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Liquor Allergies

We all have that one drink we simply cannot stand.

The very smell of it makes your intestines twist and you feel sick. There is no rational explanation but you hate it with every cell in your body.

But it wasn't always like this. Once you were great friends.

Once you had great, loving times together.

Yet all it took was one night to change everything.

That one night when you and I became nemesis.

This is the story of that night.

This is the story of how I became allergic to minty shots.


It is summer and my good friend Gamer tried to convince me to go to this girl’s birthday party. I told him there is no fucking way I’m going. You see there was a massive hook that he didn't mention until the same day, for a very good reason.

It was a shot party.

A shot party is exactly what it sounds like; a party where you only drink shots. This means no beer.

Whip me bloody, kick me in the balls, make me watch desperate housewives; just let me have my beer while you’re doing it.

Even shitty beer is still beer. I cried in my sleep when I had to go from drinking Czech beer to drinking Bud Light in college, but I still drank it. Admittedly with a beer bong strapped to my head; drink or suffocate. Here I was thinking women was the best motivation.

It’s not that I don’t like shots. I love shots. Especially when handing them out to innocent ladies. Over the years I've learned that there is nothing less innocent than a wasted girl.

Drinking nothing but liquor however reminds me of when I was a younger and dumber. Yes I know it's hard to believe, but over the years I've actually become vaguely smarter.

When I was young my best friend and I used to share a imported bottle of vodka time to time. Our plan was that this would make people think we were super cool bad-asses. We all been there; when you're a idiot thinking that drinking a lot will impress people. Come to think of it I might still be there.

We dreamt of how everyone would bow to our new found supremacy of the ethanol species. Unless you're a idiot or a Mormon we both know that it didn't plan out according to plan. Instead of having everyone adore us for our awesomeness we spent the reminder of that night bathing in a puddle of puke, tears and promises of never to drink again. I was fourteen.

It also has another key side effect: Insanity.

Having me drink nothing but hard liquor is about as good of an idea as giving red bull to a baby. We will both run around naked, pass out naked and try so suck on a few to many titties.

Brostory “There is no way I’m going to that party. The world will end before I do.

Gamer “Okay. Well that’s too bad. The hostess is really hot.

Brostory “ Doesn't matter. I control where this body goes, hot women does not.

He shows me her picture. She is gorgeous.

Brostory “You're driving.

Gamer “We’re taking a cab.

Brostory “You’re paying.

Gamer "We split the fare."

Brostory "OK, but I have shotgun."

Gamer "Fine."

Little did we know that if I only I had been sitting in the back, this night would have gone way differently.


As the taxi pulls up Gamer and I got into a a small disagreement.

Gamer “Why did you bring beer? I told you it’s a shot party. I got enough Minty for the both of us.

We get into the taxi.

Brostory “It’s a party. At parties you drink alcohol, then you do regretful things. Beer contains alcohol. I drink beer.

Gamer “Dude no one there knows you but me and I’m bringing you. You want to fuck this up for me?

Brostory "You've seen me drink nothing but liquor. It NEVER ends well..."

Gamer "Still. Come on."

Brostory “Don’t worry I’ll take care of it.

Gamer “Last time you took care of it you hospitalized a girl by drinking her under the table.

He was right; it’s a pretty funny story. For some reason I'm really great at making girls try to out-drink me. Being a master of flirty mockery is a dangerous power to posses. Also, to be fair, it's not like I forced her to drink. If you can't manage your own alcohol don't try to blame it on someone else. I might drink to much and do stupid shit, but I always take responsibility for doing so.

Brostory “Okay. No beer. Remember that I’m doing this for you and not for some girl with a beer allergy.

I look at my beers in my lap. They look like cute puppies.

Abandoning these poor puppies into the wild.

It would be animal cruelty.

Brostory “How long until we arrive?

Taxi Driver “Around ten minutes.


I open a beer and start chugging.

The taxi driver sees me drinking.

He then slams the brakes, the car comes to a complete stop.

Before I know it the beer can goes flying from my hands and into the windshield, it spills everywhere.

I try to comprehend what just happened. Did my puppy just got hit by a car?


The taxi driver starts yelling in my face in a impressively loud voice. Being yelled at constantly as a kid I have developed a calm and efficient response system:

I yell back louder.


Chaos erupts.



Taxi Driver “FUCK YOU!

Brostory “NO, FUCK YOU!

Taxi Driver "NO FUCK YOU IDIOT!"




We continued screaming "FUCK YOU!" to each other until we both run out of breath. Gamer described it as two siblings fighting over a happy meal toy.

Taxi Driver “GET OUT!

Gamer apologizes and pays while I’m trying to get my breath back. Finally being able to inhale oxygen again I jump out into the cold. I pay back Gamer for the ride. Don't let external forces, women or beer murdering taxi drivers fuck up a friendship. Men are dumb enough to fuck them up on their own.

Luckily enough we are fairly close to the party so we start walking.

Gamer walks in silence while I’m coming up with creational adjectives used to describe taxi drivers. That’s when I come to a horrible realization: In my anger I had left all my beer in the cab.

Whenever I lose something, from beer to a pet, I deal with it in three different stages. Though as you probably know by now my psychology is not that of other humans.

First come sadness.

Brostory “NOOOOOooooooooooooooo!!!!...

Then comes regret.

Brostory "I shouldn't have yelled at him... My poor puppies... All alone..."

Then comes the explosive anger.


The anger wants out. I choose the object closest to me, aim, and then hit it with a full force swing kick.


That's not the noise of the object breaking. It's the sound of my foot being obliterated.

The object happened to be a massive, solid rock. It was sort of like a ice berg; You think you can run it over but in reality you're only seeing 10% of it's total mass, and it will fuck you up. In other words my foot went full fucking Titanic.

When in pain; scream verbal insults.



Spontaneous insults have never been my best suite.

I jump around on one leg like a cracked up circus clown while Gamer is busy laughing his brains out. I keep screaming at the rock for minutes in words that would make Hitler resemble a saint. I swear to return with dynamite the next day and blow that fuck of the face of the earth.

Eventually I calm down. I look at Gamer who is in tears from laughter. Fuck it. We both burst out in laughter.

Maybe this would turn out to be a good night after all.

Except it wouldn't.


It was the first time in my life that I arrived to a party early, with about forty minutes. Gamer had managed to get the time of the party wrong with two hours. He tells me just as I knock on the door. Before I can react the door opens.

I exhale in relief; the picture matched the profile. She is a cute blonde with some awesome lips. She has a face-frame haircut which I just love. What stroke me most about her is how her smile and personality was so energetic. There is nothing sexier than enthusiasm. One reason why I'm not a huge fan of models; dead corpses have more enthusiasm. Whoever invented the concept that looking bored is "sexy" is a fucking idiot.

Girls take note.

After introductions I realize that we have about forty minutes, probably longer, with her alone. Maybe my philosophy of coming late to parties have been wrong all along. Gamer; you’re a genius.

Hostess “Minty. Good choice. Personally I’m going with J├Ągermeister.

My penis twitched.

Brostory “Let’s pore some up!

Gamer gives me a look. He knows what’s next.

I must admit she has a really sweet crib. Awesome balcony too with great view (apartment on the third floor.) The two of us sit down outside poring shots while Gamer goes inside to set up the music. She tells us that she doesn't know how to manage her own audio system. I swear either women are horrible with technology or they simply lazy and manipulative. Judging from our eye contact and her smile once we sit down I can confidently say I have no clue. Women remain a mystery.

I decide to believe that what she really wants is some alone time with me, or in a more sophisticated saying; she wants the dick.

For some reason assuming attraction seems to work.

Gamer (yelling) “Any preferred songs?

Brostory “Take your time!

That’s basically bro code for Take Your Fucking Time. Bro code is incredibly simple; that's why women will never get it.

Of course that's also why Gamer won't get it. He actually puts on "Take your time".



I burst out laughing.

Gamer; you're an idiot.

No wonder we are such good friends.

I follow up with two rapid shots.

When it comes to music at parties I don’t care what is played.

There are simply one good rule:

Have a good beat. When people get going all they listen to is the beat anyways. Do you ever really listen to the lyrics at a party?

Allow me to elaborate. I once was at a party dancing with two cute brunettes when Tyga’s ‘Make it nasty’ comes on. They danced and screamed like it was their sweet 16 party to “Tongue down her throat while the other bitch gagging.

The next time you’re at a party put on 'make it nasty' and stop for a second and listen to the lyrics. Then look at all the people dancing. Trust me; it’s fucking hilarious.

We each do a shot while waiting for Gamer and small talk a bit. There was some flirt in the air, on the other hand that might just have been me imagining things. For example:

Hostess “You have really white teeth.

Brostory “Thanks. Maybe if you're lucky you get to lick them later.

Admittedly not one of my better lines.

She laughs and gave me the ‘we’ll see what happens’ look. Funny; that’s the exact same look I gave the Minty bottle a minute earlier.

Hostess "So what's your secret?"

Brostory "Promise not to tell anyone."

Hostess "OK! I promise, it will be our secret!"

