This New Year's Eve sucked! Me and my roommates, Katie and Kyle, were supposed to go to this so called "block party" at our neighbor's house down the street, but said neighbor was three hours late to his own party, and everybody came and went long before it got started.

Anyway, so the guy and his wife, (both hippies in their forties), eventually show up and break out a bunch of stuff to eat and drink. Since me, Kyle, and Katie are the only ones there, there's a CRAPLOAD of food, and I started chowing down Jabba the Hutt-style. I drank all their Crown Royal too, which is what they get for fucking up my New Year's Eve. It'd have been different if there were hot chicks there, but Rumpleforeskin messed everything up by dicking around and not being home when he said he was gonna.

Many drinks later, me, Kyle and Katie decide to bale on this super lame excuse for a party, opting instead to watch the ball drop at this bar down the street called Burgermeister. I was pissed though, so I decided to leave my hosts a little present. While they were all downstairs shooting pool in the basement, I snuck up to the master bedroom and infiltrated the toilet. Keep in mind, I'd consumed my weight in cheese cubes, hot wings, and pigs-in-a-blankets, and evil things were stirring in my bowels. I knew it was going to be a dump of supernatural foulness, as I could actually HEAR the shit demons hissing and howling in my gut.

"You WILL free us, Mike!" they snarled, and I wasn't about to argue.

Unfortunately, I wasn't about to sit on that hippie tainted toilet seat either, so I set to work cloaking it in recycled toilet paper. My meticulous attention to detail was costing me precious time, for the fecal orcs were waging a furious assault on the black gates of Assdor.

Finally, I'd built up enough of a toilet paper barrier to sit down, and I did so, then raising my arms to the heavens and proclaiming in a loud voice, "RAMSES, LET MY PEOPLE GO!!!"

What I saw then was not meant for mortal eyes.

A continuous shotgun blast of bourbon-laced diarrhea propelled me off of the toilet and into the adjacent vanity sink, then to watch in horror, (via the mirror), as the back wall went from white with blue trim, to brown with green chunks. It was like watching one of those firehoses flailing about with no one holding it. That's what my butthole was doing to me. I was bent over the vanity sink trying to hold on as my ass wrenched side to side in a holocaust of spewing evil.

Okay, okay, that's not what really happened. I actually just slipped off of the toilet seat because I was so drunk. HOWEVER, the end result was the same. Hurricane Shit utterly destroyed my neighbor's bathroom, and I began to panic.

Using their hand towels, I cleaned myself up as best I could, periodically tossing each befouled rag into the dirty clothes hamper.

The smell was so bad I vomited at one point, but not in the toilet. I vomited in their bathtub. Think about it, with the toilet itself lacquered in abomination, I couldn't risk getting close to it. Plus, with my pants around my ankles, I couldn't maneuver, and the tub was right there.

"BLAAAAAAAA!!!!"

By now, I'm approaching the fifteen minute mark, meaning, I've been gone for that long. Despite the fact that my compatriots and our gracious hippie hosts were as drunk as I was, I knew I'd be missed soon, so I had to wrap things up.

Please understand that the hellish situation I was in was untenable, and my only option was escape. You can't really talk your way out of something like that. For one, they're gonna wanna know why the hell I was in the upstairs bathroom instead of the one downstairs, and my answer would have to be something like, "Well, I was pissed at your lame party, so I came up here to stink up your bathroom. But things went wrong, HORRIBLY, HORRIBLY WRONG!!! God help me... LOOK AT WHAT I'VE DONE!!!"

Nope, definitely not. Escape was the only option.

Amazingly, I really didn't get anything on my clothes. Sure, my ass and the back of my legs needed a good wiping, but my jeans were around my ankles when the turd volcano went off, and aside from some puke on the front of my Tommy Hilfiger fleece pullover, I was okay.

After washing my hands and face, I tiptoed to the bathroom door and peered out to find the bedroom beyond thankfully deserted. I was going to make it, and with a sigh of relief, I glanced back at the apocalyptic ruin the bowel devils had left in their wake.

"It is finished..." I whispered, then descending the stairs ninja style and making my way to the basement where everyone else was still shooting pool. I diverted their questions by saying that I was trying to call a few people to come over, but no one was home.

