Goodbye F-350

I hate reviewing all the things that happened over the weekend in a journal-type setting like this. I do it constantly, but I always forget major details, sound like a drunk dumbass, and end up rambling off to some other topic unrelated. But, this was a week/weekend that hit me like a truck (probably a large blue F-350). Thats right, the week of the F-350 had come to an end, and with the return of the Explorer, I fully expect a return to normalcy. No more rumbling diesel-ness, no more UNCW women's basketball players spending the night at our apartment, no more wearing crown royal bags as hats, and certainly no more using a red plastic bowling pin as a microphone. Friday, I went with chris and dan to a lazy afternoon of some sort at P-bob's, since chris is now a member of the non-fratty-guys-dating-a-sorority-girl team, and would need backup. Drunk we became. Proceeding to Carver street, we were by default the drunkest 3 of the party, and things did not change as the night wore on. Why is it that I constantly seem to chain smoke when drunk? I had a talk about farming with a guy named Hunter. I had a talk about Beer-bonging with a guy who I can't remeber (he took 3). I watched another dance-off. I managed to lose another beerpong game. Much more happened, but that will be omitted in the interest of those parties involved. As I assumed the night would be coming to a close, chris and I made the long walk home to 40H, happily drunken and expecting no suprises. Lo and Behold, Paul Shafer, the Champps bandit, had somehow managed to get 5 girls to spend the night at our apartment, 1 from Elon (which was not a suprise), and 4 UNCW girls, who were on the Women's Basketball team (which was a surpise.) Being the friendly hosts that he is, chris ran into his room and locked the door, passing out. I, unafraid of women taller than myself, sat on the couch in their midst, talking on the ever-vital AIM. Memories of the night being quite unclear, I dont recall what happened till a little later, when they (and I) were going to sleep. As I walked to my room, one asked if I would give her a kiss goodnight. It seemed a fine idea to me, and as I did this, it somehow turned into full-on make out. Evedently, that scores them points or something, so I guess I was used. Do I mind being used? Not quite.