Salutations my superbly sensational sud-sippers of South Bend. It's the Kess here with the 4-1-weezy on the sauciest shenanigans that are rockin' and schockin' the scene in the greater dome-opolous area. So buckle up your safety belts, put your tray tables in the upright and locked position and prepare to fly the friendly skies with your brotha' from anotha motha' Captain Kess (mile high club anyone?)
The Kess's titillating, topsy-turvy tale for this week follows the wildest, wackiest night that the Kess has seen in all his years of extensive experience in dealing with such nights. For purposes of confidentiality and to keep the SEC off of our backs, we'll just call him kRaZyKiD42069. Krazy's night begins as all nights do with an obligatory hour long symposium of sorts with his dorm-matez. Our hero would then leave the dorm and begin to make his way over to Notre Dame's bastion for underage drinking and irresponsible hookups, El Creek de Tortugas. (As all my little Kesslings out there know by now, when you swim with the Tortugas, sobriety is often left upstream without a paddle.)
While chillaxing with some of the more accomplished drinkers of Our Lady's university, Krazy would continue sampling a number of different libations. At this point, already pretty bellig, he would find himself in an intimate conversation with a ferocious vixen. In an attempt to "seal the deal" Krazy mustered up the courage to compliment her on the black top that she was wearing. Unfortunately, the top was navy! Unphased by this ghastly goof, KK hopped back aboard the tipsy train. Next stop: Inebriation Station. Krazy would proceed to take out his Razr and call one of his oldest childhood buddies about the prospects of their home town team. In his present state however, his friend could barely understand him because his speech was so slurred! Afterwards, upon realizing KK was seven sheets to the wind (yes, that is possible), his friends would embark on the journey back to campus with our protagonist in tow. Before heading back to their bunks, however, our adventurers would ensure a stop at campus's late night haven for greasy gratification, Sbarro (This will be important later). "Tired" from a long night of drinking, Krazy would eventually wake to the sound of his alarm clock wondering what he did the night prior.
After examining his surroundings, however, he would realize the awful truth. He had fallen asleep with his head at the wrong end of the bed and his feet were resting on the pillows! To make matters even worse (if that is still possible), his contacts were still in! Krazy would proceed to turn off his alarm clock and rush off to Friday's hangover recovery center, DeBartolo Hall for some more shots ... of education! Already battling a vicious stomachache (remember the late night 'za?), he encountered his worst nightmare ... the most awful thing that could happen to any college student - nay, any human being ... his most colossal catastrophe of all ... a small to medium size pizza sauce stain on his Chinos! Alas, that concludes our tale for this week. If there is any lesson that can be gleaned from kRaZyKiD42069 it is this: Lay off the sauce, or the sauce will lay on you!
Win one for the Kessler!
Chillaxing,
Kesslings
P.S. May your liquor be clear and your nights hazy.
Kessler and ... is a non-profit
pharmaceutical organization in search of a cure for male pattern baldness. Matt Lisowski, Fritz Shadley, Pat Canna and Rick Loesing contributed to this column. They can be contacted at kesslerand@gmail.com
The views expressed in this column are those of the authors and not
necessarily those of The Observer.
