Monday, November 07, 2005

Areolas and Such

This will be a long post, but so help me God, every single word is worth reading. Except the very last one.

Ahhh, Bloomington. There's nothing quite like a fall weekend at a Big Ten campus. Leaves falling, beer flowing, people having sex on crowded hotel room floors. This weekend had its share of all three.

It started out rather demurely. Jester, NaviKate, and I arrived at the Metz Suite about 8:30 on Friday night. The Belangers were already there. Again, for those who don't know what the Metz Suite is, it's the entire 6th floor of the IU Union's hotel. It was originally going to be the apartment of a filthy rich alum (Dr. Arthur Metz), but he died before its completion. He loved killing animals, both large and small, as you can see by the d├ęcor. Anyway, IU converted the bedrooms into hotel rooms and now it's reserved for visiting world leaders, dignitaries, celebrities, and 27-year-old former trustees named Jamie Belanger. There is a huge main room with vaulted ceilings, a side room with a couple couches, 2 bedrooms, a total of 3 full bathrooms, and a kitchen.

Joining us for the weekend were Ryan "Pissed Off" Christoff, Kyla "I Wish I Went to School in the Real Bloomington" Kase, Ari "Sister-in-Law 1" Pope, and Lizzie "Sister-in-Law 2" Pope. Also, Holt "Gimme Some" Hedrick and four of his law school buddies were in town judging the Moot Court competition at the law school. They were as follows: Sean, Dave (who, incidentally, didn't think I drank), Mike, and Jacob. **Certain last names have been deleted to save the innocent and the guilty**

Once everyone was in town, we went to the staple of B-town bars, Nick's. Little did we know that it would be the beginning of the end. After a couple drinks, some chick who Mike knew came up to him and started talking to him. She is a senior at IU. He is a 26-year-old attorney. To say that her boobs were close to falling out of her shirt would be like saying that the Irish like drinking. As Christoff said, "I could have blown on them and they would have fallen out." Without knowing her name, I can only assume that it was Areola the Uberslut. She was to women what System of a Down is to music (for those of you out there who think that System of a Down is good or makes good music, please try to understand that you are horribly wrong). So amused was everyone in our group by the show Areola was putting on that the ladies kept posing for pictures in front of the unsuspecting Areola for the sole purpose of getting a shot of her mongoloid ta-tas. The fruits of the ladies' labor can be seen here:

As the evening progressed, it was clear that Areola wanted Mike to touch her in certain places, as they had apparently done two years ago. We all went to the Upstairs Pub, and while the rest of us enjoyed some AMFs, Mike and Areola made out by the bar. By the time the bar closed, Areola's feelings had apparently subsided, since she had gone to another bar (Kilroy's) without Mike. No worries, though, because a nice trip to LaBamba was all everyone needed to get their minds off of Areola's areolas.

By the time we left Bamba's it was about 3 or 3:30. We all headed back to the hotel, since we had to get up around 7:30 or 8 for tailgating. So that's that, right? Wrong. More wrong than a basketball-playing midget.

Let me set the stage for you. The 2 hotel rooms are set off from the main room and the side room. The Belangers were in one hotel room and Kate, Ari, Lizzie, and Kyla were in the other hotel room. In the main room, it was Jessie and I sleeping on our turbo sweet inflatable bed, Christoff and Dave sleeping on the couches, and a random chick that went to law school with all those guys sleeping on the floor (she would have been sleeping at her undergrad sister's sorority house, but Dave refused to walk her home after he realized either that he was not going to get any or that it involved walking). In the side room, Sean and Jacob are sleeping on the couches, Holt is sleeping on another inflatable bed, and Mike is supposed to be sleeping on the floor somewhere. There is a sliding door between the side room and the main room that we closed to keep any noise out. If only it had worked.

At around 4:30, as we were all drifting happily into unconsciousness, I was awoken when Ryan asked, "Are you serious?" A couple minutes earlier I heard the elevator ding, but didn't think much of it. As it turns out, Areola was not out of our lives.

For the next 45 minutes to an hour, Mike and Areola put on an aural extravaganza, right on the other side of the sliding door that we had so innocently closed. Less than 10 feet from Holt, Sean, and Jacob, Mike offered his honor. Areola honored his offer. All night long it was honor and offer.

If you're not understanding the ridiculousness of the situation, let me emphasize that Mike was banging the shit out of this chick on the floor of a room where 3 of his best friends were sleeping and a non-sound-blocking sliding door away from 4 other people. An empty bathroom was about 6 feet away. Ryan and I did what we could to try to deter anymore moaning. We talked loudly. I called Holt twice (he answered both times, laughing out loud). We even clapped after they were done the second time.

Finally, after Round 3, they stopped, just in time for someone to hear Jacob puking on the floor. Jacob's insane intoxication saved the rest of us from having to hear Round 4. Jamie got up around the time Jacob puked (it was about 5:45am at this point). He was awake enough to go to the store and get some carpet cleaner to clean up this puke.

