All Your Base

Previous installments: Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24. Also check out the official Livin' Large FAQ, Cast List, Flow Chart 1.0, and Flow Chart 2.0.

So that was it. I was done being Mat's roommate-shaped doormat. As far as I was concerned, the situation was over. I just had to figure out how to make that happen. Unfortunately, I didn't have one of those Dr. Evil-style buttons that would drop Mat into a fire pit or a room full of poisonous Mogwai. So, since a bloody and painful homicide was (unfortunately) out of the question, my next best option was an appeal to authority. So I went to Brett, our R.A., to plead my case.

"I can't keep living with that guy," I said. "I can't. I won't."

"Yeah, I figured you might feel that way," Brett said. "And I might have some good news for you."

"Really?" I had no idea what he was going to say, but the mere thought that he might get me out of living with Mat caused me to experience a seeing-naked-boobs-for-the-first-time level of excitement. Okay, maybe that's overstating things. Maybe more like a beating-Mega-Man-for-the-first-time level of excitement. "What is it?"

"Well, at the end of every semester, there's a certain number of students who leave the dorms because they graduate, fail out, or just quit for whatever reason. Anyway, that means there are a lot of room vacancies, particularly at the beginning of the second semester."

"No kidding?" I said.

"No kidding. There are three openings here in NE3 alone," he said. "And I think, like, maybe 15 or 20 in the whole dorm. I don't know how many openings they have at the other dorms..."

"I don't care about that," I said. "I'd really rather stay in this dorm. And in the same hallway, if that’s possible. Who's gone?"

Brett picked a piece of paper up off his desk. "Let's see here. Jake graduated, but it looks like his roommate already found somebody else to move in. Dave is moving to the Quad..."

"Wait, what? Dave's moving? Why?" This was news to me. Not that Dave and I really talked much outside of the roleplaying group, but still.

"Not sure, but I don’t think he wants to live with Garrison anymore," Brett said.

And now I shall briefly turn this narrative over to BadDave:

My first semester was a completely different (and mostly less dramatic) time than Bawful's. For starters, while he was looking forward to college, I was looking forward to leaving the miserable vomitous mass that was my hometown. Literally, the only thing that made me even slightly bummed was leaving my cat behind, and that certainly didn't keep me up during classes. So I showed up on campus with long hair and no expectations. I guess I was supposed to go to class, but all I knew is that I was free. I was even so desperate to be at college that I signed up for marching band. Band members could be there a week early. I quit marching band my sophomore year of high school because it just wasn't for me. But if it got me to college quicker, then what the hell.

Of course, it's never that easy. After being there for 4 or 5 days (during which time I had met Nathan -- what an odd bird) and some other folks, other dudes on the floor started arriving. They were cool enough. But when they asked me who my roommate was, I would tell them. The response was always the same. "The Garrison? Maaaaaann." It was one of those awkward things -- I knew it was bad, but I didn't know what kind of bad. Would he make evil plans and then make me solve riddles to stop him? Was he a chronic masturbator? (Trick question: all college males are chronic masturbators.)

Nobody would answer when I asked, I just got an odd smirk and awful silence. Somewhere in those days, I also got the nickname of "Duuuuuude." Partly because I said it, and partly for the long hair. Because in the midwest, long hair equals hippy surfer dude. Whatever; at least I wasn't "Biscuit" or something. So my roommate showed up one Saturday while I was gone. Now, you youngun's need to remember: we got notified of our roommates, but my only options were to call or write to him. No e-mail. No Facebook stalking. I think I called once and left a message, but we never spoke before seeing each other. So I entered the room, and the horror.

He was a country boy. He had a country two-by-four and plaid chair that had molded to him over years of sloth. He had tight jeans. He was a big guy -- probably 6'1" or so, but he carried himself like he was 5'5". He wasn't in shape, but neither was I. He had thick horn-rimmed glasses, and greased, short black hair laid flat towards his face in the style that George Clooney would later make look good and popular. No, the horror stemmed from two things. First: country music was playing. Second: he was just sitting there. Without a shirt. With lots of hair. On his back. Greasy, stringy, black strands that clung wetly to his pallid, lumpy skin. He was sweating. Into the chair. Into the room.