Brostory "I like kissing a lot. It's like dogs licking each other, except you lick each others mouth. It's very healthy."

I try to give her a sexy look.

She looks confused.

I look more like Mr Bean.

Holy shit I'm a idiot.

Thankfully Gamer comes back before she can respond. We do some more shots. Gamer asks her something about her “career

as a competing horse rider. That fucking idiot. She starts rumbling about horses, carrots and horse shit. She just keeps going and going.

What the hell. When I'm talking to a girl I don't start discussing video games, because if I would I could go on for hours. There are certain things neither gender should discuss with each other. Simply off-limit. Like birth control.

Calm down Palin, I'm kidding.

I do what I usually do when bored; drink more. I get kind of frustrated, I don’t feel any drunker.

Brostory “So you like riding?

Hostess “Ye, of course. I want to be in the national team.

Brostory “Then you need to practice every night.

Hostess “Uhm, well yeah. I mean I try but it’s really hard to get in.

Brostory “It sure is hard."

I look at Gamer.

He gives me the same look my mom used to give me when I threatened to scream as loud as I could in the grocery store if I didn't get my ice-cream. ‘Don’t you fucking dare.’

I smile back at him.

I want my ice-cream.

Gamer, who knows me too well, sees what’s coming. He pulls an evasive maneuver; he offers me another shot.

It’s super effective.

She is still talking as if nothing was said, incredibly oblivious.

Gamer quickly changes the subject to music and we continue to small talk. I notice how Hostess looks at me from the corner of her eye time to time when talking to Gamer. I try to catch her every time she does and give her a similar look.

There’s tension; I can feel it.

I can also feel my balls itching.

What I still didn't feel was any drunker. Strange considering I’m quite a few shots in at this point.

The thing about beer is that it gives you a quite steady drunk considering you’re drinking it in such pace.

Shots don’t.

My mind doesn't go:

“I've taken quite a few shots now. Soon they will take effect, I should take it easy.

But rather:

“Heyyy Awesomee! Youurr not Drunk yet!! Man thee Fukc up und doe a manyy more shots!! Hehee thaat tree lookss like a peniss..."

My mind is a complex place.

Brostory "I have a question."

Hostess "Go ahead."

Brostory "Is your stable anything like in that Swedish stable porno? Like do people fuck around that much?"

Hostess "Haha nah but people sometimes have sex in the hay."

What was awesome was that she had actually seen the porno. I keep forgetting that girls watch porn. It's so surreal.

I wonder if she shares my love for Asians. I look her in the eyes and start imagining her as Asian.

Brostory "Can you squint your eyes for me?"

OK I'm definitely tipsy.

I think at some point Gamer tells me to calm down but I’m not sure. Minutes and shots fly by and soon people are knocking on the door.


The hostess goes up to open the door. I figure now is the perfect time to go to the bathroom.

I stand up quickly.


My brain cells explode in a nuclear bombshell.

Everything dizzy and someone has installed a drum set inside my head.

I need to lean against something. I put out my hand towards the wall and lean in.

My hand never reaches the wall.

I plummet.

I panic. I put my foot out to try to achieve balance.

All my weight is put on my foot.

I feel pain. My foot gives in.

Fucking rocks.

My last thought while plummeting is Dynamite.

Like a fat person emptying a swimming pool I slam the ground.


Brostory “Ohahhhhaghhhh…

I can hear Gamer, that piece of shit, laughing.

I’m confused.

How did I end up on the floor?

The fall went to fast; my stomach goes into hyper drive.

I somehow manage to get up. Everything’s spinning.

I lean towards something; it's the edge of the balcony. I look down.

I almost piss my pants; how did I end up on the Eiffel tower?

I push myself away and lean backwards against the wall. I feel ill. I quickly turn around and try to open the door.

I can’t find the handle.

The fucking door’s gone!

Gamer “You idiot.

I turn to him. He looks amused.

Gamer “The doors over there.

I look where he is pointing. I see the door.

I’m very confused.

I look to what I have believed was the door. It’s the window. It’s smeared hand and face prints.

I tremble inside. From the hallway I hear voices.

Then I hear an even louder noise.

What’s that noise? Are people already inside?

Then I hear it again, but more importantly; I feel it.

It’s my stomach. The nuclear bomb has been dropped and the mushroom cloud wants out.


I slam open a door; it’s her bedroom.

I see her clothing basket. I seriously consider it.

Like a evil child inside a  pregnant woman something kicks me right in the gut.

I bend over in pain. Women says men don't know what giving birth is like. Ye right.

I have to go. Right Now.

I take a few misguided steps towards the clothing basket.

I bend over and prepare to drown her clothes in minty flavored spaghetti and meat sauce.

I feel a hand on my shoulder.

It’s her. I’m about to throw up in her clothing basket, with her looking.

Despite my intoxication I feel guilt.

The hand grips hard and pulls me back. I look around; it’s Gamer. He leads me to a bathroom, puts the toilet seat up and locks the door. A genius and a hero.

I don’t know how long I was in there for. I don’t remember much more from that night. Gamer however did show me a delightful video of me throwing up constantly allover her bathroom and some pictures with me lying on her living room floor laughing. Apparently I had went around and spit my favorite pickup line to every girl and even a guy "You're hot but not really my type." In my defense the dude had long hair.

I never hooked up with the girl. Apparently making a mess of a girl’s bathroom and hitting on all her friends is not a good pickup move. I get a sense that I've learned this lesson before.

Gamer calls us a cab to get back home. We had to wait an extra 25 minutes because the closest taxi driver refused to drive to our address.

Eventually the cab comes and we take off. I look out the window. If it was spinning fast before this was breaking records.

I now know what a jet engine attached to a merry-go-round feels like.


The Shopping Adventure

For some time, three months to be exact, my roommate and I had talked about redecorating the apartment. You see when you got two college guys living together, wait do I really need to say more? The whole apartment looked and smelled like a shit.

It actually tasted like actual shit. I found this out the hard way after my brain decided to shut down two steps away from my bed resulting in a reunion between me and a smelly carpet. I woke up with my tongue licking its hairy consistency, bad timing for sexual dreams.

Anyways it was finally time. The great day when our apartment was to shine once again. What finally motivated us to get it done? It's not a hard question. The same thing that motivates any guy; getting laid.

Some girls (depending on alcohol level) were complaining about our apartment. This didn't bother us much. Though girls are smart, manipulative creatures. Instead of complaining about our apartment they told us how they liked our neighbors apartment more, and that they would rather hang there.

This we can't let happen.

We decided to go shopping and to shop big. This story wouldn't be all that fun if all we did was go shopping. More importantly; it wouldn't be that fun for us. So we called two bro’s over, Smokey and Like-some.

Smokey is just your regular college student except he smokes more than entire California combined. Like-Some got his famous nickname from a phrase he keeps repeating, “I like some, bitch!” Be it food, weed, alcohol, condoms, anal and god knows what else if he sees some he will like some. Once they arrived we all got really baked. Then the four of us crawled into the car to go shopping.

It takes about 30 seconds inside the car before things starts to go down. We are waiting at a stoplight to perform a left U-turn. There is a lot of traffic for a Sunday afternoon; the opposite side is packed with cars.

Smoke is coming out of all the windows as we lit up another joint. This combined with the blasting music it takes us a while to notice what was happening around us. The cars on the opposite side of the road start pulling over. Penetrating the voice of 2Pac comes the loud sound of sirens. A fire truck followed by an ambulance pushes their way through in high speed.

I take another hit as I look at my roommate behind the wheel. He looks back at me and I immediately know something is up. He had that weird, obnoxious smile people have right before they're about to do something stupid. A smile I am way to familiar with.

The same moment that the light hits green he slams the accelerator so hard that once he starts turning the tires screeched. Some old lady on the side of the road looks like she has a heart attack. To make it worse Smokey reaches out of his window and starts screaming things at her which no one but he could understand. I'm pretty sure he would fall out if not for Like-Some's intervention. Seeing how bad of an idea hanging out of the window is, or should I say fun, everyone else quickly caught on.

I can only imagine what it looked like from the side of the road. Four guys hanging out of their windows, including the driver, screaming at everyone and everything. In front of them is a firetruck and ambulance going in high speed with full on sirens. People everywhere are looking at us, including other drivers. My roommate slams the horn over and over and starts yelling:





Everyone stops what they're doing and looks at Smokey.

We then laugh. Our humor is horrible, and I love it.

This is probably a good time to tell you not to try anything like this at home. We are complete idiots. Our sense of humor should also not be sought after as it will lead to the downfall of mankind.

We swish by another red light as we keep trailing the ambulance. So there we were, waiting to get arrested, when my roommate suddenly slams the breaks. We all fly forward and for a second I am sure that we are all going to die. In my high state I remember thinking, 'There are worse ways to die.'

However no one died that day. Well, maybe the old lady from the sidewalk did. In hindsight I should have told the ambulance to turn around. Though only if it could wait for us to finish shopping so we could skip the traffic lights on our way home.

Back to reality. High and paranoid as I was, head filled with sirens, I start to look everywhere to find out why he was slowing down. There it was; the one thing in the world that could stop us. If you don't know by now, come on when will you learn? Guys only uses two heads and one of them works part time.

