i'll tell you who's stupid. you, stupid.

so this past friday i was able to attend the weekly soccer match of the ever-so-gay soccer squad, "castle gray poop." i kid, of course. i was invited to watch my friends run around and sweat after a soccer ball while i sat on the sidelines eating condor eggs.


the game started off per usual, with josh humping the ball, seth calculating the rate of josh's thrust divided by the speed of sheena's good looks, and chris sat in the corner dropping acid (or as he likes to say, "having sex with whores").


as the game proceeded the action intensified. josh, however, found an undying interest in a pile of bags. he refused to sub back into the game, and as a result his squad had to forfeit. don't worry josh, i would have done the same.


"you don't get it gilhouse! these are samsonite bags! samsonite!"



after the game i had to have a urination-chew, and this is where i had to do it. i guess i haven't had to use one of these portable "johns" for a while, and i may be exaggerating here, but man-alive was this a terrible experience. and thank goodness i didn't have to sit on the "seat", because oh golly, it would have burned a hole straight through to my stomach and given my butt smell cancer. although i was i this facility for less than one minute, i constantly had to breath into my armpit and bask in the warm basking glow that is my old spice scent. and even through this i thought i would die from an overdose of bad smell! it was if the hobo on the corner had buried his army of raccoons in there. if that's the case, then i suppose this was awesome.


after my trip to the vomitorium we all huddled into a subway car and off we went to a bar off flatbush where...


seth and josh discovered the product known as beer.


fly my pretties! fly!


the following night we went to a sauna party where the name of the game was to sweat out the beer while you drank. we also congratulated claire for not failing the GRE. well done, claire! you'll be a doctor yet! now we just need to tackle your percodan addiction.


we showed up with a few giant budweisers, and there was a nice array of snacks provided. i had the hooker.


and then we moved on to the red stripes. in this pic my beer is telling me, "there are no rules in this place; it's thunderdome!"


in the bathroom there was the common home product we all know and love, "du-bang." man, do i love my du-bang. i have one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and if i'm feeling a bit frisky, a few at night. ok, so now that i have said this, i must say that i really don't know what a "du-bang" is. and don't give me that "flexible fabric bandage crap", because that's too easy. i want a real answer for why this product is called du-bang. josh?



after i ate the box of du-bang i returned to find chris undressing. the night ended creepy as shit when chris showed the creature that lives in his chest. god, that's hilarious.

actually, the funny end of the night came when someone barfed into their hands in the kitchen. i tried not to notice, but i did notice and i thought it was great. i remember times in the past when i discretely regurgitated beer onto myself and tried to play it off as if i had sneezed. it's a classy move.

as a side note: when i was spell-checking this post i realized that i misspelled "feeling." ok, thanks blogger for letting me know. what do you suggest as a proper spelling? what's that? you suggest "beluga?" what the hell?