Seriously, within hours the room smelled like The Garrison. He never spoke -- he was incredibly nervous. He was always in the room. Unless he was eating or in class. He was this ball of anxiety that was always waiting for me in the room. Now, mind you, I was not a good roommate either. I left my laundry in a huge pile by my desk. I was a slob. After a few half-hearted efforts to know him, I gave up. I was no Bawful. There was no sympathy. No pity. I just made sure I was never in the room except to sleep, and occasionally change into new sweats.

One thing about band I loathed was Saturday mornings of game days -- we had to be up and dressed in our spiffy digs by 8 a.m. So I would stir from my hangover at 7:30, and The Garrison would already be up watching WWF on mute. What. The. Eff. I spent my nights with friends, playing nerd games, drinking, video gaming (SNES was new, and I dominated in Street Fighter 2), and god knows what else. Sometime in October I got a girlfriend (whom I actually am still with; what went wrong there?). I actually was less wild than I was in high school, but I still never was in the room or in class. Except for about two weeks after that girl and I got together, The Garrison walked in on us. I thought he was gone for the day. He walked in the room and without missing a beat, spun on one heel, shrunk to half his size, and walked out. So -- okay. I was a jerk roommate, and frankly, I kind of wanted a room I could spend some time in. So I put in a transfer to another hall at semester break, and got it.
"Well, I really don't want to live with Garrison," I said.

"Yeah, I figured," Brett replied. "And that brings us to the third option, which is going to be good news and bad news for you."

"Okay...?"

"Ron failed out," Brett said.

"Wait, Ron, as in Nathan's roommate?" I said.

"Yep."

"That's great!" I said.

Brett raised an eyebrow.

"Well, not great, maybe," I said. "I mean, I feel bad for Ron and everything. That totally sucks. But me and Nathan are pretty tight."

"I know," Brett said. "When I heard Ron was leaving, I had a feeling you might end up living with Nathan."

"So I guess I'd better go talk to him," I said.

"I guess so," Brett replied. "Good luck."

I sprinted down the hall to Nathan's room to fast I’m pretty sure I went back in time a few seconds.

"So, Nathan, I understand Ron failed out."

Nathan nodded. "Yes, he did."

"Bummer," I said. "And that means you’re out a roommate."

Nathan nodded again. "Yes, it does."

"Which means you need a new one," I said.

"Not necessarily," he replied. "I also have the option of paying extra to have a single room for the semester."

"Well, I can save you that money," I said. "Because it so happens I'm looking to move out of my room."

Nathan sighed. "I had a feeling this was coming."

I ignored his not-so-positive tone. "Think about it. We're friends, we get along pretty well. I'm not seeing the downside here."

"The downside is I'd really like to have a single,” he said.

"And I'd really like to live with a roommate who doesn't threaten to turn me into a bloody smear when I criticize him."

"I understand where you're coming from..." Nathan began.

"No. No, I don't think you do," I said. "Look, I'm in an incredibly shitty situation. You’re my friend. You can help me. So...?"

"So...I really want a single," he said.

I wanted to kick him in the ass so hard he’d be tasting my shoes for weeks.

"Is there anybody else you can move in with?"

"Like who?" I said. "If I move in with some random dude, I could end up with another Mat-like situation. Well, maybe not as bad. But I’d still be playing roommate roulette. Whereas moving in with you would be perfect."

"For you," he corrected.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I spit out. "You know what? Forget it. Just forget it." I stormed out.

Five minutes later, as I was pacing around the room trying to figure out my next move, there was a knock on the door. It was Nathan.

"I realize I'm being selfish," he said. "I just need some time to think about it. Give me until the end of the week, okay? Friday."

"Fine," I said, even though I didn't really feel like it was fine. "I'm not going anywhere. Obviously."

But that wasn't necessarily the case. Brett had said there were several openings in our dorm.

"Nathan wants until Friday to make up his mind," I told Brett. "Do you think those other openings you told me about will still be available if he says no?"

"We're not going to fill all the vacancies, if that's what you're asking," he said. "I'll talk to the other R.A.s and see if I can find a good place for you to move to. Do you have any specific roommate preferences?"

"Yes," I said. "Anybody other than Mat."

