Fgiving 22 - The Merry Pranksters
Ryan blacked out so hard Friday night that he woke up Saturday thinking he didn’t drink much and fell asleep early. The reality was he booted everywhere and I fell asleep holding his head up.
Also Friday Sklar continually grabbed ladies and told them to tell him when to stop, he was always immediately told to stop. Found him cuddling a spider in the morning. Also Sklar is easily trainable while drunk yelling "Sklar down" when he is seen talking to a girl makes him cower in fear and immediately run away.
I/all of Trudge missed Gary "Shitbird" Shay. It was his birthday yet he was not at the Ruck.
- Stefan had many dice rolls in play from seth (grow a goatee and show more than 50% of your body or something at all times). Also step had to buy everyone pizzas on saturday.
- Hot chocolate cause you'll say something about the cold. Probably something about pick up on Friday and how so many people showed up despite it being wicked cold.
- Durums on Saturday were also a dice roll for steve from Zac. Basically i extended my Fatness to everyone through my dice rolls.
- Probably something about when packages arrive cause you know why.
- Lefty Bear for the skills comp
- Currents that won prizes from me: Kiernan for a lay out, Alec for a lay out, Bryce for being the closest thing we have to frisbee royalty, Jeff for improving, Calvin for inappropriate comments, Hank for playing well at pick up.
- I write all these things and I realize almost none of them have to do with the party. So someone else should fill in those parts.
Friday night began much like any other at FHouse. Enterprising seniors are at the ruck, rookies are trickling in, the sun is setting, weekend plans are being discussed. Safety is naturally high on the list of priorities. Then suddenly, about 20 alumni come in with some 30 racks or PBR and Busch to kick off FGiving. Casual drinking games in the 1st floor living room are complimented by polite mingling upstairs. The theme is "Merry Pranksters" and everyone has their best hippie garb. Enter Batman and Rachel wielding a metal barrel. Keg is tapped, glitter and fake blood go flying. The chamber of secrets is opened in the upstairs living room and the 1st floor kitchen gets extremely soapy. My memory quickly gets hazy at this point as the liquor is brought out but I do remember Grin making a vile concoction of vodka, kool aid, and hot sauce. Hat tourney teams are created haphazardly. Charles and I make a pact to plan FGiving party next year and do a better job. On to Saturday!
Games start at around 10:30 with the long pull competition. Scores are pretty good thanks to a steady tailwind. Temperatures hover around 25 which is the coldest FGiving I can remember. Steve delivers around 70 durums as Ali Baba's staff have the worst day of their lives. Next is the hat tournament with the TRC mixed in. First round: Purple>Red and Green>Blue. Second round: Green takes it home to get first dinner access, followed by purple then red then blue. Accuracy competition, currents vs alumni game, and team photos occur. Then we have about 1 hour to change and shower and go to the alumni house for dinner. Sadly this left no time for a formal meeting of the safety senate; dinner appetites suffer and danger levels are high. Marcus the groupie wears women's clothes. When questioned he said it was the only formal wear he could find at goodwill. That does not explain why he painted his nails. Mitch is MC in Max's absence and damn he looks good in a suit. The best Strut rookie Andrea accepts the tattoo, for real this time! She actually followed through. Charles goes with her and gets a trudge boot on his calf. Pictures are taken upstairs as the group breaks out in the Star Spangled Banner for some reason. I respectfully take a knee. At 8pm we get taped up with malt liquor bottles on our hands. Fat zac quickly chugs his 40s for the fastest overall. Not sure who the fastest current is but I do know I kept mine on for about 2 hours as I drink steadily and formulate the first theorem of 40 hands, and tell it to whoever would listen. A table gets broken as is tradition. Andrea, Sunshine, Andrea's boyfriend, and I do a post-40 disc downstairs under Mike Genovese's watchful supervision. I boot halfway through but get all the liquid into my gullet. Sunshine discards his clothes immediately afterward and DanD signs my shiny dome.
Sunday is the day for frolf and teary goodbyes. Ben Hoist wins the green jacket with a score of +2 and grover squats the night in an empty airbnb.
-As told by Matt "Tibbers" Lustbader
We can't ignore the fact that there was full frontal nudity from Sunshine, Kerns, and Step (not including the weiner warmer).
- There was a box of cigars.
- Zac's hard 40 training paid off, but we still don't have a gold jacket for him to show off his victory (what happened to the Markham furry vest??)
- On Friday I pint raced
GrinRachel with salsa versus beer and nearly won.
- Literally all of the cheese was eaten, and maybe a couple late night sausages.