To our right there is a gorgeous blonde jogging in tight yoga pants and a white sports bra. For a second everyone in the car went silent as we drive up right next to her. Then hell broke loose.

My roommate starts slamming the horn. Thank god she was wearing headphones or else she'd probably fall of the sidewalk and break her legs. She looks at us and I can tell that she is in her late twenties. I hang out my tongue and start howling like a wolf, not before long everyone joins in. The wolf pack.

Her still jogging and us following we pass a bus stop. Three elementary school kids, four guys howling, hot girl jogging, and about 10 pissed of drivers behind us honking. Quite a sight. Before we take off I make a horrible attempt at a "call me" sign. It looked more like I was punching myself in the face than anything else. She laughs and smiles back.

We divide by zero because somehow we decide that food is more important than a tight women so off we drive towards the food store. I'm also pretty sure that our car had five stars at this point.

Like-Some "When I'm walking I hate people like us."

After what felt like 5 hours but in reality was only a 5 minute drive we finally arrive at the store. Like-Some and Smokey went to some nearby cafe since some hot chick works there. It takes all my self discipline not to follow. Instead I went with my roommate towards the food store. As he headed inside I went towards the line of food carts outside.

I walk up and start pulling a cart towards me; it didn't move. I realize that it was stuck. Stuck as in "use more force." I try pulling it again, still nothing. No matter how hard I pulled it stayed still, mocking me.

Let me get rejected by the ugliest or hottest chicks on the planet; I won't care. Let me get rejected by a motherfucking food cart and I go fucking Rambo on his ass. My anger was becoming squared by the second. I take a step back and kick the cart a couple of times but with no result. The small black dots where the handles connects turned into pupils. He was looking at me. Telling me to give it my best.

You mocking me bitch?

I punch that motherfucker.

Brostory "FUCKKK!!"

Pain tears through my wrist.

I try to remember my anger management class as a kid.

Focus Brostory, Focus. Breathe slowly.

After having experienced self-inflicted torture once again I turn to reason. I conclude that maybe violence wasn't the best idea after all. My fighting instructor taught me I take a step back and inspect my environment after a confrontation, so I do.

You know that red handle bars at shopping carts? Now imagine that while extremely high, mad, hungry and recently beat up by the very same handle. All I saw was the red mouth of a condescending clown.

I fucking hate clowns.

Violence it is!

I take my right foot against a nearby pillar while balancing on my left foot. Using all of the strength in my body I start to pull. I let out a massive war cry as my entire body flexes. I could feel the cart giving in.

I got you now motherfucker!

I get motivated and pull even harder. Little did I know that the cart was linked by a small chain to the previous cart.


The chain snaps in half and I propel backwards while still holding onto the cart handle with both hands. Having all my balance on my one leg my brain quickly alerts me that if I don't do something about it soon the asphalt below will give me a welcoming bitch-slap.

Reacting on pure instincts I put all my weight on top of the food cart handle. Anyone that ever visited a food store as a kid knows what it's like driving around on a food cart. It is awesome. However there were two problems; first of all the cart was completely empty as opposed to fill with food, and I was no longer a small little kid.


The cart does a wheelie and I dive backwards, ass first. Still holding onto the handle I push it downwards to avoid it hitting my precious face. Mission accomplished; instead of slamming my face the fucking clown gives me a perfectly aimed sucker-punch.

I land on my ass like an idiot as the cart slams in my gut and makes me quench in pain. All air is sucked out of me. I can't breathe.

As I grasp for air I make a promise to bring dynamite the next day and blow all these fucking food carts of this earth.

Slowly recovering I kick the cart away as hard as I can. It flies out straight onto the road in a orchestra of mockery. Gasping for air I'm unable to curse. Instead I sit still while moaning like Smeagle. You see when you are high you get a heighten sense of things; including pain.

Woman "Are you alright?"

I turn to my right where I see a giant elderly woman with a weird uniform. My first instinct is cop!

Trying to get on all fours takes a while as I try to find my navigation. Soon enough I'm able to stand up. I take another look at the woman, then to my right. In front of the store door there is a table set up. It is filled with cookie packages and behind it sits three young girl scouts and the woman. All three girls are laughing while the woman is trying to hush them.

I smile, grab a new cart, unhook the chain, give my old clown cart the finger, buy two pack of cookies from a grinning girl scout and then walk inside. I exhale in relief; I've made it to the store alive.


I remember when my parents took me to the candy store for the very first time. I was but a little kid but damn. I then knew what Hugh Hefner feels like every time he walks into the playboy mansion. Except, you know, pussy.

Everywhere I look there was pleasure. Being high meant that I had extreme munchies, and this was munchies paradise. I was a fat kid in a chocolate factory. A middle aged man in a beer factory. A old priest in a kindergarten. Rows and rows of candy, sweets, drinks, beer, food, you mention it. My tongue was licking the floor. I was so busy starring that I almost walk into a wall. I see my roommate and walk up to him.

Basically for the next hour or so this repeatedly happen:

Brostory picks something delicious, unhealthy and expensive from shelf.

Roommate explains how we are on a college budget and that it is unhealthy.

Roommate puts delicious, unhealthy and expensive item back on shelf.

Brostory cries.

We move two steps.

Roommate picks something delicious, unhealthy and expensive from a shelf.

Brostory explains how we are on a college budget and that it is unhealthy.

Brostory puts delicious, unhealthy and expensive item back on shelf.

Roommate cries.

We move two steps.

We had to take turns being the responsible one and soon enough we have everything we need. Despite our brave attempts we still ended up with about 50$ of delicious, unhealthy and expensive snacks.

Mind might beat body, but weed beats mind.

Checking all registers for hot girls and finding none we quickly decide to self scan all of our items, I mean how hard can it be?

Should I say more?

It was fucking impossible.

I mean it. Finding bar codes alone on all items is hard enough when you have tunnel vision.

Once bar code has been found you have to turn and twist it about 20 times before the fucking machine finally accepts it.

Once it accepts it and you're about to put the item in the bag it scans it again and suddenly your paying for two items but only receiving one.

Or it tells you "place item on scanning area."


Or even worse: "Please wait for employee to verify age" FOR A FUCKING ENERGY DRINK.

Then you get angry and kick machine.

Then employee turns mad and yell at you.

You don't like being yelled to, you yell back.

Soon two more employees magically appear.

You look up, whole store looks back. You feel like a lion in a zoo.

You feel awesome and prideful inside.

You hand employees your items and tell them to do it.

They look at you and wonder if you're stupid.

They quickly determine that you are indeed stupid.

They then scan all items for you while you stand next to them telling them to hurry up.

You wish you had a whip.

Finally all items are done, you then have to pay.

You don't want to pay.

They explain you must pay.

You give in.

It takes you three times to swipe your card.

It asks for signature, you grab weird looking pen.

You try to make your signature.

It looks like a smiley face on meth.

Machine beeps and won't accept payment.

You kick machine again.

Employee pushes some buttons, payment goes through.

You can hear the employees cheering as you leave.

They adore you. You are magnificent.

You see a dead clown lying on the sidewalk.

You let out a evil laugh of pleasure.

You are very proud.

You are victorious.

You are alone.

You've lost your roommate.

Repeatedly Retarded

You know those times when you tell yourself that tonight you're going all out. They are often incredibly fun, regretful and painful. Some of my best stories are nights like those.

Then you have those nights when you just say fuck it to everything and everyone. You do the most retarded thing you can possibly think of just to top it five minutes later. You keep doing this until you either pass out, get knocked out, get arrested or end up dead. This was one of those nights. It was my 21thirst birthday, and it was Deltopia.

Deltopia is a massive day-rager in Isla Vista. It makes heaven look like a lonely kids birthday party.


I wake up 8am on a Saturday morning. This never, ever, happens. Unless of course your roommate puts on Rammstein on full volume and slams a double shot Captain Morgan in your face. Is there a better way to wake up?

Yes, indefinitely more.

I down the shot and feel right away how the liquor violates my insides. Taking a double shot when you're newly awake on a empty stomach is a bad idea. This somehow feels obvious, but I'm not a smart man. The liquor went around my stomach like a cat in a washing machine fueled by gun powder. At least they made similar noises.

I really need something to eat.

Out of nowhere my roommate arrives with a plate filled with delicious breakfast. I have a sudden realization why some men prefer sausage over women. I reach for the plate like Adam reached for God, but before we can connect in a glorified touch of passion my devilish roommate pulls it away.

Roommate "Good. Now put up your right hand."

It takes a while for me to respond because I'm busy staring down the plate. I have complete tunnel vision. Put Jessica Alba naked next to me and I wouldn't notice her. Okay that's complete bullshit, but you get the point.

Knowing that the only way I'll ever get to that food quickly enough is by either playing along or stabbing him, I take a quick glance for a knife before putting up my right hand up.

Roommate "Okay, repeat after me. Today there are no limits."

Brostory "Today there are no limits."

People complain all the time that I don't live up to their expectations, that day I certainly lived up to my roommates.

My roommate turns around to pore me a new shot. I act in a instant.

