Dear Staff, Writers and Audience of The Annual,
I sadly regret to inform all of you I no longer drink: a few months ago I dislocated my knee, due to a case of wrestlingidous!
Wrestelingidous occurs when you mix alcohol, good weather and a vast amount of backyard to wrestle with your friends. It all started in the garage of my friend’s house. All of my friends and I gathered to take a shot of rumplemint vodka in celebration of my friend’s 23rd birthday. Some of my friends weren’t able to handle the shots in front of them, but I held on. I was able to hold on past my seventh shot, but that’s when it hit me…Wrestelingidous! I walked up to a couple of my friends and slightly pushed their shoulders, initiating a wrestling match. One of them proceeded to push me back harder, and that’s when the chaos began! My friend immediately pinned me down.
I got back up and said, “Nooooh..w-wr-estle meh again, I-I- wasn’t even tryinggg!” *belch!*
He said, “Nah.”
And that’s when it hit me again…Wrestlingidous!
I went to grab my friend’s right arm; he tried to block it, but I got him by faking it and grappling around him. He tried to get out of it, but there was just too much Nicolas all around him. That’s when I made my move to bring him down; but suddenly I heard a *Snap!* And that’s when I fell down to the ground and felt a shock of pain run down my leg. “F*ck! My leg’s broken!” I said.
My friends huddled around me in shock. One friend crouched down, touched it and said, “Yep, that’s broken.”
A few minutes later the ambulance came. The paramedics gave me five shots of morphine. I still felt pain, so they rushed me to the ER. Immediately, they took an X-ray and gave me two more shots of morphine. My doctor came back with the results of the X-ray and said my leg was just dislocated. She then grabbed hold of my leg, said, “Brace yourself,” and popped it back into place.
So now I sit here with both legs intact and $3000 in medical bills.
I smoke pot now.
We deeply regret to inform you that Nicolas Contreras has drunken too much and is now stuck in a Jaeger coma. Doctors say for one to come out of a Jaeger coma requires an abundance of beautiful ladies’ numbers. Please email all numbers to email@example.com.
Together we will “hopefully” get Nic out of this coma.
(The Annual is not responsible for any regrets)
In Nico’s absence, I (Kevin Cole) will be filling in, and am pleased to share with you a house favorite:
One Part Welch’s Brand Grape Juice
One Part Vodka
Mix well and enjoy.
1 (12 fluid oz.) can frozen pink lemonade concentrate
12 fluid oz. gin
1/2 cup vanilla ice cream
1/2 cup frozen strawberries
1 cup crushed ice
In a blender, combine pink lemonade, gin, ice cream, strawberries and ice. Blend until smooth. Pour into glasses and serve.
Here’s another one:
1 package frozen pink lemonade concentrate
1 cup Canadian Mist® whisky
1 cup water
1/2 container whipped cream
Combine all ingredients in a blender with half a cup of crushed ice. Blend until smooth. Serve in a tall glass.
“Walk Through This Bathroom with me”
Recently I visited my family in northern Wisconsin, and I was invited by my cousin to join her and her friends out to the bar. As a city dweller visiting a country town, going to a country bar seemed pretty cool, yet aberrant. So we head out to this bar called “Poor Folks”—the location of which I’m still unawares. All I know is we were driving down a street and all of a sudden trees were everywhere, and then we arrived. We walk into the bar, and the place is packed with locals from around the town. The bar is painted in all yellow, and the entire ceiling is covered with George Jones albums with modern country music blaring in the background. My cousin introduces me to the bar owner and a few of the bartenders; afterwards, we find a table to sit at and begin drinking. The night goes on, and so do the rounds of beer. I tell my cousin I’ll be right back and head for the restroom.
It takes some time to get from one end to the other of the fully packed bar, all while trying to hold it in and find my sense of balance. So I walk up to the bathroom door and open it. I take a step towards where I think the toilet might be, and I hear a woman’s gasp. I look up and see a girl sitting there with her pants down. She looks at me and immediately grabs for her pants. I turn around and walk right out as fast as I can. I wait outside the restroom, and soon she walks out. She said was so sorry; the girl’s bathroom was being used. I said it’s no problem and laugh. I went into the bathroom and noticed there was no lock on the door even though it was a single bathroom with only a urinal and a toilet next to each other. So I take a leak, and as I was taking a leak, a drunken man walked in and rushed to the toilet next to me and took off his pants and sat down. I don’t even know if I was done taking a leak—all I know is I zipped up my pants and said “Nope.” I walk out of the bathroom and walk up to the bar to get a drink, so I could forget the drunken man’s rear end. I get to the bar and notice all the bartenders are different. I recognize one of them— the same girl I walked in on was a bartender. She notices me and walks up to me, smiling, saying, “Once again, I’m so sorry.” I say, “Please believe me: If it was the other way around, you probably would have fainted.”
This month’s drink is a Red Headed Slut Cocktail. I will also tell you how to make a Lindsay Lohan Cocktail; , which, in all honesty, is a Redheaded Slut with a dash of coke. HA! (I apologize to any of the pretty ladies I may have offended.)
Red Headed Slut Cocktail
2 part cranberry
1 part Jaeger
1 part peach schnapps
Pour peach schnapps and Jaeger in a cocktail glass, along with cranberry juice. Stir, and serve.
Lindsay Lohan Cocktail
1 part peach schnapps
1 part Jaeger
2 part cranberry
Splash of coke
Pour peach schnapps and Jaeger, along with cranberry juice over ice, in a cocktail glass. Stir, top with a shot of coke, and serve.
A month ago I went to a fast food place, and this girl at the register started to talk to me and we hit it off. She got me to laugh, I made her laugh, “Tee hee hee.” Exciting, right?! So from then on whenever I would go to this place, I’d keep an eye out for her, and maybe one day I’d get the nerve to ask her out. Eventually I saw her and we talked, but I totally chickened out and didn’t ask. What was wrong with me?!
A month went by and I hadn’t seen her in a while. I thought I would never get a chance to ask her out. Well…I…thought…WRONG!
One night, a couple buddies and I had a few drinks and were having a good time. By the middle of the night we were hungry and craving Taco Bell.
My pal Kiefer drove, and the rest of us piled in; I sat directly behind him. So we took off to the nearest Taco Bell in search of those new Cool Ranch Tacos. After ordering our entrees we proceeded to go to the cashier’s window. As soon as we pulled up, I looked at the cashier, and I couldn’t believe it. It was her!
She looked over to grab my buddy’s credit card and saw that I was sitting in the backseat. She said, “Hey!” with a smile on her face.
Kiefer pulled forward a bit and rolled down my window. Not a good idea, especially in my state of mind.
I waved and slurred out a “helllllloooooo” preceded by a “howy aurrr youu…doin.”
She looked at me with a smile (a smile that secretly said, “Ah, crap”) and talked to me. The only problem is, I didn’t know what she was saying nor what she was talking about.
She turned to grab our food and at that moment I thought it would be the best time to give her my card and say to her, “Hey, you should give me a call sometime and we can hang out,” but this didn’t happen.
Instead, I fumbled around in my pockets, trying to find my stupid card. She turned back around and handed Kiefer the food. I grabbed my card and shot my arm right out the window, card in hand.
She looked at me, grabbed the card, and I said, “Hey callll me sometime…if you ever wanna…you know.” And my friend drove away.