I know it has been a while, but it is time once again. What time is it you say? Well, it is time to take a trip into that realm, where rhythm has no reason and sobriety takes a back seat to the ever so revealing world of intoxication. Yes, that's right. Ya'll know what I'm talking about. Now, let us take a ride once again into the world of Drunken Gibberish. After all, Virtual Vinsanity cannot be experienced in a sober state of mind. Salud.
I Left my Love and Sobriety in San Francisco
Part 1: Asses in the mirror may be closer than they appear
“Friday night, I’m goin’ nowhere
All the lights are changin’ green to red”
[Or so we thought?]
-David Gray
We arrived in the Bay Area roughly around five to six in the evening, hoping that our friend ‘Lori’ would be present in her apartment upon our arrival. Cruising on the trip were ‘Martie’, ‘DJ B-LEEve’, ‘Dickybird’, ‘Mr. Yeahhh’, ‘The Gregarious One’, ‘E-Dub’, and yours truly. The weekend would basically be a sausage fest with one serving of coconut. If there could be a TV show about our weekend, it would be called Seven Guys, a Girl, and a Pizza-Place. Actually, we didn’t have any pizza on that fabulous Labor Day gala. Instead, we substituted it with our second most favorite food group on this terra-form spherical land mass: alcohol. Therefore, we will re-christen it Seven Guys, a Girl, and an Albertsons.
After an awful dinner at a phony Taiwanese cuisine joint near El Cerrito, the gang decided that experiencing the UC Berkeley night life would be number one on the agenda. For the purposes of dogging Cal’s snooty condescending attitude as well as abbreviating its pain in the ass typo-prone nature, I will now be referring to it as UCB. Having cruised the semi-ghetto streets of Berkeley, we parked in a couple of dilapidated parking meter spots and set foot on land where many have gone before us. We were set on ravaging the unkempt maiden of this strange NorCal territory, which hella sucks. However, I’m not sure if you can really soil anything that has already been through five or so gangbangs, figuratively speaking. Within five minutes, we had already encountered a posse in front of a pizza parlor, ready to rumble over something stupid. I think they were arguing over whose pizza order was up or something along those lines. Apparently, someone had jacked someone else’s pizza. In a man’s world, one does not do two things: (1) jack one another’s former or current girlfriend and (2) jack one another’s former or current pizza. We quickly brushed by the coterie of “Tough Man 2003” hopefuls in Steve Prefontaine manner. Being the busy DJ’s that we are, DJ B-LEEve and I stop by Amoeba for some quick picks of wax and vinyl. After about fifteen minutes of crate digging, we were well on our way. Our posse back tracks from where we came from and witness the aftermath of the Pizza beef, or should I say Beef Pizza? When the kids in The Outsiders were about to get busted by the pigs, they would exclaim, “the fuzz!....the fuzz!” In modern times, “the fuzz” refers to something completely different. Times really have changed. In essence, we were relieved that we would not be caught in the crossfire of pepperoni and sausage bashing. We continued our adventure, leaving the sight of student body hoodlums being handcuffed in the moonlight behind us.
Our host, ‘Lori,’ was not too familiar with the UCB party scene so I gave ‘Alby’ a call. In no time at all, we were on our way to the Sigma Pi house for some potentially good clean fun. After wandering through the labyrinth known as Frat Row for about ten to fifteen minutes, we finally arrive. Why they call it a row when it’s more like a neighborhood, I have no clue. I immediately see a polo shirt wearing man with the Asian alcoholics glow in a small group of five people. Judging by the redness of his skin tone, I could tell that he had been drinking for quite some time. ‘Alby’ sees all of us and greets us warmly with a “Wassup bro!”
We immediately greet him back, “Hey/yo/hi/wazzup/salutations!”
“Who is that? Oh my, what are they all doing here?” says a girl in the back.
As we move closer and step onto the patio area, the mysterious girl turns out to be none other than the infamous Ms. ‘Angela Jangles.’ She was well-known in high school for being the girl with the biggest set of boobs ever seen on an Asian chick. Even to this day, her D-Cup division title is still unmatched. After taking a quick look at her boobs, we all proceed into the house for some possible drinking.
Upon entering, we were not surprised to see that the Sigma Pi house was upholding the tradition of maintaining an Animal House-like quality of cleanliness to it. I hear noise in the basement area and that is exactly where ‘Alby’ seems to be leading us. Figuring that the party was being held underground, we all followed him downstairs. With nothing more than dark red lighting and the smell of liquor permeating the deep void where many probably have been paddled before, I immediately see something to my right that I will never forget: an ass. Crouched on the floor, an individual pours a shot of something down the back of that person’s ass so as to catch it coming off the end and into his mouth. Crossing my fingers, I say to ‘Alby,’ “Dude…that better not be pledge bros partaking in a secret initiation”
With reassurance, he replies, “Oh, naw dude…that’s just a stripper getting the rushees excited.” He walks through the congregation of screaming frat prospects to find someone.
“Oh my god! Okay, let’s get out of here.” says a very shocked and a previously wholesome ‘DJ B-LEEve.’
One by one, I hear many “Oh!” and “Whoa!” phrases being tossed around in a sort of domino effect within the group, with the exception of ‘Lori,’ upon the sight of the ass. In fact, she didn’t even seem startled at all. Perhaps, UCB girls like the sight of asses or have just been desensitized to everything?
‘Alby’ comes back out with his frat brethren, ‘Mitsubishi Lancer,’ and we all greet him warmly. For all those who do not know ‘Mitsubishi Lancer,’ he is only one of the most world-renown on-campus bartenders on this side of the left coast. He would later prove it to us the next night. Like a pack of rabid alcoholic wolves playing hooky from an AA meeting, we ask to be lead to the alcohol. We would later find out that the house beer was strictly for the bros only. ‘Alby’ was gracious and drunk enough to offer to fetch some hard liquor from his private stash at home, but we declined out of concern for his currently less than sober state. ‘Angela Jangles’ walks in and asks, “So are we going to get fucked up or what?” Not wanting to further intrude on the festivities, we parted ways with ‘Alby’, ‘Mitsubishi Lancer’, and the Sigma Pi abode for the night.
Once again, we were on the hunt for another frat party to crash but with no clue as to where. That was when fate stepped in and appeared to us in the form of an ethereal drunken beauty. Right as we stepped off the patio area of the Sigma Pi house, a group of youngsters walk by us. No sooner do I hear ‘Martie’ blurt out, “’Candor!’”
The girl turns around kind of surprised, “Huh?”
“Remember me? I’m ‘Martie.’ We met at ‘Alby’s’ get together some time ago down in SoCal?” asks ‘Martie’ in a hopeful and semi-effeminate soothing voice. His translation: Excuse me, but would you like some dick?
“Oh...hmmmmmmm. I think I remember you guys.” replies ‘Candor.’ Her translation: I highly doubt it, considering that I was beyond wasted in the bathroom the last time we saw each other.
“So where are you all going? Is there a party around?”
“We’re going to the Pineapple party.”
With the intention to save the night and perpetuate it ‘Martie’ asks, “Do you know where it is?”
“Yeah, we do. If you guys want, you all can tag along.”
If Emerill Lagasse were there, we all would have heard a “Bam!” being blurted out in the background. Thanks to ‘Martie’ and his attempt to express his fondness for ‘Candor,’ we were well on our way to partying at the cradle of all Pineapples. What can I say? You just got to love those Korean women.
(to be continued...)
Stay tuned for second coming of the Bay Area saga, aptly titled: Part 2: Swimming in a pool of frosh
| 