I throw myself over the plate as if it was a american football during a Superbowl tumble. Except unlike the Denver Broncos, I don't suck dick. When he turns back around seconds later the plate was completely clean. My dog would have been impressed, and jealous.

I take the shot and walk outside. I was embraced by warm sunshine and a clear sky, couldn't have asked for better weather. We call some girls over and start getting ready for the day. A shower later I start setting up beer-pong on the patio. Once finished we wait for the girls to arrive while still drinking excessively. They said they'd be there in twenty minutes, so I expected them to arrive within two to three decades.

I never really get bored while drinking since I always manage to make the most dead scenarios fun (well fun for me, for surrounding people the effect varies.) For example while being stuck on a train for eight hours while having to sit next to a old man whom looks like he's about to collapse and whiter away. I was bored so I started talking to him. One hour in the two of us were laughing our asses of while telling hookup stories from our youth, both of us being completely shitfaced. That's right, the old fellow had a liquor bottle with him on the train. That ladies and gentlemen is the benefit of experience.

While waiting we got bored so we start picking flowers which were in the bush next to us. Might as well score some free points with the women. We ended up picking the whole bush. I gave up after a few minutes by my roommate continued, seems like he likes bushes a whole lot more than I do. After all I had a legit excuse; if my viking ancestors saw me picking flowers they would throw up in their graves. Then again viking were buried with their weapons, so I'm quite sure they have bigger problems in regards to comofort than some good old puking.

The following day our complex (apartment) manager complained and tried to get us to pay for a new rose bush. He always knew when I've done something stupid, thought that might be because whenever something is broken I'm always involved. I blamed it on the Mexican neighbors, I'm becoming more American by the day.

Three half-life games and two black plagues later the girls finally arrive. They got really happy over the roses, I still don't fully understand why. It is amazing how men can get so much credit for decapitating a few roses and then moving them three meters to a ugly old table. Then again women get way to much credit for simply dropping their clothes from their shoulders to the ground. I guess both genders have their upsides, until they drop.

Regardless it was finally time for some old fashioned beer-pong. A friend of my roommates who was visiting (I'll call him Joe) played me, each one of us having a girl teammate. Mine was from England. I fucking love English women, their words are like music. I was actually listening to what she was saying.

I score the first cup meaning Joe has to drink. Here's the thing though; that beer had been standing in the gazing sun for over a hour. The beer had gone from tasting orgasmic to tasting like fat-girls-pee.

I am fully aware of this. Once you've accidently had fat-girls-pee beer you make sure to never have it again.

Instead you make sure everyone else do.

Brostory "Joe! What are you waiting for, chug it!"

So Joe chugs it.

Then Joe throws it all up.

Allover the table.

Knocking over cups.

Spilling more piss-beer.

Poring down on the poor girl next to him.

Needless to say I burst out laughing, Joe looks like he saw Moses and the girl made some weird noise between screaming and crying.

After drinking for a while longer his teammate finally persuades the other girls that she has to go home and change. I don't really blame her; she smelled like piss. Hot enough to fuck, but smelly enough that you have to hold your nose while doing so. Giving dirty girls all over a new definition.

We agree to meet up later as they head off.


My roommate heads off before me to the girls while I Skype with some people from home. I get a little bit home sick as my friends sings happy birthday over skype, so I decide to drown it in alcohol. I call up my roommate who says he is still at the girls house. I bring some beer with me before I heading out.

On the way there I walk by my bro's house where the birthday party for tonight was going to be held. We had a 5 to 1 girl ratio going for the party. I felt like a small kid on Christmas morning. As I enter the house I see my bro passed out on the concrete kitchen floor. A half naked girl is laying next to him. I think she's half dead too. I've never seen such a pale person before, except at Dreamhack. Ghost town over there.

He then turns his head to me.

Peruvian "ArGhhHhh... Whaaat time?..."

Brostory "Around 11pm. Now get up you lazy fuck, you know what day it is."

Peruvian "Fuckkk bro... I'm soo sorry..."

Brostory "For what?"

Peruvian "I cancelled the party for tonight... I took too much yesterday and can barely move..."

I get fired from my job; whatever I'll get a better one.

I break my left arm; whatever it will heal, chicks love scars.

Twelve year old me get sent to Germany for school; whatever good beer.

Bro cancels my 5:1 girl ratio birthday party; I'm speechless. Words can not describe the terrifying feeling.

That doesn't mean I didn't try.

I could have yelled some curse words, verbal insult and compare him to a elephant dick, sure. But that wouldn't have hurt him. We verbally abuse each other daily.

I wanted to violate him mentally, break his will to live. Make him question his existence.

And I know just what to say.

Brostory "You're a disappointment."

Thanks dad.

Despite his intoxicated state I could see true sadness in his eyes as he gazed upon me, as those of puppies.

I feel sort of bad. I prioritize the happiness of my bro's before that of some slut party any day. Maybe I went a bit overkill.

I leave before, uhm, what is it called... oh right, before I develop a sense of empathy.

I walk out, close the door quietly and keep heading towards the girls house.


I'm still sad over the party.

I do what I always do when I get a sense of emotional conflict; drink. I look around me. The streets are filled with people in swim clothes who are heading towards parties. I love Deltopia, everyone day rages. Hot girls everywhere. I don't see any cops so I pick up a beer and open it. I get to take one single sip before I hear someone yelling at me. I take a look and of course there it is.

A cop walking straight for me.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I take a closer look at the cop, considering if I could outrun him.

He is a young man in good shape.

I'm a drunk.

I forfeit.

Police "Drinking in public are we? Let's see some ID."

I show him my ID, he studies it carefully.

Police "Happy twenty first birthday."

Brostory "Thanks."

He hands my ID back to me. We both stand there looking awkwardly at each other. Not one of us says a word.

Cop "Well head off then."

Tipsy as I was I don't run away. Instead I get curious.

Brostory "You're going to let me go?"

Cop "I'm not going to arrest you on your twenty first birthday. I'm not a asshole."

Brostory "Wow, you're awesome. Thanks."

I start walking away.

Awesome Cop "Are you not forgetting something?"

What now? I turn back around.

He nods at my beer.

Awesome Cop "The beer."

It was still in my hand.

Brostory "Oh right."

I start chugging.

He wants me to finish it before I leave.

This clearly wasn't the case.

Asshole Cop "Are you kidding me? Stop drinking!"

Brostory "Uhm ok, sorry. You want it?"

He sighs.

Cop "Finish it. Quickly."

I raise it and chug for all I'm worth; finishing it in a second.

I try handing him the empty can.

He looks more amused than mad.

Cop "Idiot, I'm not a trashcan."

Brostory "Ohh... Have a great day officer."

Suddenly American cops hatred towards international students makes a little more sense.

I arrive at the girls house. They're not doing much but chilling in the sun and drinking so I join in. Some Swedish friends of mine who were visiting arrive. After some flirting and a lot of alcohol I eventually decide to walk over to Del-Playa, the street where all the parties are. They come with me as we walk straight into paradise.

Everywhere on the street people are running around in bikinis and swim shorts. Every house is blasting music. People are on on top of roofs screaming, throwing water balloons (Also known as piss balloons, go figure), dancing and flashing body parts. Everyone was either drunk or on heavy drugs. It was so beautiful that I almost cried. Then a blond hottie on a nearby roof sees me and smile, I smile back. She then performs the most sacred of acts.

She flashes me both her breasts.

This time I wept a tear, it was too emotional.

I forget everyone around me and start heading towards her house. I walk around the back to the houses terrace which oversees the ocean. A DJ has a sweet setup, people are dancing and some are playing Gaucho ball. I completely forget the flashing girl.

Instead I push my way through the crowd right to the Gaucho ball and steal the cup and ball. Before anyone gets a chance to get pissed at me I yell:


I hit the 10 or so stacked cup right away and yell out in victory while pumping my chest. People are cheering.

I feel my ancestors viking blood pumping through my veins. I regained some honor.

A girl pushes her way in to my right. I give her a look; she's in a bikini and she's hot. She looks back at me and I can tell we want the same thing. We flirt while continuing to play Gaucho ball for a bit. I purposely let her stack me. Not only a great way to flirt but also a great way to get some free beer.

Girl "Why is your shirt still on?"

I realize that I'm the only guy at the party with a shirt on. I'm not one to throw my shirt of at parties. Whenever I see guys do so they always end up being gay or having no game resulting in them standing alone in a corner flexing all night. It was also my birthday so I wore my favorite shirt.

I hesitate.

Girl "I'm not gonna undress if you don't."

I threw that shirt right into the ocean like a guy throws off his condom once the girl turns her head around, never seeing it again.

Relax ladies, it's a joke.

Brostory "Let's head inside."

We walk into the houses kitchen where a crowd of girls were doing shots. Real expensive shit too. I need one look around me to realize that whoever lived here was extremely spoiled. The girls in the kitchen reminded me of the sweet 16 stars; hot, spoiled and stupid.

Just my type.

I let them know that it is my 21st birthday, I'm Swedish, I'm hot, and I'm completely sober.

