whoa!

Let's just say "whoa" desribes last night. Not "wooah," like Bonnie would like to argue is the correct way to transcribe my new favorite phrase, but "whoa." Okay, so the trouble all started with this bottle of wine - a bottle of Beringer Cabernet Sauvignon to be a little more precise. We were reading books on our couch, like good little people with literary aspirations tend to do. We had just come back from the coffee shop on State, another coffee shop that is staffed by super cute barista boys, this boy's name being Tyler. Tyler is one of "the cute boys" we had seen around town, our first "repeat" that we had multiple sightings of, and so it was even more exciting to see him working at Steep and Brew, when we stoped in there last night for some caffeine. At the coffee shop, we plotted our escape. We decided that since we had still yet to pay our rent for the summer, and since we had still yet to sign a lease, and since we sort of hate living with the very male residents of Babcock house, that we would skip out, and move into one of the numerous places being sublet. Well at home, we called some places, and none of the people were home that we called, so we read some books, and decided to open the bottle of Cab, as has been previously mentioned.

We moved the party downstairs after we realized that no one was in the living room and that the digital cable was ours for the audiovisual delight. We decided to watch people we recognized but have never met, people in exciting outfits and marching band jackets- we watched the MTV movie awards, and before we knew what was what, we had finished off the bottle of Cab. We then went upstairs to put on some shoes to go into the kitchen, which is downstairs. The kitchen floor is the nastietst thing your feet will probably ever have to touch and so we always like to wear shoes when we go into the kitchen. While putting on shoes upstairs, I kept the drinks flowing and poured some Captain Mo rum into a mug. This also was probably another contributing factor to the O.O.C.ness that would soon follow. We went downstairs and made some Amy's Burritos, put on some rockin music, and drank some more booze, by this point, pretty thoroughly trashed. Shannon, the hearthrob of the Babcock house came downstairs and we were so excited to talk to him. Way way too excited. Alcohol and caffeine can tend to make you too excited. Especially when combined. What was said is pretty much a blur of embarrassing lines that we can recall having said loudly and brashly. Bonnie said something akin to, "I love hippies!!!!! I just hate their music." She said this quite a few times. He asked us what we do. And we said, "Drink!" We told him about too many embarrassing things that we most definitly would not have done had we been sober, but that is why we were glad we were drunk, so we could talk to Shannon like we had always wanted to.

After that little encounter and after the plates had been rinsed, we headed back upstairs to our room where more alcohol was consumed, music was put on, and so were facial masks. It seemed like a fun idea to take pictures of ourselves in the facial masks with Bonnie's new digital camera. That probably was a good idea. What probably wasn't, or at the least, was slightly out of control, was what this soon descended into. We wanted crazy pictures. And hey, nudity's pretty crazy. So, fairly shortly after the camera had been taken out, we were taking naked pictures of ourselves. And we were drunk, and had lots of sexual energy, and so very soon we were taking dirty naked pictures. There was the call for props. And so soon we were masturbating with the empty wine bottle, me sticking it up my ass; Bonnie sticking it you know where. Some pictures of me stroking my cock. Some pictures of Bonnie using her vibrator. Then after we had taken far too many sets of incriminating pictures, we each went to our beds to go to sleep. Me on the top bunk, Bonnie on the bottom, sort of talking about how out of control it was. There was mention of how we should have used the paddles, and soon Bonnie was out of bed, going downstairs to get one of the Babcock paddles used for initiation of the new ag boys. And so, the camera was also brought out again, and boy oh boy, did I have far too much fun with that paddle. I started spaking myself with it, and yes, this is also somewhat embarrassing and definitly very out of control seeming now, but at the time, it was the best idea going. Bonnie took some turns with the paddle. There are some shots of me with the paddle hanging from my cock, some shots of me sticking the paddle end up my ass, some shots of "BABCOCK" with my cock right next to it, and I can still visualize the picture of me fellating the paddle. Bonnie was equally out of control with the paddle. And once her memorey card got full again, we called it a night, and went to bed. Or, at least got into our beds. Bonnie asked me if I would be upset if she used her vibrator, and I said that I didn't, that I was planning on masturbating in bed. And so, the two of us, masturbated in our beds until we fell asleep. Fun times in Madison. Some people call it Mad Town.