Like all good things these days, it started on MySpace. Steve had his date, I had mine. I don't drink for the simple reason that I fucking hate the taste of alcohol. It tastes like poison to me. That night I had absolutely no plans to get drunk. Ha. Steve was focused on making a good impression on this girl, Lura. He met her on MySpace and this was their first time meeting. Some people get weird about meeting people "from the internet", but if you ask me, its just as bad as meeting someone at Park City, or the CHA, or the hospital. The internet, MySpace is a safer bet because for one thing, you get all this persons information upfront, what school they went to, their height, weight, if they're single or not, who they're friends with, etc etc. Anyone who calls the MySpace Movement pathetic just doesn't know what they're doing. MySpace is like any good tool, it is what you make of it. If you have stupid dipshit friends leaving you lame picture comments then that's your own damn fault.
Separation came; Steve was upstairs meditating, or masturbating, something upstairs in his room. The fridge was full of alcohol, beers and TV dinners. They would all be consumed very soon. I was alone in his living room waiting for these girls to show. Once again, Steve had Lura, and I had Lindsay. I was briefed on the situation earlier, I had even sent her a note, which she sent a nice little reply to, I wasn't expecting too much in terms of excitement that night, that was, until I answered the door.
I swung the door open as I heard the faint knock. The first thing I remember about Lura was that she had an amazing rack. Later, Lindsay and I would talk about Lura'a rack. Lindsay's rack was fine, but it wasn't anything to write home about. What can I say? I love boobs. They're kind of a prerequisite; I won't date any chick with a flat chest. I just have to stay true to myself. First impressions are very important, the first living image of me they would ever see, would be me violently swinging a door open and yelling "Heyyyyyyyyyy" just like Chad I. Ginsburg from CKY had done at the show at the Cha, months before. It breaks the ice, it knocks you off guard when someone's already hyper and energetic and excited, just from opening a door. This maniac burst of energy was me. They were the surprised girls on the other side of the door. Hopefully all awkwardness was gone?
I'd introduced myself, and we went looking for Steve, of course, simply walking up stairs into Steve's room was boring. I had to make a game out of it, so I directed them to sneak up the steps to Steve's room, where I kicked in the door. I was honestly expecting to see him in there, pants down, finger in his asshole, checking his prostate. He wasn't doing anything except....sitting there. Maybe he was very focused or something. To this day I have no idea what he was doing, or why he was up there. Lura and Steve ended up hanging out alone upstairs, I figured they just wanted to make out, which was understandable, we were some fairly attractive teenagers without a care in the world. Plus, in Lancaster, there really isn't too much to do besides socialize and terrorize. It doesn't have the windows and doors of New York; it's the tumbleweed city for anyone under 21.
The first thing I noticed about Lindsay was that she was dressed in a very weird way. Not weird like, "who the fuck is this?" weird, but weird like "individually stylistic" weird. Understand? She was beautiful though, and I remember me being brash and cocky enough to simply ask her if she wanted to make out. This was before we started drinking, mind you. Later I would hear that everyone swore I was drunk, but I swear, I wasn't drunk until after me and Lindsay had oral sex in Steve's basement. If you're reading this now, then I apologize. The truth is, that night when we were together, I didn't expect too much from you. If I had known things would have unfolded they way they did, then I would have tried to make our first kiss more special than on Steve's fucking couch.
So basically we go from making out on Steve's couch/ livingroom floor, to doing shots in his kitchen. Up into this point of my life, I had never done more than a sip of alcohol and maybe had a few Heinekens or some shit like that. However, we were doing shots with chasers, my chaser was Pepsi, or Coke, or Mr. Pib or something, it was some black soda. I do remember that. I have no idea what alcohol we were drinking, does it matter? It all tastes like shit anyway, spare me, boozehounds and alcobumbums, it doesn't matter to me. We do our couple of shots and I'm fine, we go up and check on Steve and Lura, and they're cuddling watching blues clues or some shit. Everything was fine.
We go down to the basement, Steve's basement is a hellhole, there are a million open bottles of Pepsi there from like, 1963 and a ton of old porno magazines. His computer was also down there, and we checked out MySpaces while I lay on Steve's beanbag chair. Lindsay played some Morningwood and proclaimed that they were her favorite band. I really tried to get into them but they do absolutely nothing for me. Out of respect for you, I won't say they suck, I'll say that I don't like them. Ironically enough, Lindsay had gotten a friend request from a girl that I had actually had sex with on that previous Easter Sunday. True story. Small City.
I think I actually started getting drunk at this point, because Lindsay and I ended up making out again. Except this time, clothes started coming off, and I'm pretty sure we would have had sex if Lindsay wasn't a virgin. Instead of having sex, I ate her out. I barely remember this. However, I do remember doing a great job, because she was really into it. She flat-out refused to give me head though, she was obviously more sober than I was, so I kind of ended up standing there holding my dick. The clothes went back on, and we went back upstairs to check on Steve and Lura. At this point of the night, I was more than a little buzzed; I actually ended up falling over a table and landing on Steve and Lura's collective lap. I didn't know this at the time, but Lindsay really didn't want to be alone with me at this point but Lura was oblivious. So Lindsay and I went back downstairs.
For the record, if that situation was with someone who wasn't me, as in, Lura and Steve had left Lindsay with some random psycho, then yeah bad shit could have happened. Luckily for everyone, I'm not a random psycho. It is odd to me though that Lindsay couldn't tell Lura that she didn't want to be alone with me, and also odd that Lura would just leave her alone with me because she was watching Kickboxer 2 with Steve. I didn't realize it at the time, but shit like that happens all the time. Girls get raped because they get drunk and fuck around and their friends don't really give a shit, or they do but they're too scared to do anything about it. I think Lindsay wasn't sure about me or what I would do, considering this was the first time we ever met and just 10 minutes before, I had my lips on her vagina.
We're making out again on Steve's floor in front of his bigscreen plasma television. Lindsay is an amazing kisser, I'm thinking, and then something weird happens. The room starts spinning and I'm fucked up and dizzy and I don't know what's happening. How much did I drink? Was I drunk? This, ladies and gentlemen is what drunken college kids call "The Spins".
I tell Lindsay, "I'm gonna throw up." she says, "Can I watch?"
I ended up standing directly to the right of the toilet, throwing up loudly and violently. My puke was black from all those sodas, I aim my black dead puke from mouth to the toilet but it ends up all over the floor and the walls. I end up laughing loudly. The girls end up leaving without really saying goodbye. I take my shirt off again and slouch down by the toilet; everyone else is fine of course. I puke all over my pants and Steve throws them away and gives me a pair of his Dickies which I still have to this day. He breaks out the camera and films me groaning and spitting up into the toilet, the clips end up on youtube.
From this part, I remember crawling out of the bathroom and down the stairs like that bitch from The Ring. I crawl from the stairs to the couch, and since my stomach was totally empty, Steve made me some of those great TV dinners. I can't eat the first one, so it just sits out for the rest of the night; I wake up in the morning, cook another one, and eat the old one too.
I forget the rest.