck, and that was the end of that. 

Just kidding. Lesby drug him away by his ear and I never heard from that maniac again.