Rest assured I now know what it's like having six hot girls trying to get you drunk. It felt like a bachelor porno. What was even better was that every guy at the party gave me looks of hatred and jealousy.

It didn't stop there.

I became their cute Swedish sex toy.

Some girl finds chocolate sirap from the fridge and pours it allover me.

They then take turns licking it off.

I became paralyzed, unable to move.

Am I dreaming?

At first it was great, I loved every nano second of it. Best birthday of my life. However this one girl wouldn't shut up about letting everyone know how fucking spoiled she was. 'This is very expensive, you should feel lucky.'

I get frustrated. I really wanted to hate fuck her. Hate fuck is when you fuck someone that you hate so brutally that it's on the edge of abuse. If only world conflicts could be solved in the same efficient manner we would have nothing but world peace. However I am sorry for whoever has the job to make peace with Russia...

I get eye contact with the girl from the gaucho ball. She gives me the sexiest look I've witnessed, sending shivers down my spine. Never before have a hookup been so sure to happen.

But the thing is you're not reading a story of some regular guy... You're reading Brostory, and you know what that means. My supoerpower is that I have a amazing ability to fuck shit up for myself.

You know that feeling when you feel like you can't keep down any more shots and then one incredibly hot girls puts a double shot between her perfect tits as five other girls cheer you on? That was exactly what was happening, over and over.

These girls had been mouth feeding me shots. Such actions have consequences. Maybe telling them that I was completely sober was not the smartest idea anymore. I start feeling the urge to either shit or throw up, I'm unsure which. But there is no fucking way I'm leaving this place voluntary. This is paradise. This is what life is all about.

Then they bring in the Minty.


I hesitate.

Brostory "Uhm... I don't drink Minty."

Five hot girls in bikinis touching you, one hot girl placing the shot between her breasts as she gives you the 'Fuck me now' look.

You try saying no.

I bend forward, grab it with my lips and chug it back.

Maslow was right. Basic needs always beats sexual needs. You can try fighting it, but it is futile.

I force down the first puke. I know that I have about 7 seconds before the second one hits, and that one is coming no matter what.

Without a word I slam the spoiled bitch right into the fridge as I shoot off towards the bathroom. I have sirap everywhere and was slipping around like a drunk fool in his own puke. By some miracle I manage to ice skate into the bathroom. I realize my shoes and shirt are gone. Fuck it. I slam the door, lock it and throw myself on the toilet. As I fall to my knees my mind starts to wander.

A loud noise brings me back to reality. I must have been in there for quite a while because pissed of people are banging on the door. I'm about to open the door when something tells me to take a look back at the bathroom. So I do.

There was chocolate sirap everywhere. Though it was a bathroom, and it didn't look like sirap.

It looked like someone had shit himself and then proceeded to smear it allover the toilet seat, floor and walls. Another bang on the door, this time a lot harder.


I consider how explaining myself would go.

"It is not shit, I swear. Here, smell some."


I open the window and got the fuck out.


I proceed to walk down Del-Playa drunk as fuck while smeared in sirap. I had managed to lose everything but my pants and wallet (I never bring my phone out with me anymore.) I remember talking to girls along the way and even manage to convince some chick to lick me. Cops gave me a terrified looks and refused to get within any proximity.

Maybe this sirap thing isn't that bad...

In the middle of the street I run into my roommate. We're both equally fucked up and happy to see each other.

After failing severely to hookup with some girls we somehow end up on a balcony with a great view of the street below. Not only did we have a great view but we also managed to get our hands on two massive, high-pressure water guns. I really have no idea how we got them, but I'm glad we did.
Like a king born into novelty creating a faulty sense of entitlement I gaze down towards the peasants walking below.

I should note that I have watched the movie Scarface way to many times to be considered sane.

Brostory "Say hello to my little friend."

We start shooting at everything and everyone. Chaos breaks out as people scatter below us and yell wonderful complements.

We're standing up there having a great time harassing people when a group of hot girls approach. You could instantly tell that the girl up front was the leader. We hide our guns from their sight below the railing. They spot us right away, how couldn't they?

Us yelling "HEY LADIES, COME UP HERE AND MAKE US COMPANY!" might have had something to do with it.

She gives me the traditional bitch look and the finger. I laugh.

Then I recognize her. Her name is Mandie. We slept once, but overall she is such a complete bitch that if it was up for me I would be on another continent of whichever she was on. One of those girls with a awful personality in a terrific body. Gods little way of saying fuck you.

She stole my Ray-Band that same night, yet there isn't much a guy can do towards a good looking girl without proof. I should join the men's movement.

Mandie "LOSER!"

Brostory "EY, TAKE THAT BACK!"

She looks at me victoriously.

In that very moment I decided to join the movement, long live the rebels!

I reveal the high-pressured water gun.

She looks confused.

I aim it at her.


I'm pretty sure I dare.


Water flies across the patio and hits her right between the goalposts. It was a real life wet t-shirt contest and I'm the judge. How do people react when they get water sprayed allover them?

They get extremely mad and starts yelling at you.

Let me give you some advice; standing still and yelling at someone with a gun is never a smart choice, and that includes water guns.


I aim just above her head and clench the trigger like my life dependent on it. The ray of water hits her right in the forehead. Water and mascara scatters in every direction as she stumbles backwards and starts running away like a scared hen. It was hilarious. I'd trade that moment for a pair of Ray-Bands any day of the year.

After a while of mild sexual harassment and having to deal with some white knights that had the illusion that picking a fight with us would somehow get them laid we start getting bored. That's when the gates open and heaven emerge. My roommate taps me on my shoulder.

Down the street walks two male police officers.

My heart started pounding.

I get visual images of a holding cell; twenty Mexicans, me, and a single toilet seat.

It's alcohol vs judgement. The eternal battle, both sides struggle nobly.

No matter how dumb I might appear, I don't fuck with the law. That shit has real consequences.

My roommate places his hand on my gun and pushes it down.

The thing about my roommate when he is really drunk is that he has no brakes. No voice in the back of his head telling him "This is not a good idea." There's only the autobahn.

Roommate "Allow me. Consider it a birthday gift."

He raises his gun.

Before I can interrupt him that crazy fuck pulls the trigger.

The world turns into slow motion. A small, straight projectile of water flies of the tip of the gun towards the first officer.

The aim is flawless.

The impact strikes his upper shoulder. Water splashes everywhere.

It hits his face.

His badge.

His pride.

Time freezes.

The cop swing his head around looking for a shooter.

All he had to do is follow anyone's gaze on the street.

It would lead him straight to the balcony where we both stood paralyzed. Unable to laugh, stuck in the moment, guns in our hands.

The cop sees us both and raises his hand, pointing.

Cop "YOU!"

He starts sprinting towards the front door located beneath the balcony. This is the first time in my life I've actually seen a cop run.


Oh fuck.

I hear the front door slamming into the wall. I swear I could hear wood shattering.

I take a look around. There's only one exit; the stairs. Either that or a very high jump down to a concrete parking lot. I look down; the second cop was looking up at me.

He waved and smiled, daring me to jump. He was enjoying this very much.

The other cop not so much.

Brostory "Well fuck."

We did the only thing one can do in such situation; laughing out loud like manic clowns. Fuck it, we're going to die anyways.

A loud noise is heard from inside the house. I watch in amazement as I see the cop plowing drunk students aside like a bull in Italy.

He stops right in front of us to breathe.

Cop (slowly) "Which one... Of you two MORONS, did it?"

Roommate "Did what?"

His face literally starts turning red.

The other cop arrives and stands over by the door, watching amusingly.

He talks very slowly.

Cop "I will give you one last chance. Who?"

Roommate "Oh..."

The three of us look to my roommate. The cop was expecting a confession.

I expected something a lot worse.

Roommate "What you mean to ask is; Who jizzed on your face?"

I fucking burst out in laughter.

Every cell in my body tried to shut up, but my mouth wouldn't have it.

I clench over as my stomach ached from laughter. I couldn't breathe!

The other cop was also holding in laughter. It was all so surreal.

I hang onto the railing because my balance was way gone. I look up to the cop who was starring at my roommate; he's facial expression was a mixture of extreme anger and shock. I get tears in my eyes.

Then the bomb detonates.

He handcuffs my roommate then slams us both up towards the wall. His colleague had turned the music off. It was dead quiet and everyone was starring at us.

He then he gives the loudest, most intimidating lecture I've ever witnessed. He yells us right in the face about respect, danger and consequences. I know there is only one way out of this situation; We both turn into humble 9 year old's that got caught shoplifting.

A small part of me wanted to tell him to relax; it was only some water. Then I realized that it isn't about the water, it's about what the water represents. Then my mind got distracted by a pretty girl in the background admiring the scenery that unfolds before her. I felt pretty bad-ass.

He continues screaming at us until he lost his voice. He then records both of our names after threatening me with deportation.

He then finally leaves thinking that he taught us a lesson. Thing about Deltopia is that there are so many people and police are understaffed so they rarely arrest people.

Oh and he confiscated the water guns. Still no clue who they belonged to. I felt a little mean, but then again those guns would never get a better use. They had fulfilled their purpose, reached their climax so to speak.

