The weekend I killed my liver: Part Two

So an hour and a half after I got home from Sherbs' wedding, I had to be at Steph's house ready to get my drink on. Again. On the drive there I just kept thinking, "What the hell am I doing. I am too old for this, and this is so unhealthy. Everything about this is so wrong." Then we got to the party, and I was like, "Why the hell haven't I ever been to this before. I am young and healthy. Everything about this is so right."

The party is called Krusty's Summer Sauce Camp. You pay $40 and from noon to 8pm you go to Whiskey Island Marina, get all you can eat food, all you can drink beer, Bacard Breezers for $1, listen to live music and hang out with freaking awesome people. And all the proceeds go to charity. I really wasn't sure what to expect, but when we got there and saw all the drunk (pretty) people, and we were right by the lake and seriously you could drink and eat anything you wanted, Steph and I were like, "This might be the greatest thing ever."

My mom asked me the next day, "So noon to 8pm. Like what did you do all day?" The truth is I don't remember. We just kind of sat around and hung out and talked to awesome people and drank. There was this awesome game called the bat race where teams of about 10 people compete against each other. It's a relay race and each person chugs a beer, runs down the field to a guy holding a baseball bat, puts his or her forehead on the bat and spins around 10 times then they have to run back. It might have been the funniest thing I have ever seen especially considering they smartly started it later in the afternoon after most people were already drunk, and Gordo and Loyd were in it. They both fell on their asses, and Steph has pictures of it. I almost burst a blood vessel laughing.

Then in the early evening, The Websters played. The Websters are a band out of Cincinnati that are pretty big around Ohio. Mostly because they are hands down the best cover band I have ever heard. This is the original reason we decided to go to the Krusty party. And we were not disappointed. Once they started playing, it was all over. I mean as far as our little group retaining any sense of dignity whatsoever. Awesome music, limitless drinks, Blo-Pops (which they were giving away and which I stole about 20 of), my high school friend and his way drunk brothers-these are all things that make a deadly and hilarious combination. When we first started our insane dancing, we actually drew a crowd. I'm serious. People were standing around the perimeter watching us. Then slowly they started to join in because come in-there is nothing more fun than drunk dancing.

I remember around 4:30 or so I was like, "Hey-I'm not even that drunk. This is cool. I'll just chill out all day and then I can go home relatively sober." That lasted for about a half hour. Honestly I didn't think I was that bad until a) I saw everyone the next day and they were like, "Oh man you were awesome yesterday. Everytime I saw you, you had a new drink. How are you feeling?" which is never a good sign and b) Steph's pictures got sent to me. I had forgotten the picture where I walked around backstage to stand behind the band's roadie who was passed out in one of those plastic tubs and give the thumbs up. I had forgotten the picture of me dancing with one of my friend's drunk brothers. And I had forgotten the picture taken of me drinking in the cab. That's pretty legal, I think.

After 8 hours of drinking in the sun, we were pretty tired so we immediately went to the after party at another bar. At 3pm I had said, "Yeah this is early so I'm just going to go home after the party ends at 8pm." At 8pm I was saying, "Oh my God I NEVER want this to end. Let's go to the after party!" And luckily my lovely cohorts were right there with me. From what I can remember at the bar, Matt bought us a round (thanks, Matt) then made fun of me for drinking an amaretto sour in two sips, Steph made every guy who passed by us shake his butt, Christy got hit on by a kid with a backpack (though he was super cute and totally played along with our lame jokes i.e., "So do you have class after this"?), and Meg got hit on by a guy who, when trying to convince me of his good intentions, said, "I'm a really nice person. I go to church. I mean I also sell drugs and steal from the elderly, but that's cool, right?" Yeah. I loved that guy.

Next year all of you-near and far-are coming to this. And we will take more pictures with people passed out in giant plastic tubs.