With a subsequent and dramatic yawn, I prodded Kyle and Katie to follow me to Burgermeister. Our hippie hosts, (Scott and Jessica, by the way), stayed behind to quote, "do married stuff", but I have a funny feeling the only thing they ended up doing was cry. I can only imagine the horror of going up those stairs and seeing the aftermath.

The sight of it will haunt me forever.

Okay, so Burgermeister is a small bar known not only for its kick ass hamburgers, but also for its really cheap drinks. $2.75 for a double bourbon and diet coke is INSANE!!! But somehow, they stay in business. Me, Kyle, and Katie get a table just about the time midnight is rolling around, and suddenly, I realize I don't have a date.

For those who've been in this situation before, you know how embarrassing it is. You get to stand there like a worthless dick while all the other couples start making out as the year counts down.

Since Katie is dating Kyle, I'm left with two options. Either I can find a girl and throw some SERIOUS game, (i.e. seduce her in less than two minutes), or I can conveniently "disappear" into the bathroom like a little sissy and wait for the countdown to finish.

I chose to be a sissy.

With a quick, "I gotta pee!", to Kyle and Katie, I take off for the bathroom, only to find a line of other pathetic, no-date-having guys waiting for their turn to hide. Cursing the gods, I'd just resigned myself to stand there and endure the humiliation alone, when I catch this girl making goo goo eyes at me from across the room. She was part of a girl "pack" of about five or six, each of them collectively safe from the nobody-to-kiss-on-New-Years stigma because they were together. Guys can't really pull this off, chiefly because guys can't kiss and hug and giggle with each other.

At any rate, I'd acquired a target, and with less than a minute to go, I swaggered my way over. Since this is my story, I could easily lie and say the girl was drop dead gorgeous. Buuuuut, the truth is usually more fun, and she was just a step above mediocre. Killer body, but her eyes looked too big for her face, and her nose was kind of pug-like.

Now, I'm TRULY hammered, but I didn't spend six years in college without learning how to appear sober, and that's exactly what I did.

Mike: Hey, I'm Mike, and I have no friends.

Pug Nose: (laughing) Jennifer, and I've got lots of friends.

Mike: You're alone now though, yeah?

Pug Nose: Yep.

The countdown starts, and I observe that this girl is equally hammered. She's swaying slightly, and the heavy-lidded, open-mouthed expression she's giving me is a dead give away.

Ya know, she probably would've hooked up with ANYbody, but since MY body was closest...

Three!!! Two!!! One!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

An exchanged glance, a sheepish shrug, and BAM! We're kissing, and not like strangers either. I was actually a little taken aback by this girl's desire to lick my stomach, but I wasn't complaining.

The moment passes, and after waving to Kyle and Katie to let them know that no one had flushed me down the toilet, I sat down amongst the girl pack.

Sometimes, you're just in your element, and I was "on" that night. I had that table rolling, and it soon became apparent that Jennifer wasn't the only one who wanted a trip to Mike Land to ride the log ride. One of the others, ("Amy", if drunken memory serves), was staring me down the whole time, and she... was... FINE!!! She had long black hair and eyes so blue they were almost translucent. You can always tell the difference between someone listening to what you're saying, and someone raping you with their imagination.

Amy was thinking naughty thoughts.

Now, before anybody gets excited, no, I didn't hook up with Amy. I DID get into a fight over her though, and that's the reason I'm posting this story. Apparently, Amy had gotten into an argument with her boyfriend earlier that night, and that's why she was out with "the girls", (Jennifer told me this). Amy's boyfriend was a quote/unquote "asshole" who cheated on her constantly; and, unbeknownst to me, he was about to show up.

After about another twenty minutes of me regaling the girl pack table with some of my better stories, I notice Amy looking over my shoulder in wide-eyed terror. Well, maybe it wasn't terror, but she was definitely uneasy. That's about the time that somebody bumps the back of my chair, and I see this long skinny arm reach over my shoulder and grab Amy by the wrist.

Mr. Asshole had arrived!!

"Get up!" he told Amy, trying to literally pull her across the table. To explain, the table we were sitting at was like a booth, and Asshole couldn't really get to Amy without having to climb over everybody. Asshole was also drunk, and probably not in the best state of mind to contemplate the mechanics of manhandling his girlfriend over six feet of wood- not that he got the chance to.