I find my Swedish friends and we head to a balcony overlooking a massive terrace rager. Music pumping, lots of people dancing. I hear someone screaming my name. In the middle of the packed crowd I see some girlfriends of mine screaming.

Girls "Have beer!?"

I look down at them smiling.


I open a 6pack and start throwing cans of beers at them.

My aim has been better.

Everyone on the balcony starts to laugh and cheer on me, lots of people downstairs too.

Others started yelling at me "FUCKING IDIOT!" after having beer cans rain down on them. I hit some guy on the head so hard that he fell over dancing.

I felt like Jesus.


I would later learn that they were actually yelling "Happy birthday!" and not "Have beer." 

After being called a idiot about a hundred times and being rejected by a very hot girl close to me because she claimed I smelled like a mixture of choclate, puke and sweat I head down to dance. I created a circle with my Swedish friends and we all start to dance in it one by one. The circle grew and soon became massive. Some guy that could actually dance went crazy. It was all great until a couple decided that the ring was their personal makeout spot.

Pissed of people started telling at them and soon everyone was clawing at each other. I bump into someone and turn around to be looking at a Hottie. No words needed, it was all in the eyes. We start kissing. Pretty awesome birthday so far.

My Swedish friend says he has to piss but don't know the way. These guys flew from Sweden to visit me. I ditched the girl without a thought.

The line to the houses bathroom is over a mile. Women. We head outside to take a piss, the view is great. Overlooking the cliff and the ocean we start yelling random quotes while pissing.

Swedish friend "AMERICA FUCK YE!"

I put both hands up in the air.


I realize I'm pissing on my own foot.

Swedish friend "Is it legal to piss outside here?"

Brostory "No, why?"

I turn to look where he's facing.

Four cops, one from every direction are coming directly for us.

They got us boxed in. As if I was going to run with my pants down.

I must say it's a weird feeling having a cop put his hand on your shoulder while you're busy having a piss.

Cop "Enjoying yourself?"

Have you tried cutting your flow while drunk? It's impossible.

Brostory "Like never before."

He's kind enough to let me finish. The cop was quite old and honestly really chill. One of those people who he himself was a idiot in his youth and can somewhat relate. He asks me if I shit myself, I tell him its choclate. He takes two steps back looking unsure.

I proudly tell him the story of the six girls, I exclude the bathroom part. He asks me where I'm from and why I'm peeing outside. I tell him that we're both on vocation from Sweden, that the bathroom line was full and that we didn't know. After having checked both our Swedish ID's he says happy birthday and tells us not to do it again.

I don't even want to imagine what would happen that day if I wouldn't have been so lucky to get different cops every time. Once those cops share stories they're going to have a laugh or two. Except that one cop.

Still overlooking the ocean I notice people swimming at the beach. The beach is restricted area during Deltopia. People used to party at the beach but so much garbage was left everywhere that the authorities shuts it down while Deltopia is happening. Apparently the environment is more important than a good party?

I realize that piss had been added to my attraction of smells and that a swim is a pretty good idea.

Instead of simply jumping the police barrier we start climbing down the cliff to the beach. It's a massive drop and I have no clue what went through my mind. People die here annually from falling from the cliff while parting or pissing, yet we somehow manage to reach the beach alive.

A mixture of guys and girls are swimming, others are standing on the beach watching. I notice a cute girl in tight jeans and a white top. I walk up behind her, flips her over my shoulder and start walking out in the water. My friend stands behind me amazed.

Girl "Ohhh Myy God! Let me downnn! Nooooo its so cold!"

Foreigners think that the water outside Santa Barbara is warm. It's the complete opposite due to the stream. My dick confuses itself with a belly button the moment my toes hit the water.

I carry her out a bit before I feel a lose of balance. A combination between her moving about like a crazed animals alongside my intoxicated brain. We both plummet in the water at the same time, both screaming. I'm not sure if she's panicking or having a good time. Despite all she actually stays out in the water with me fairly long.

We walk up back to the party, the girl and some friends joining us. The sun had finally begun to settle from burning all day. We agree to head back to our pad and drink a bit more before heading out again to rave.

We sit down on the couch drinking and smoking for a few hours, about the twelve of us. I make out a bit with the girl and she grinds me ontop of my pants, yet I'm way to drunk to be able to get hard. I'm having a really good time, especially since my Swedish friends were with me. I personally think the most precious moments in life is when you're with real friends and perhaps some cute girls, everyone simply drinking and taking it chill. Friends and women, life in a nutshell.

Thing is I had been running around loaded in the dazing sun all day without eating from 8 am. I was exhausted. Mind over body and all that, bullshit. I was done.

Despite it being my birthday, and Deltopia, and having a gorgeous girl in my lap I pass out on the spot. They tried, but no one could wake me up.

It really didn't matter, I still had a great fucking day that I still remember years later...

I bet the cop does too.

Hasta L'a Vista Motherfuckers.

The Flesh Eater

Everyone has a few bad sexual experiences (some of us more than others...).

Maybe the sex was simply bad, you couldn't get it on or if you're a unlucky the condom broke and congratulations; you're life is officially over. Yet none of these even remotely compare to what I experienced the night of my birthday party.

The party itself was rather regular. I have invited lots of people to delude myself that they come to worship the very day I was brought into this life. In reality the guests arrive to get shitfaced in a environment where they don't have to worry about the carpet they just threw up on.

It's a mutually beneficial relationship.

Along the invited was this blond girl I met at a bar from the previous weekend, let's call her Blondy (I know; terrific imagination.) There was still a lot of sexual tension between us from flirting previously at the bar. In other words; a done deal.

It would require something extraordinarily stupid from me to mess this thing up.

At this point my stories are as obvious as a women drama film, but hey, people still keep watching that shit. Moving on.

Like most girls she didn't want to come alone so she had brought two girlfriends.
Blondy is definitely the hottest out of the bunch. She's one of those rather short blonds with a great body and smile. The best thing about her however was not her looks, but her personality.

She radiated sexuality. However her friends, two brunettes, weren't bad.

Friend one is short, skinny and appears to be very insecure. You know the type that seems so innocent until you get them to the bedroom. Then they suddenly evolve into a well oiled sex machine fueled by diesel, liquor and cum. The cuter the crazier.

Friend two is bigger than both her friends but not in a fat way, according to my intoxicated brain cells. She gives me this weird horn-dog look. She has really big tits. While I believe that tits is for babies and ass is for men, I won't say really mind some.

I playfully slap Blondy on her ass as I tell them to come in. The night had barely begun. Anyone who has ever been to a birthday party knows that they all have one thing in common; you get the birthday boy fucking wasted. This party was no exception. Along us bros we have a tradition on birthdays; the birthday boy can't refuse any drinks given to him. Wherever I went people wanted me to join their drinking game or do shots.

I exist to please.

I walk around and drink with some random people when I realize how tiresome walking is. I had at this point walked from the kitchen into the living room. I decide that walking simply isn't for me. Before sitting down I make a simple note in my phone "Get yourself a Segway."

I find myself sitting downstairs in the couch doing power hour. Power hour is when you do exactly one shot per minute.

You know when you're drunk and a hour passes in a heartbeat? In that hour you would have done 60 shots. And you thought keg stands were bad.

Though if you use liquor instead of beer every two minute is usually used. I would not recommend anyone to try to drink sixty vodka shots in a hour, unless your Russian.

I have at this point almost fully forgotten about Blondy and her two friends. I was too busy being mouth-fed by everyone that was gathered around the couch. I start to get very lazy; I would just hit on whatever girl is closest to me. Why walk up to girls when you can get them to come to you? I'm such a lazy genius, like Stephen Hawking.

I realize that Blondy is next to me. I have no idea how she got there. Girls have this amazing ability to end up next to the guys they are interested in, especially on the dance floor. I try giving her my sexiest look which in that state probably looked more like I had down's syndrome. Since it was my birthday I had been drinking quite a lot already, opening my first beer right by the bed.

We keep doing power hour for about twenty more minutes. At least so I think, my perception of time is quite diluted.

Shot after shot keeps going down my throat and things started to get really blurry.  As in;

'I can't get up from the couch! Wait, what couch is this? Is this even a couch? Am I in Sweden or America?!! WHAT THE FUCK?... Oh look women!'

Like most alcoholics I can manage my fair share of shots. However it doesn't matter how awesome of an alcoholic you are; if you drink too fast and too much shit will go down. Or rather shit will come up.

I look at Blondy.

She is taking another shot like it's nothing. Fighting through hesitation I take my shot; bad idea. My liver starts to perform baby kicks, except the baby must have been a woman because she is kicking with her toes first and it fucking hurts. I feel very ill, like if I'm watching the biggest losers shower scene.

Blondy is drinking me under the table.


I wish I was kidding but I'm not. I felt more and more ill after every shot while she's absorbing them like an alcoholic sponge. I wasn't sure if I hated her or I deeply loved her.

You know that point where you feel that if you take another shot you're going to throw up? That was five shots back. I was utterly fucked and I knew it.