My phone's alarm rang at 7:30. I was not amused, but I knew that I had to get everyone up to go tailgating. For the next few minutes, I tried not to fall asleep standing up. Finally, I decided to go to the bathroom, which was in the side room. The sliding door was locked, so I went around to the main door of the side room. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. When I had last seen Mike and Areola, they were post-coitus, laying in each other's arms, pants on both of 'em and a t-shirt on Areola. This was no longer the case.

It turns out that between the time Jamie finished cleaning up Jacob's puke stain sometime around 6:30 and when I woke up at 7:30, Round 4 had occurred. This time there were casualties, the most noticeable of which were Areola's jeans and panties. Oh yes, she was laying there with only a yellow t-shirt on, vagina firmly planted half on the carpet and half against Mike's jeans, and ass facing the world (with Mike's hand gently resting on her right butt cheek).

This is the kind of shit I live for. Rather than cover them up or risk waking them by using the bathroom, I quietly awoke nearly everyone else in the Metz Suite, one by one, and brought them to see the show. Reactions ranged from outright disgust to pure glee. Pictures were taken. In fact, I think the only people in the Metz Suite who didn't get to view Areola's ass that morning were AC (who, for those who don't know, is Jamie and Amy's 4-month-old and simply wouldn't have appreciated the hilarity of the situation), Jacob (who was on the couch next to them, so I didn't want to risk waking them up by telling him), and Areola herself.

Eventually, everyone was awake except Mike and Areola. We couldn't figure out how to wake them. Would we stand around and clap? Would Kyla place an unused condom in Areola's ass crack? Would Jessie flip out and start mercilessly kicking her? Finally, I just said, "Hey Mike, we're about to go tailgating. Are you going to join us?" He of course said "yes," to which I explained, "Okay, but there are a couple rules. First, everyone has to wear both shirts and pants. Second, no one is allowed to wear yellow shirts. Third, while tailgating, you're not allowed to have sex three times within 10 feet of your friends."

Areola turned out to be completely unashamed of anything she had done. She laid there on the carpet awake for like a half hour without even attempting to find her pants. I left for tailgating before she got up, but I imagine that the sound heard as she finally rolled over was like that of Velcro tearing apart.

So you think the story can't get any better, right? Again, wrong. More wrong than having sex three times in front of your friends who are trying to sleep. We come to find out that Areola was found puking topless in the Kilroy's bathroom by some of the bouncers when they were closing the place down. So the bouncers were calling people in her phone. They called Jacob's girlfriend in New York (whose number was in Areola's phone), who told the bouncers to call Mike. Mike then left the Metz Suite and returned with Areola. The yellow t-shirt that she was wearing in the morning was the shirt Kilroy's gives out to people who are turning 21. How someone ends up puking topless at a bar is beyond me, as is how she lost her shirt, as is how Mike fucked a girl who had just puked, as is how the other guys didn't go to a different room while Mike was banging Areola, as is how she ended up without pants on the next morning, as is how she wasn't embarrassed about it.

Anyway, tailgating was a good time. The highlight of the tailgate was that AC flicked me off. The highlight of the game was leaving it. We outscored Minnesota 21-14 for 3 of the 4 quarters, but the difference in the game ended up being those pesky 27 points they scored in the 3rd quarter. As you can see, former Hoosier All-American and current Pittsburgh Steeler wide receiver Antwaan Randle El was sitting right by me.



Saturday night we went to The Bluebird to see Dave and Rae. Good times were had by all, except for one small factor. For anyone who thinks that banning smoking in bars is a good idea, please reconsider your position. Now, instead of smelling only one thing in the bar (i.e., smoke), you get to smell everything else. And I do mean everything. Every spilled beer. Every burp. Every fart. Every raised armpit. Every roll of fat unable to be reached by soap. It was not good. And the worst part is that it wasn't even that crowded at the Bird. So please believe me when I say that smoking bans in bars are a terrible idea. The stench of smoke is far better than the stench of humans.

After returning from the bars that night, Ryan and I decided that Mike needed to take care of the purple panties that Areola had so graciously left in the Metz Suite. Ryan carefully lifted them from the statue on which they were resting and brought them to Mike, who promptly put them on his head. So now, in addition to his penis, his forehead has The Clap.


In addition, there was a tornado watch that Kate was freaking out about. To calm everyone's nerves, I did an astounding series of front flips onto my giant inflatable bed.


To cap it all off, we were blessed with a visit from Helio The Syphilitic Caped Mantelope, who sang everyone to sleep with his upbeat songs about life on the veldt as a promiscuous half human, half horned herbivore who shrouds himself in velour.

The next morning, we all went to Ladyman's Cafe for the best biscuits and gravy in the world, and on the drive home, my G-ride '91 Accord, Rhonda, hit the big 190,000 mile mark.

Poop.

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