There was a very fun game of death cup on Friday night that Seth livestreamed for some reason. Not sure why, although I'm sure Seth could give a much better description of the event and it's importance. I do know Mitch and I were playing lights out for a long while in the middle leading to multiple times where the death cup actually caught up to and clinked the base cup. I switched to the other side of the table for the final fight and completely fell apart granting victory to Carl who was playing on behalf of some Death Cup stakeholder.
There were many good die rolls throughout the weekend, including forcing Saucy to vomit in some drawers (sorry FHouse, not sure which) which took 40+ minutes and some help from Nolan's tickling finger (if you know what I mean). Sklar's car got peed on I heard, as is tradition, as well as many other things from diapers, to washing machines, in shampoo bottles, and even baking utensils. But like responsible citizens of this great world, we did make sure to wash all of our 40s.
Also- TB I don't recall signing your head, so I don't think it happened as I was sober enough to be practicing skateboarding upstairs at 3am on Saturday.
Fgiving 22 - Can one be tooo experienced?
Haven't done a rambling synopsis in a few years, so here goes. This year may be the first year where I've said to myself, "huh, I really could be this kids dad... I should definitely not be here." 2001 was my first FGiving. 2017 was my daughter's first FGiving. As the wicked witch once said: "What a whirl, what a whirl!?!?!?" Well let's dive right in shall we? Friday night I arrived really really early this year to the party (830ish). To the Ruck did not happen, mostly because the Ruck is no longer the Ruck (real plates = real weird place to go on fgiving). Also I wanted to set up for Death Cup, which DrunkAssGames requires I determine a winner for this party thing that we do (so that explains the live stream). Carl won for Team Deathcuk for our Legendary DrunkAssParty VII. Go to drunkassgames.com to learn more and buy things to support a super old alumni who is cranky and meeeeen all the time. So I arrive super early and everyone seems way too happy and way too wasted. No alumni on the first floor, all the alumni on the second floor. Front room is starting to look like fucking Narnia, so I get out of there super quick as Grin is slowly drawing ancient demonic runes on the walls with glow in the dark paint. Jmac I find, we embrace in dusty old man ways. I then shotgun, a bead appears (I must shotgun again for said bead, I get last, I am now green, which matches my attire, huzzah the plan is working perfectly). A gaggle of young people appear (get off my lawn... I glare) they then engage me in a whomever brings me a shot first gets bead. I refuse all shots for reasons and throw them on the ground. I then drink one, it is bourbon [again part of the plan]. The lawn is now too full to continue and no Eli to engage with so we must Death Cup before I can no longer be entertaining. It happens and it is glorious. Jmac appears right after all is put away and safe. "Fuck this table!" slam table is now no longer a table. "Who would be so foolish to put a table in such a confined and routinely destroyed location?" Jmac declares to me as he insanely laughs and looks about his destruction in gleeful fury. I stoicly respond, "It twas my table..." Jmac looks at me with pause. He knows that depending on what state we are at this could be game on, which he has seen in the past, but we embrace in a warrior like falcon punch and all is according to plan. Eli arrived sometime in there and regailed me with Puddles the Sad Clown. I embraced many others they were all fine individuals. I learn that RussBuss finally graduated. Sauce is now my new favorite current narrowly beating Dane in my brain for dominance. My god the memories of him nekedmonkeypunching the ceiling. Pizza happens, that guy that keeps getting naked is behind the counter again trying to make pizza, I expect a dance party, none occur... I eat pizza that has crust all around it... it is like eating capn crunch without milk for a week. My mouth is sad, my stomach is happy. The plan was well executed.
Saturday arrives with the day star expecting me to move fast with an infant. It goes surprisingly well. Jennie is cute. Games happen, I do not get a durhaaam. Alumni win. Dinner was way too early, I blame steve as it is part of the plan. I wear gloves all day, which Jennie refers to as my robber gloves, but not cool, but like Home Alone homeless robber gloves that are a tad rapey. She does not realize that the plan dictates that I wear gloves to protect my dainty fingers from the ravaging coldfire that is both ductape and 40 (she may still be a current). My butt is full of poop and ready to be expelled after the 1st 40, I am also wrapped and ready. Follow the plan... The 40s are gone in record time. I blame Jmac and his promise of post vomit cubans. We hotbox the shit out of a box of Cubans. I light some guys weird coat on fire. The plan is going astray or more like ashtray amirite? Why is it that whenever I look over to my right I am always looking directly at Steve's penis (plan is spiraling, remember to blame steve more). Eli and I are ready! But first we must brown out! Back in baby! Beer pong planning is at hand. The new planning is occuring in a strange young persons room, all impulses are to poop under the pillow. I now remember that I pooped already. The new plan: If I win I take all of Eli's facial hair and an inch of his locks. If he wins, I lose everything but my sideburns. Plan engages, Eli is terrible, I give him a partner with added shots. I win, We play again 10 cup add more 40s this plan is terrible, game is half over, cheese is somehow in every beer pong cup and all over everyone, Tyr sounds the battle horn of dance. We dance. Melanie and Jimmy watch as I defeat Eli in the slowest of battle dances. I am amazing at beer pong; to celebrate I shall handstand and put crotch in Elis mouth. Jimmy will celebrate by barricading the first floor from the rest of the first floor. We must pizza. That naked guy has marker all over his body, he will not be starting a dance party at pizzabellas (the plan is truly lost). We arrive home!