"Well, there's always Garrison..."

"Brett," I groaned. "You know what I mean. The less like Mat any potential roommates are, the better. How's that?"

"Got it," he said.

Now I just had to endure the four-day wait. There's not much to say about that clump of days other than it was pretty much like every other week I'd lived with Mat. Except for the fact that, these days, we pretty much hated each other. Of course, the silent hostility only served to strengthen my resolve.

On Friday morning, Nathan met for a late breakfast.

"Well," he said, looking somewhat defeated. "I've made my decision. You can move in."

I literally could have jumped with joy. "Seriously? No joke?"

"Yes, seriously," he said.

"Thanks, Nathan. I mean, really, thanks. I can’t thank you enough."

He waved off the praise. "It's okay, don’t worry about it. I already talked to Chad about it. He said we just have to fill out some paperwork first. Do you have any openings today?”

"Not really," I said. "After I leave here, I have class pretty much until 3 p.m."

"That's fine," he said. "As long as we do it before five o'clock. Then we'll move your stuff over."

"Wow," I said, shock starting to set in. "Wow. I can't believe it. It's over. I'm done living with Mat."

Nathan finally smiled.

"Seriously, man, thank you."

"And seriously," he said, "it's fine. Enjoy your day knowing that I won’t be having sex with anyone while you try to sleep tonight."

"You don't leave any lights on all night, do you?"

"No," he said.

"Nathan, I think I love you."

"Go," he said. "Now."

"Right."

I was stoked all day. Honestly, I hadn't felt that happy since the day Aimee and I had become a couple. I could hardly believe it. And I could hardly wait to tell Mat goodbye.

After I got done with classes, I headed back to the dorm. I decided to drop my backpack off at the room before meeting Nathan at the manager's office. When I got to the room, well, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw: Mat was loading his things onto a cart.

"What...what's going on?" I asked. They were the first words I'd spoken to him since mid-December.

Mat smiled so wide he looked like one of those Mr. Mouth games. "I'm movin'!"

"Moving?" I said, still confused. "Where to?"

"The Overpass," he said triumphantly. The Overpass was a "secret" hallway in our dorm that had bigger-than-normal rooms. Like, twice as big as the standard units, maybe even bigger.

"How'd that happen?"

"A couple of de football players left," he said. "So de room was empty, and I was next on de waiting list."

"So who's moving in with you?"

He shrugged. "Some guy down the hall."

And thus was Mat rewarded for stealing another student's long distance calling code, not going to class, almost failing out, and being temporarily declared ineligible for cheating on his SAT. Fortune favors the brave...and the stupid.

Once the cart was full, he pushed it outside and headed for the freight elevator. "I'll be back for de rest of my things in a little while," he said.

I didn't waste any time. I took everything of his that was still in the room and piled it haphazardly next to the door. Then I started transferring some of my things over to what had been his side of the room. Then I rearranged the furniture. When Mat returned a half hour later, the entire room had been transformed.

I was laying on the bed with my hands behind my head. "As you can see, I'm really going to miss you," I said. "Oh, and I put all your things there by the door."

"Fuck you," he said.

"I'll pass, thanks," I replied.

Mat put the rest of his things on the cart and left without another word. And then, at long last, I was alone.

But the story doesn't quite end there.

About two weeks after Mat moved out, the phone rang. It was Shelly.

"Hey," she said, and it sounded as if she'd been crying. "Have you talked to Mat lately?"

"No," I said. "Why?"

"Well, right before he moved out, he called and said he'd call me again later with his new phone number," she said. "Only, he never did. I haven't talked to him since. Isn't that weird?"

"Kinda," I said.

"What do you mean 'kinda'?" she asked.

"Oh, well, I mean, that's how Mat gets rid of girls," I said. "He just stops talking to them."

"Wait, what do you mean that's how he gets rid of girls? Like, he's been seeing girls this whole time? Like the whole time I've been dating him?"

I felt bad bursting her bubble this way, but she probably deserved the truth at this point. "Yes, he has. Seeing, fucking, using and abusing, then discarding. It's what he does, who he is."

"Mother fucker!" she said.

"Sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me this was going on?" she asked.

