Maverick, you killed Goose.

Well, let me start off by saying that IF my last post went up, youd be laughing your ass off...but it didnt because my computer fucked me. On to my next experience...

Myself and alcohol mix, very, very well, sometimes too well. Especially when I get together with my buddies in the military here at school. We beat on eachother. For example: my friend "Maverick" as we will refer to him in this story, decided that he needs to cut me in the bathroom line. When i tell him to fuck himself, he then proceeds to punch me in the chest. So i punch him in the face. Luckily, we werent too drunk not to know our own strength and the consequences were not too serious.

I was Mavericks wing man, so we will now refer to myself as "Iceman". I played a few games of cards with Mav and everything was looking good, I was drunk, he was drunk, all the girls around us were drunk. Life was good. I left my wingman for a little expedition into another room, which i might add, made me feel like less of a man. Total sausagefest. Regret going, but we bugged out promptly. Walking back into the area of operation, I noticed that Mav was in the corner with a girl, but due to the poor lighting, i could not see who, and more importantly how hot that girl was. I just assumed he was good to go. Upon closer examination, I noticed that there was a Bogey on his six. BOGEY ON HIS SIX. "(Mav) you dont wanna do that" I said over, and over. I dont think he heard me. Crash and burn. Everyone saw him. He is now gonna be "that guy" that made out with the fat girl and took her back to his room. This morning, i proceeded to verbally berate him about his crashing and burning. Luckily, he bailed out without exchanging of phone numbers and such. Unfortunatley, the damage was already done and Goose was dead.

Maverick, you killed Goose.