-Seth "Eli you owe me hair" Stewart
PS: Best freakin' Uber driver ever Saturday night, Worst driver Friday night. I offered him 20 bucks to stop for pizza and to bring Eli home because he was so defeated he could not walk. After a long discussion about kids and life, I ask him what is your best advice you could give to a new parent. Without hesitation he said, "Experience. You'll learn everything through experience." The plan, stick to the plan.
PPS Id like to thank the Watts' and Hilton's for holing us up for the weekend. I'd like to thank Jimmy and Melanie for being amazing and fun all the damn time! I'd like to thank Jennie for allowing me to partake as hard as I did! I'd like to thank Jmac [2nd oldest dood ;) ] for appreciating me for me and for having really really good cubans [at least they tasted good after 2 40s]. I'd like to thank all the people I was mean to, if it weren't for you then I'd have no reason to keep coming back to fgiving :).
PPPS: I did not spellcheck this or proof read it. I know I know Ill never be president.
To include more people (apparently my last email was 80% about Eli and I), here is a list of further observations:
1) Step was die rolled at Max & Morgan's wedding to grow a goatee and to be at least 50% skin exposed at all times at fgiving. I think he succeeded that dapper motherfer. One of Morgan's RPI friends (roommate) was also die rolled to come to fgiving. I did not see her there.
2) Fat Zac got iced while looking for something in a cabinet. Grin got iced when pulling an adult diaper out of the packaging. One of them was more entertaining than the other.
3) Keg stands to 11 and only to 11 are now my favorite thing. Naked pizza man won with 11 seconds.
4) Steve needs to stop wearing kilts... and then needs to not be at eye level whenever I look right.
5) Mitch was not as bad as expected at delivering MC duties. Also prize support was amazeballs. I especially liked that Melanie won the demon clown suit and Jimmy won the zany yeti xmas shirt. Both apparently did exactly equally as well at skilz & dilz.
6) Andrea and Alex are both good people. My emails are always meant to be taken with a grain of salt and a sippy water cooler cup of vomit.
7) Firsts for this year: 1st rookie tattoo, 1st adult diapers, 1st Solo Cup race of salsa (its always amazing to watch Mike eat/drink things), 1st Parent Point, 1st eat 18 eggs in a day?
8) Bats and I won 3 games of crossfire (1st time either of us have played) Friday night, I roshamed to change the stupid double bounce rule to end the game (we were always up by like 4 cups), I lost. the last game ended with me getting the double bounce in, but someone saying it didnt count because of some bullshit new tie rule, we were up by 5 cups, so I flipped the table and everyone thanked me for being a great guy. bats and I hugged a lot
9) Zac, Melanie, Jimmy, Jennie, and I played Who wants to be a Cylon? Sunday with deli and brew. Because I can't read too good humanity won. Melanie is probably better at games than me as she shot me in the face at the most ideal time.
10) Rach, Bats, Zac, Cal, Mike, & Grin were all parents this year at fgiving. We all managed to make cute functional children. We missed Yoon this year for the full 5 alumni Dad point.
There is probably more stuff, but 10 seems good.
Allow me to regale you of my sparing memories of FGIVING XXII Part 1, bestowed gracefully with the ill-planned theme of Merry Minstrels:
I arrived fashionably late on time to the party after spectating the [not-so-]merry minstrel known as Puddles upon the landmark Troy Savings Bank Music Hall stage, somberly bellowing his charmingly strange, smashingly mashed-up melodies, and curiously gallivanting about the stage like the melancholic clown that he is. I'm already quite whetted with a bevy of brews and a trick or two of liquor, so I'm in rare common form to rage my fucking face off! I master my way through the dungeon on a valiant quest to serve my inner Eli-monster his ever-so-craving desire for all things alcohol. I am very quickly met on the first floor with several bottles of the cheapest liquor I've had in nearly a decade (Curse you Montezuma, you shall not have your revenge!); I rip several hefty swigs of Evan Williams, and wash it down with a tinge and a tingle of Smirnoff. I play the fool, for I am cleverly disguised as entirely sober as I commence through the house.