"Honestly? It wasn't any of my business, or my responsibility," I said. "And seriously, would you have believed me?"

"Probably. Maybe. I don't know," she said. "I can't believe it."

"Believe it," I said.

"Can you get me his new phone number?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," I said. "He left it so I could forward on his calls."

"Oh!" she said. "Maybe he meant for me to get his number from you!"

"Shelly," I said, "trust me, that's not what he intended."

"We'll see..." she said.

A week later, there was a knock on my door. It was a Friday night, and I had just been getting ready to leave. I opened the door...and it was Shelly."

"Hey," she said.

"Hey back," I said. "What, uh, what are you doing here."

"That bastard wouldn't answer his phone when I called, and I called a lot," she said. "He didn't return any of my calls, either."

"So...you flew out here to see him?"

"Yes," she said.

"Ooooookay."

"Can you take me to his room? Do you know where it is?"

"Yeah," I said. "But you know he might not even be there, right?"

"Just take me," she said.

We walked down to the overpass in complete silence. Shelly stalked along next to me like Jason Voorhees. That chick looked ready to kill.

When we got to the room, I heard the telltale sounds of "No Ordinary Love." He was home...and probably getting ready for a booty call. I told Shelly to wait right around the corner. "Let's surprise him," I said.

It took a few tries, but Mat finally heard me knocking. He answered the door. "Hey man," he said, and he actually sounded pretty friendly. I guess not living with me had at least partially nullified his hatred for me.

"Check out this room," he said, stepping aside so I could see his new digs. "Nice, huh?" And it really was nice. Nicer than he deserved, in fact, which made me feel a little better about what was about to happen.

"So, what's going on?" I asked.

"I'm getting ready for a date," he said. "Dis girl's a model."

"Wait, our school doesn't have a modeling program," I said.

"No, she's a nude model for de art classes," he said.

"Ah, I see. Classy."

"So what'd you stop by for?" he asked.

"Well, I have a surprise for you."

"You do?" He looked genuinely astounded.

"Yeah," I said. "I brought you a visitor."

Then Shelly walked around the corner.

"Hey baby," she said, and there was a dangerous edge to her voice.

"Oh," he said, looking utterly floored. "Uh, hey girl, what up?"

"I just wanted to see my man," she said, and she hugged him. He stared over her head at me with a "WHAT THE FUCK!" look on his face.

"So anyway," I said, turning away, "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone." And that was the last time I ever spoke to Mat.

A few days later, I was studying when the phone rang. It was Shelly.

"I want to get that bastard," she said.

"Hello to you, too."

"I'm going to make him sorry he ever fucked with me," she continued.

"Well, good luck with that," I said. "Give him hell."

"Oh, I plan to," she said. "And I need your help."

"What?"

"I already called somebody at Hard Copy. I'm gonna expose all the stuff your school's athletic program has been pulling to help Mat out, the money from alumni, the grade shit. But they need at least two sources, so you have to back up my story."

"Whoa, hold on there," I said. "I'm not going to go on freakin' Hard Copy and accuse my school of serious misconduct. That's crazy."

"You'll do it. You owe me for letting him screw me over all those months."

"I don't owe you anything. If you want to get back at Mat, do it without me. See ya!"

I hung up. Seconds later, the phone started ringing again. I picked up the receiver and then slammed it back down. The phone started ringing again. Then again. Then again. I finally just pulled the phone jack out of the wall.

"What a crazy bitch," I whispered to myself.

And that was the last time I ever spoke to Shelly.

Next: The epilogue! Part 1!

Labels: ,

57 Comments:
Blogger Shiv said...
"You owe me for letting him screw me over all these months."

I lol'd. Good episode. Best in a while.

Anonymous Andrew said...
I saw the first twist coming--that Mat would want to leave--and felt smug and literarily-understanding.

The others caught me by surprise. I'm going to miss this series. Fortunately, I'll wait to miss it to the epilogue.

Captcha word: dersfan. Someone who inexplicably likes the Oakland Raiders and the New York Islanders and probably rooted for the USFL Oakland Invaders, too.

Blogger AnacondaHL said...
Nars (continued from last thread): The book is tl;dr, I just watched the Wesley Snipes movie IMHO.

