Bloggystyle -- The Greatest

"No Fallen Soldiers"
It was May, 2002. Blueprint and Stillmatic were still relatively fresh. The Eminem Show had just come out. Left Eye had recently taken an ill fated car ride to the sky so she could go fuck up more Pac tracks in the afterlife. And exam week had just ended, rounding out my sophomore year. In otherwords, it was a good time.

This was all a cause to celebrate. And we did so the only way we knew how; throwing an intoxication fest at a cabin up north with all of our assorted friends.

The Main Players


Mad Dog and the Ogre. For once in her life, she plays an important role.


The individual not so affectionately known as The Gimp. No homo.


"There's a Bad Guy Comin Through."


"Wingman"

Living around Milwaukee, it was relatively easy to avoid long road trips through the middle of nowhere. But driving to the thriving metropolis of Philips, WI, I no longer wondered how people could drink and drive.

Regardless, we took 2 cars up to this place, with Mad Dog/Gimp/Me/Gimp's Cousin in one car, and Wingman/Fat Roomate (nicknamed "Peanuts")/Ogre (Fat Roomate's Girlfriend) and a super evil bitch we call S.A. Fucker. Meeting us at the cabin were some of Mad Dog's friends from back home as well.

We got up there on a Friday night and did nothing earth shattering. Gimp's Cousin puked and rallied and puked, my vintage Pittsburgh Pirates hat was tossed in a bonfire and I nearly took out Peanuts's eye with a quarter (major no homo). Moral of the story: Pirates hats are off limits.

The next day however was totally different. Mad Dog's peeps from back home were doing what they did best (nhjic): drinking a shitload of Milwaukee's Best, aka "Beast." At least they know how to put their one talent to use. By attempting to keep up, us normal people were thoroughly annihilated. Eventually all these guys made a bonfire outside and sat by it, with the rest of us sitting inside playing drinking games etc. No homo to this entire paragraph.

At about 7 pm, those guys brought one of their own inside to tend to a wound. One of the dumbfucks sitting around the bonfire literally fell into it somehow, managing to burn himself pretty badly. I thought that would be the funniest shit I saw all night, but I was very wrong.

After that altercation was settled, those morons went back outside and continued to drink Beast. Peanuts and Mad Dog joined them, leaving only me/Gimp/Wingman (no homo) in the cabin. We continued to drink when suddenly the Ogre drunkenly stumbled into the cabin with us. There was certainly no love lost for the Ogre among everyone else inside that cabin. And she only made matters worse by turning on the Eminem Show for the umpteenth motherfucking time, picking My Dad's Gone Crazy to boot, and singing along to top it all off. She was drinking some Smirnoff Ice and it was about half done.

Within minutes, practically mid singing, the Ogre passed out, leaving a half finished Smirnoff Ice. The three of us discussed the next course of action. One of the other two came up with the idea that we should do something Tragedy Khadafi style. But this time, the piss wasn't headed for the ice; it was headed for the Ice.

The Wingman grabbed Ogre's half finished Smirnoff, went to the bathroom and proceeded to "refill" it, so that it was about 3/4 full. After closing and shaking, we felt that the mixed drink was ready for consumption. We woke the Ogre up out of her drunken haze, at which point the three of us admonished her for not finishing the drink. After the three of us uttered the now notorious phrase, "No Fallen Soldiers," to her, the Ogre unwittingly became a seasoned veteran of water sports.