Though as a engineer I have been taught problem solving my entire life. Calculating vectors in a four-dimensional geometry or trying to get to the bathroom without puking everywhere first. What's the difference, really.

I consider my options.

I could walk away and admit defeat.

I rather dip my balls in meat sauce and jump into a pit of crocodiles.

I could stay, keep drinking and eventually throw up allover the place. I consider it.

It was the only smart choice.

My bro told me that the next day that everyone, except me, was cheating. Pretending to take shots while they laugh at me that was actually drinking. There should be a law to protect discrimination against drunk people.

Then it happens; I have a moment of genius. My best friend, my wing man, my very own dick comes up with the solution. It was so simple. So obvious.

Why didn't I think of it before. There is but one thing that can excuse a guy from a on-going drinking game.

Pussy. I literally mean pussy.

I grab Blondy's back and look her in the eyes.

Brostory "Bathroom, me, you, now."

I pull her up before she can respond. Someone cheered, including my stomach. Fuck people are annoying.

We walk inside the bathroom and I lock the door. She puts both her hands on my waist and look at me. I look at the two of her.

Looking at Blondy and her twin I realize I'm happy that I choose them. You see at my own party I can pretty much decide what girl to be with. I'm the host, I'm the center of attention, I'm awesome. This is actually false, but let's not ruin my unrealistic image of self worth.

Not only am I awesome, but the dam within my stomach is breaking apart. The flood wants out.

Blondy leans in for a kiss.

Hurts me to say so, but I push her away and stumble backwards towards the toilet. Turning around just before slamming into the toilet I turn and plunge my head inside.


It's like the Niagara falls of puke.

I hear her saying something behind me, but I am unable to turn around. Shit just keeps coming up. I have created a perfect circular system of puke. It's like it had its own Eco-system.

Blondy "And I thought you could drink Brostory. I even beat you! Weak."

For a second I reach the the eye of the storm and am able to breathe. I tilt my head to her.


It was as if someone shoved a hose up my ass and put on full pressure. I try turning my head in time.

Not fast enough.

In the middle of turning my head I let out a spray of colors and stench. It was a beautiful puke fountain creating a perfect arc of colors in the air before finally smashing into the edges of the toilet seat.

Blondy "I'll give you some time..."

There's nothing worse than throwing up at home because you deep down know that you have to clean it up yourself. I really need to get a girlfriend.

I thank every god out there for finding a bucket of water and soap in a nearby drawer. Having lost all perception of time I kept at it while switching between cleaning and holding back puke. Though all that is evil will eventually cease, and soon I was in the blessed presence of a warm shower.

Never thought I'd say so, but it was nice to not be screamed "BIRTHDAY BOY, COME TAKE A SHOT!" at for a while.

I then come to realize that there isn't a towel anywhere. I take another quick look.

I hear noises coming from the sauna. I open and take a look. There's a passed out dude with no pants snoring. Guy was loaded. I shrug and close the door.

Not exactly being in the mood for a shot I gently peek out the door (gently as in slamming the door open and standing there naked). There are six people on the couch. Both my hand and dick wave at them as I walk to my room to get some clothes. After having changed I grab a beer and start walking towards the living room. As I leave my room the sweet sound of a beer being opened reaches my ears.

In comes my moron bro Wince and throws me another beer. The rules are simple. Someone offers you something; you drink. If you're already drinking something; finish it first. I give him the finger and chug it. I realize I no longer stink puke, I now stink beer.

I stink perfection. I love it.

Like I said at my birthday party I can pretty much decide who to be with. That's actually misleading. The correct statement would be that my dick can decide who to be with. When I'm this drunk whichever girl makes it easier for me wins the grand price. My room happens to be right by the staircase. I'm just about to walk downstairs when I run into Friend two, the bigger of the three. You know Num-Num. She says something about wanting to see my room and drags me into it.

We all know where this is going. My mind gives Blondy a thought. My dick tells my mind to shut the fuck up.

Before I know it the door is locked and we’re naked on the bed. She throws herself over my dick and starts sucking it dry.

I am amazed that I can get hard. The human body is extraordinary.

Brostory "I love birthdays."

As I tell her she looks up and gives me that dirty slut smile. Nothing turns me on more than a sexy smile, if it wasn't for the massive amount of liquor having an orgy with my liver I would have shot a load right there.

Suddenly I feel how she bites my dick very softly with her teeth as if to tease me.

What the hell?

This should have been a obvious warning sign, but not for me.

Brostory is horny.

She does it again but slightly harder.

This time Brostory worries.

He decides its time to fuck instead.

I flip her around, throw on a condom, and start fucking her in missionary. Mainly because I wanted to see her Num-Nums. While fucking girls this way I like to kiss them around their neck or play with their clit. Believe it or not I can actually be a very competent lover. Either I am a sex god or I'm the guy that the girl will regret sleeping with for years to come. Greatness or uselessness; words to live by.

It's also a nice cover if you have to whisper disturbing things in her ear, don't want to look at her face or is about to pass out. For any girlfriends who read that; I'm sorry for ruining your perfect romantic sex life. I'm in the middle of doing so when I feel her biting my ear and neck, this time harder.

It’s not all too uncommon for girls to do this so I keep going.

So did she.

She starts biting harder and harder too the point where it, despite my fucked up state, hurt. I pulled away from her face and put the weight on my elbows instead, still thrusting.

She then leans forward and starts teasing my chest with her tongue accompanied by playful biting. She finds a nipple.


I have bad experience with girls playing around in that particular area. That experience was about to be one-upped.

Why the fuck do guys even have nipples? They are purely there for innovative ways to torture the male gender.

Brostory "What the fuck are you doing?!"

She smiles and moves her tongue from my nipple back to my chest. She sits up and puts her weight on her elbows so that she can get a better angle, I just keep fucking her like on auto pilot. To be honest my dick was so fucking numb that I could not be able to tell the difference between a vagina or a piraya down there. She starts licking and biting my chest gently, or at least so it starts. Before I know it she was getting a good grip around my skin with her teeth.

A part of me wants to go back to the party, another part of me wants her to keep going.

So I keep pouncing.

Figuring if I cum before things get all of control it would be all good.

I man up and pick up the pace. I mean it couldn’t get much worse right?

Let me give you a advice that will help you though life. If you ever find asking yourself 'how much worse could it get?', the answer is always A LOT WORSE.

The harder she bites the faster I fuck her, we're like a fucking duet. When I’m super close to cumming it happens. We climax together, the ultimate performance. Except her idea of climaxing is very different from mine.

She takes a huge fucking bite out of my chest like if it was a piece of cooked meat. Teeth and all. Fucking Hannibal Lector my torso.

First comes the shock, and then comes the panic:


I scream so loud it could probably be heard to Pluto and back, AND SHE KEEPS HER FUCKING GRIP. She's like a fucking snake bleeding her prey dead. Due to shock it takes me a few second before I throw my dick out of this disguised alien. Only then does she let go.

In my state of chock I fumble trying to find the light switch. Finding it I gaze down on my chest in amazement.

Is this really fucking happening?

Two huge bite marks were located on my right chest; it looked like right out of a zombie movie. I HAVE ACTUALLY BEEN BITTEN. ZOMBIES ARE FUCKING REAL!


If violent video games make people kill, then fucking twilight makes people bite.


My aching head was still trying to comprehend what had happened.

Did she just take a bite of my fucking chest?

I look at her and to this day I could swear that she was smiling.

I fall of the bed, get up, dress and leave without a word. I honestly didn't know what to say. My brain had shut down. I was speechless. It was as if it all had been a bad, sexy dream. Thinking the worst had ceased I unlock the door and start opening it. It was at that very moment I noticed how incredibly silent the house was. Before I could give it any more thought the door was fully opened and there it was.

The entire party starring right at me in complete silence. I had forgot that I screamed really, really loud. I should have expected this.

Wince starts laughing first. He fucking cramps on the floor. The rest of my friends follows. It's like someone is playing a bad laugh track.

But there is one person that isn't laughing.

In the middle of the crowd stands Blondie. She is starring right at me.

I had time to give her one look before I felt the pulsing pain in my chest return.

Fuck this shit.

Brostory "I need to drink."

I ignore the studio audience and walk down the stairs. I left the door opened with her laying naked inside. Once downstairs I find the closest vodka bottle and start chugging. I had to do it, it was a matter of my own health.

I put the vodka down and out of nowhere my bro Wince is sitting next to me in the couch smiling.

Wince "What happened?"

I look at him, lift my shirt, and start laughing hysterically.

Eventually we run out of air.


Wince "You have to disinfect it."

Sooner or later reality always comes knocking.

I pull up my shirt and pour vodka over the bite wound.

I scream like a little girl.

For the rest of the night we sat in the same spot and did nothing but laugh and drink.

Blondy also came by once with the verdict.

Blondy "Know this, I will never, ever, fuck you."

To this day, despite lots of flirting, sexual tension and even kissing; it holds true.

I keep drinking until I pass out, ignoring the party and everyone else.


The next day gossip was everywhere. I find out that most people simply thought that I had screamed really loud as I came. When I told the rest of my bro's the next day what happened they didn't believe me.

So I flash them my chest. Everyone's faces lit up in utter amazement.