And according to the wiki, it was quoted often in Gigli. :psyduck:

Anyways, I don't see the problem with Amare quoting the main summary of the book, concerning deception in war.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
Gotta have a where are they now final. Can't wait.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
Hard Copy. Yes.

A thousand times yes.

Anonymous The Glide said...
Lol, if you really gave Mat the proverbial finger like that when he moved out my hat goes off to you, Mr. Bawful.

Anonymous Pricetag said...
I know this blog is primarily about living with Mat, but I'm really hoping that the epilogue ties up other plot threads like Aimee and the other ladies that you spoke about along the way.

Blogger AnacondaHL said...
This part was the best Labor Day weekend gift. Yay Bawful

OpenID NarSARSsist said...
AnacondaHL - Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Amare or him saying that he is going to apply deception. I just thought the quote "The methods I use from the ancient general, Sun Tzu, is the leadership method. I feel like using that will help my leadership and help us to get over the hump. I'm going to apply those tactics and those rules to how we're going to approach battle and win." was really vague. He seems to be taking to the nickname so I was expecting him to bust out with some really relevant quote rather than "I'm using the leadership method." There is no hating going on here.

As for Gigli, can you really be surprised they applied a lot of the Art of War? I heard the movie really sucked, so to get an audience, they really would need some deception there. In a related line, The Thirty Six Stratagems seems particularly relevant for the movie.

7. Create something from nothing: Hah ha! You thought there was going to be a good movie here.

10. Hide a knife behind a smile: I hear the getting knifed part was the reaction of their studio's wallet.

28. Remove the ladder when the enemy has ascended to the roof: Once you go into the theatre, there is no escaping the horror.

36. If everything else fails, retreat: Oh wait, there is an escape, the exit doors.

Anonymous AK Dave said...
Great series, good times reading. Thanks for posting all of this.

Blogger Basketbawful said...
Shiv -- Glad you laughed. And thanks for the kudos. I was this close to not finishing this morning and making y'all wait until Monday.

Andrew -- I wish I'd see the "Mat wanting to leave" twist coming when it happened. It would have saved me (and Nathan) a week of stress.

Anonymous #1 -- That's sort of what the epilogue will be for.

Anonymous #2 -- Yup...Hard Copy. Ah, good times.

The Glide -- That's exactly what I did. I figured I had nothing to lose at that point.

Pricetag -- Yes, I will try to tie up all the loose ends.

AnacondaHL -- Like I said up above, I almost didn't finish...but I couldn't leave you peeps hanging all weekend and Monday.

Blogger Basketbawful said...
AK Dave -- Thanks...and where the hell have you been, man?

Blogger Scott said...
Awesome series!

If I could offer any critique, it would be that the whole 'am I Mat's Mat?' aspect of it kind of fell off the table immediately after it was introduced. I thought that was going to be the point where this became something I'd buy in book form, but it fell back into a self-centered viewpoint so quickly that I'm not sure it's there yet.

Mat moving out obviously shows that was still there, but not expressed. I'd like to know more about the Mat side of things.

Anonymous C BEAR said...
Incredible story, just incredible! I first started reading this back in July and became addicted to the series. I just wish it would never end... Thank You Bawful.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
So, here's a question...

The entire story and throughout the first semester, you played the moral high ground argument "It's not my business," "It's Mat's decision to act the way he does," etc, but in the defining moment (i.e. Shelly calling with Mat vacated from the hostile situation) you finally decide to act. Does this seem a little hypocritical?

Maybe hypocritical is the wrong word. But doesn't this action demean your earlier decisions to stand idly by? Why didn't Jennifer get the same treatment? Or any of the other countless girls who left messages?

As a story or in a movie, I don't think the character developed enough to make this leap realistic. When was your "Dazed and Confused" moment where you plopped down on the bed and realized you could get away with getting back at Mat?!?

Some other thoughts...
1.) Have you ever heard of being sex-iled? I always felt it was standard protocol to leave a sock or rubber band on the door so that your roommate made himself scarce for awhile... Did this develop in the 2000s?