There's nothing more offensive to me than female abuse, and since Asshole had already extended his arm right over my shoulder, putting him into a jointlock was the least I could do. This guy was taller than me, probably six foot even, but he was kind of lanky, so I had no trouble locking his elbow out with a standing armbar and torqueing him face first into the tabletop. This knocked over a few glasses and beer bottles, but I don't think the ever-watchful staff of Burgermieser was alerted.

So I'm holding this guy down, and he's cursing me, and I'm telling him to "Stop fucking cussing in front of the fucking ladies!" (my own little joke) That's when this guy's buddy knocks the ever loving shit outta me. I never saw it coming, and he punched me right in the freaking ear!

I go down, accidentally taking Asshole with me to the ground. Asshole's buddy, Mr. Suckerpuncher, is a BIG guy.... but not as big as KYLE!!!

A little background info is probably needed here, because Kyle is not only my roommate, but also my training partner. We have the same instructor, and we're constantly beating the crap out of each other. Kyle's about six foot, two forty, and he can whip some ass, so Asshole's chickenshit suckerpunching buddy is in serious, serious trouble.

With my head still spinning from the ear punch that had dropped me a second before, I find myself on my back in the guard with Asshole trying to hit me with his skeleton arms. This isn't really a problem because I outweighed the guy by a good thirty pounds, and it took me all of two seconds to Japanese Elevator his punk ass. Instead of rolling on top to get the mount, I push Asshole to the side and scramble to my feet just in time to see Kyle unleash the fury on Mr. Suckerpuncher.

It was beautiful! The two of them had apparently squared off after a brief standing skirmish, and Kyle was now bouncing around like a boxer. He leads in with a front leg lift kick to the groin of Mr. Suckerpuncher, which Mr. Suckerpuncher blocks only to leave his face wide open for a one/two, jab/cross combo.

And that's all she wrote, folks!

Mr. Suckerpuncher stumbles back, falls over a table, and lands semi-dazed on the floor. I kinda wanted to hit Mr. Suckerpuncher myself, but Kyle really knocked the bejesus outta him, and that was enough, (that didn't stop me from knocking a bowl of pretzels over on this guy as I left though).

So everyone's going apeshit, the management of Burgermeister included, and it's time for me and Kyle to get the hell outta there. Katie is pulling us out the door by now, and guess where Asshole is.... That's right, BACK WITH AMY!!! The two of them are huddled up in the corner like I was the bad guy or something.

Man, I will never understand women.

Jennifer, (aka Pug Nose), was still game though, and she acted like she wanted to follow me out the door. Unfortunately, her friends, the girl pack, no longer thought I was funny OR nice, and they were holding her back.

The scene was kind of cheesy, cause there was a second there when Jennifer and I were reaching out for each other through the milling, bustling crowd.

Mike: Call me!

Jennifer: Okay... Wait! I don't have your number.

Mike: I know! Ha ha ha ha!!!

Kyle and Katie got a kick outta that.

Anyway, so we get in the car and drive back home to see a note on the front door from Scott and Jessica, (our hippie hosts from earlier that night). It didn't actually say it was from Scott and Jessica, but the block letter text read:

WE KNOW IT WAS YOU, MIKE.

I pissed myself laughing right there on the front porch, Kyle and Katie bewildered because I hadn't yet told them about the Festival of Feces. I did so afterwards as we gorged ourselves on left over corn chips and cheese whiz, and Katie almost choked she was laughing so hard.

Other than that though, the night sucked. My ear still hurts, and I really didn't get revenge on anyone. My neighbors won't talk to ANY OF US any more, and I had to give away the Tommy Hilfiger fleece I was wearing because it got torn some time during the scuffle, (plus, it had vomit on it).

It was a crappy New Year's Eve, pardon the pun, though it was cool to see Kyle in action. I kind of skimmed over it, but notice how Kyle entered with a low kick to pull his opponent's guard down? That's called a "gateway" technique. It opens the "door" for subsequent, more destructive techniques, (like a one/two right in the face). Simple, yet devastating.

As for me, well, I didn't do all that much except get blindsided. But, notice that I didn't stay on the ground after I reversed the guy on top of me? Given the strength/skill difference between me and Asshole, I probably could've choked him out or broken something in ten seconds or less, but the floor of a crowded bar isn't the place to grapple, so I disengaged.

I'll tell ya this though, if I see Asshole again I'm gonna, (as "Jay" put it so eloquently), rip his fucking head off and take out his fucking soul!!!

Happy Holidays!