I find that shit is split between the tiers of the house, discovering the elders on top (as it should be, mind you), after trudging my way through the sea of dogs below. I am immediately greeted by an onslaught of jovial jokers who in summation ages to an era of gluttony, and courts, and monarchy, and elderberries, and sloths, and breakfast cereals, and....I digress...Through the first gateway atop the stairs, there is a large swath of bards drunkards harmonizing their rhymes slurs, playing Death Cup; I grab a spot at the table for a sure and certain way to make my way through a couple of beers (as I am in no state to be bouncing quarters, with my sausage-like finger links unable to overcome their lack of dexterity). I am very nearly the first one out, as is tradition. I finish 2.5 beers in a matter of minutes, accept my defeat, and resign myself to my previous quest.
I meander forward and suddenly find myself in the Chamber of Secrets, which is strobing and pulsating vividly as a bunch of midget-like harlequins sling ink and liquor my way. I regain my fortitude with several more sweaty swigs from the shitty liquor, growing ever more in need of some suds for sobriety. I am then met by a very suggestive joker insiting that it was very important to discuss safety before delving deeper into the unknown abyss of FGiving. We band together the most strapping of adventurers, and head beyond the Chamber of Secrets to the Den of the Green Dragon; smoke was already emitting from the Den beyond the dancing lights of the Chamber of Secrets amidst the countless wounded soldiers; the Dragon's slumber had come to an end. Our band of ill-equipped, but deftly capable champions roamed across the peril that lay before us to find ourselves to the Den. Upon our arrival to the Den, we find a friendly Green Dragon not so intent on roasting us and eating our bones, but rather getting roasted with us and something about stones. He works proficiently through his Dragon's treasure chest, and we proceed to very carefully take pause for safety.
We all become much-enhanced, and I feel my focus amplified, and swelled with [over-]confidence in my abilities. I venture forth looking to return to the quest's beginning to peruse its wares, and perhaps procure myself some more swill, and perhaps find this mystical iron pig I have heard so much about. I head out of the Dragon's Den and find a convenient passage that again reunites me with the place I had found myself earlier; but I am un-trusting whether it is simply the Dragon's guise or whether I had found myself here again so quickly. I am on another level! But by God, I must continue! It appears the monsters are stronger this time, and the expectation for amount of spirits I must consume has grown higher. To appease them, with a mighty swing of forearm, I aim the bottle for the sky and consume as much as I can remember.It's a god damn trick!I feel myself quickly fading! MY COHERENCY IS GONE!!
WW"What is this? Where am I? How did I get here? Oh, well there's still people here, let's fuckin' partayyyyyyy! Wait, everybody is leaving or has been vanquished, to my homestead whence we shall drink more!" I recall exclaiming to myself in a drunken stupor. "How in the fuck did I get home? Let us play drinkin ggames!
I awaken the "next" day late into the afternoon, with hazy recollections from the previous evening. It seems the Dragon's spell and the monsters' tricks have worn off, and I realize that I am not yet done with my conquest!
What will happen to the mighty viking when he returns? Will he be successful on his furthering conquest to slay the Bamboozled Boozelekins and sobriety everywhere? Stay tuned to find out!
DISCLAIMER: No proof-reading, pure stream-of-consciousness. Pretty sure that's what happened. Live the life of a Mighty Viking!
- Ewump the "hair for a hair, I didn't lose fair a square" Eli-Monster
The Ganz Jersey of Doom
So a Mr. Jonathan Ganz graciously volunteered his super duper old (99ish) jersey [Vertical Watermelon] to be a legacy trophy of sorts to the currents.
With some discussion it was and will ever more be passed on at each fgiving to the current that does one of the following:
1) Best Rookie (who agrees to get a tattoo from the Alums).
2) Winner of the Saturday Hands
This year for the first time a wonderful new rookie took up the offer of the tattoo (mostly because of Ganz's jersey)! I met her, I don't remember her name (edit: the Rookie girl's name is Andrea and she's quite pleasant.), I saw the deed, and I informed her that she must bring back the Vertical Watermelon for next FGiving.
To the Current's Liason, please remind her of said discussions for I think she had just finished a disc and may not remember.
To Ganz, your head is gigantic and has thus stretched the collar to a glorious width. I wore your jersey with honor and gratitude friday night and it made me emboldened to pee higher and fart louder.
That is all!
Seth "gungaladunga" Stewart