I get a feeling that this is what flashing boobs feels like.

First time weed incident

This is the story of when I tried weed for the very first time. Trying weed for the first time is really nothing special. Some people barely feel anything and some feel it a bit more.

And then there is me.

You see my first time was a little bit different than most. I'm talking about smoking here, losing my virginity was probably pretty similar as most peoples; a lot of crying and shame.

So why was my first time so different? Unlike most people who have a nice and responsible friend to help them that very first time, I had the complete opposite.

I had Fred.

One night while drinking my neighbor and good friend Fred comes up with the idea that I should try weed. It's California; Everyone smokes weed here. Nothing spells culture shock like the Electrician and Landlord asking if they can take a bong rip before heading back to work.

With that in mind I quickly agreed.

Fred chugs his beer, burps loudly and runs into the kitchen. He jumps up and down like a tripping kangaroo in full excitement as he rounds the corner. Sure I was excited but Fred was on a whole other level.

Since I originally come from a small Swedish town I've never touched or seen weed. If it wasn't for rappers and movies I would have barely known it existed. You can imagine what goes through my head as he comes in with a massive bong and and a even bigger smile on his shitfaced face. I played it cool but honestly I did not know what to expect.

Fred “Are you ready to become a man?”

Brostory “What the fuck is that thing, your personal penis enlarger?”

Fred “Something even better!”

Still jumping around he slams the bong on the floor and starts packing the bowl. I have to emphasize this bong was massive. It almost reached my jawline from the floor, and I'm tall. Not like the normal ones you see in every college dorm. This one was made to kill.

And kill it would.

Thing is that I had no experience with any bongs at this point. I mean zero experience; our culture isn't exactly accustomed to drugs. The amount of drugs Americans do compared to us Swedes makes us look like conservative monks.

Despite my lack of experience the bong was bigger than I expected it to be. I might have been drunk, excited and horny (totally unrelated), but not stupid.

Okay a little bit stupid.

Brostory "That's a normal sized bong?"

Fred "Ye, a bit on the small side."

Brostory "Ok. Cool."

So I figured it was a normal sized bong.

That's like a girl figuring that the massive black dildo her friends just gave her is a bit on the small side.

We were both about to experience the very definition of pleasurable suffering.

I take a look at Fred whom is busy packing the bowl. The expression on his face must have been what I looked like finding porn for the very first time. We were even doing similar hand movements. His head was rocking with the music as he was singing out loud. I was patiently waiting next to him with blood coming out of my ears.

He packs the entire stem with prime Cali weed and tells me he'll light it for me.

For a second I hesitate; my spider senses were telling me this might not be such a good idea. With that in mind I do what I always do when something sounds like a bad idea:

I proceed.

Brostory "OK. Tell me what to do."

Fred "Put your lips at the end of it. Then all you need to do is suck hard."

Brostory "Am I doing a bong hit or a blow job?"

Fred “Just inhale as hard as you can, when I pull the stem up you inhale it all. Leave no smoke. Simple.”

Brostory "Alright. Give me a normal hit."

Fred "Sure bro."

Considering that I had never seen a hit before I had nothing to compare too, meaning I had no clue how big a "normal" hit was. With that in mind I had no choice but to trust Fred. I simply thought that they build the size of the bongs after how big a normal bong hit is.

You know, logical thinking. What I forgot was that this was fucking America; where everything is way bigger than it has to be.

You know those times in life when you look back at your life and ask yourself;

What the fuck was I thinking?

Even as I'm writing, years later, I'm still asking myself the same question.

As my lips hit the top of the bong I start to inhale like a mad man. I figured that Fred would lift the stem up when it was time.

I watch as the bong fills with more and more white smoke... I wait for Fred... and keep waiting.

It's only once I see how that asshole desperately tries to keep himself from bursting out in laughter that I start to panic.

What the fuck was I doing?

The entire bong was clogged with smoke.
It was so white that Kristen Stewart would have appeared tanned.

In panic I slam Fred's arm in full power forcing him to pull up the stem. Still inhaling in full throttle I see how the smoke flees the bong and invades my lungs.

I want to stop. Please make it stop.

I could either inhale it all and suffer serious mental illness, or I could stop and be called a pussy.

I see Fred, and in my mind I see Snoop.

If they can do it, then so can I.

So I clear the whole fucking bong.


The bong clears as all the smoke enters my temple.

Then it happens.

My lungs, throat, vision, balance and mind explode at once.

Tears are flooding from my bloodshed eyes.

It feels like someone is shooting a flamethrower up my throat.

I lose all balance and collapse in a coughing seizure.

I want to die.

I can't breathe.

This is it.

I, Brostory, was about to make history.

I was about to be the first person in history to die of a weed overdose.

And my dad told me I would never accomplish anything of importance.

However instead of death came something far worse.

A glimmer of hope arrived as days, hours, minutes, seconds passed and slowly the coughing started to cease.

After having lost few liters of tears and all my self respect while Fred's laughter continues to echo next to me it happens.
The weed pulls my brain cells pants down and shoves a dick up its ass. My brain cells were about to be molested.

It's the first time in my life that I'm high.

Despite the countless times I've smoked after that point it remains the highest I've ever been and ever will accomplish.

Words cannot describe the feeling or experience. Gladly my good friends Fred and Peruvian wrote down things I shouted and recorded me doing so. The room was suddenly filled with people. They had brought every living soul they could find to make sure no one missed this moment. Everyone was there. Not that I realized, the concept of other human beings were to complex for me to grasp.

He told me later that he brought them to encourage me, what a great friend. Their encouragement consisted of them laughing their ass of by watching me fall over furniture, yelling slurs and generally tripping the fuck out.

The best way to describe the feeling is that of a child. I felt like I was eight years old again. When the entire world is so mysterious and you know nothing of it. It's the innocence before you've experienced anything real. It's like seeing a pair of breasts for the very first time and you can do nothing but admire their beauty. Even my humor became that of a eight year old; everything was hilarious.

Fred and Peruvian kept asking me to tell them what I was seeing. These are some things I shouted that night:



Upon our wall we have a poster of Boob Marley in two different colors; red and green. The red Boob Marley looked evil, and no matter where i moved in the room his eyes kept following me.


Then I noticed green Boob Marley looking at me.


A girl of the bigger variant entered the room.


Sadly my knowledge of geography has not improved much since I was eight.

The Peruvian comes out of the kitchen with a bucket on vanilla ice-cream.

This is the first time in my life I'm eating anything, even more so vanilla ice-cream, while high:


Peruvian "Word."

I think for about 8 seconds.

Brostory "WORD!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

Someone says a horrible joke and I start to laugh hysterically. Everything was so weird. So far I loved it. It's like jumping off a bridge. At first you love it. The apparent absence of gravity, the air flowing through your fingers, the beauty of it all. Then you realize that gravity is not absent and that you're falling towards the ground. You realize that you're fucked.

That's when the spins hit.

The world turns from six dimension to hundreds; everything starts spinning. I can't focus on one single object. I get sick and confused. I don't know where I am. As on autopilot I start running really fast towards the bathroom. I wasn't running remotely close to straight.

My right knee slams right into a wall.

I don't fucking care if you given birth, had a arm chopped off, been tortured or forced to wear nail polish. That shit is nothing, it's not pain.

This was pain.

There were tears coming out of my eyes.

I need help to get up. I then limp towards the bathroom in a zick-zack pattern.

I trip on the ledge at the bathroom door.

I fall straight to the concrete floor.


I start to cry in front of everyone. I never, ever, ever cry.

I can't describe the pain any better than that.

I get help to the toilet and sit there for a eternity.

I have no idea for how long I was in there coughing and wanting to throw up. However I can proudly say that I never did. Years of drinking has taught me self control. At least so I keep telling myself. Think positive right?

Eventually I recover somewhat and manage to reach the sink. I try to get some water down my throat. Feeling slightly better I look up into the mirror. It's my first real moment of self reflection. Looking at yourself in the mirror. Staring into your own soul.

Blood filled eyes as of that of a vampire stared back at me.

My mind was completely blank. I was in complete paralysis.

I get goosebumps. I don't think I've ever been afraid of myself before that moment.

Unable to look away from my inner self I keep staring as I praise that the worse is over.

Nothing can be worse than this.

I was wrong.

You know when you're that fucked up that looking at any object for just a few seconds to many makes you feel ill?

I was wayyyy beyond that.

And I was looking into a mirror.

For the second time that day I set the record in the most awful feeling in the world. It's the feeling of continuously falling. You ever had a bad dream where you keep falling? It was something like that. Just worse.

I wasn't dreaming.

I was really falling.


I body slam the concrete bathroom floor behind me. Again.

They say a man never gives up.


I start heading right towards the bedroom. I must have looked extremely manly crawling on all fours, eyes wet from tear residue. Hands touching the walls in a faint hope of helping me navigate. I hear a faint echo of laughter. Eventually finding my way I lay down and close my eyes.

I'm going to finish this story with a friendly tip. Anyone that has been in my condition and closed their eyes knows what happens next. For you that haven't been, try it out.

It's fucking great.