2.) When did drinking actively enter your social scene? After you turned 21? I always wondered what kids did at college when they didn't drink and now I know. It is interesting how differently the details are disclosed when booze is an afterthought. Most college stories these days (all in fact) seem to revolve around the same formula of "Man, I got so trashed then..." and this view was both unique and refreshing. Is there any more commentary on drinking excursions with "Sober Matt"? Did you ever try and be the DD for other people (namely: drunk girls)?

3.) I have to ask and your readership demands an answer - where are we on the metaphorical baseball field at this point with Aimee/Cindy/Any Girl Ever..? We know we've tapped 2nd base with some making out and, I believe, heavy petting (as you alluded to with the "you can be more aggressive" line awhile back). But has Ray-Ray knocked down the triple yet? Or perhaps the even more elusive four-point play?

Blogger DocZeus said...
Man, you had some stones bringing Shelly over to Mats place and snitching on him to her. I'm surprised you lived to tell the tale.

If you really wanted to screw over Matt but wanted to keep yourself out of the story, you would've hooked up Shelly with Taco Bell Jennifer.

Anonymous Special K said...
'Bawful, great ending, looking forward to The Epilogue (the last episode, part deux). Gotta say, the irrationality of women is not to be underestimated - surpsied she didn't just sneak attack you some Hard Copy cameras, 'Fox News' style.

Also - I like the way you got Mat back - one key, plausible deniability - if ever asked, you could easily plead ignorance. Very smart.

Blogger AnacondaHL said...
Actually, I have a few more questions.

I don't understand the pictures in Part 24 or Part 25.

And you always mentioned Susan being your second college love, but this story ended in the middle of Aimee. Will this be covered in the Epilogue, or is it part of 'Year Five'?

OpenID ad4m22 said...
Bawful,

I don't remember how I found your blog - I'm from England and I don't even like basketball.

Just wanted to say this story has been absolutely brilliant from beginning to end and I'll be really sad to see it go. At least tell me Shelly managed to get one over your school?

Will we be reading BadDave's version of the story with The Garrison anytime soon? It might fill the hole this story leaves.

Blogger BadDave said...
Anon - some answers from my point of view:

1) It was invented with roommates, I think. So...probably about the time of Magna Carta. The catch is that it takes a roommate to be thoughtful enough to use the secret sexile code.

2)Bawful drank rarely freshman year, occassionally sophomore year, somewhat junior year, and like a man 30 days in the desert every year thereafter. A good progression. I take credit for some of the increase. My favorite was bringing Bawful back smashed, plotzing him on the couch, and getting our RA (still Brett) so we could point and laugh at him. Then I went back to the party.

3) A gentleman never kisses and tells. And while I'm no gentleman, I'm not revealing Bawful's answer (that there is the broyalty in action). But your analogies made me crack up you funny bastard.

Anonymous kev said...
BEST.INSTALLMENT.EVER.

Seriously, you out did yourself on this one dude

Blogger Basketbawful said...
I will of course answer all these questions, probably over the holiday weekend. However, I need to address BadDave's comment: "My favorite was bringing Bawful back smashed, plotzing him on the couch, and getting our RA (still Brett) so we could point and laugh at him. Then I went back to the party."

Let me spice this story up a bit. Okay, so it was a The Biggest Party Weekend at our school. It was our junior year. I was supposed to go out to the bars with Susan later that night. The day started off with Dave and I getting semi-drunk and playing pickup ball at the Co-Rec.

Then, after a long nap, Dave was going to an apartment party. It started at 8 p.m., two hours before I was supposed to meet Susan at her place. No problem.

So we go and immediately get involved in a drinking game. Three Man, I believe. Now, I was pretty new to drinking, so I didn't know much about pacing (still don't). And the aptly named "suicide punch" tasted like alcohol-free lemonade. When it was my turn to drink, I downed about half the cup. In the first 20 minutes, I went through seven or eight of these plastic cups.

That was when BadDave said, "Dude, you need to slow down."

"Pfft! Are you kidding me? I'm on fucking fire here!"

"Dude, seriously. Slow down. You'll thank me later," BadDave said.

Of course, I didn't listen. About 10 minutes and I don't know how many cups later, I got The Look. BadDave turned to me and said, "Game's over, isn't it?"

I only nodded. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, vomit would come out.

BadDave dumped me in a chair and went off to...I don't know, rejoin the drinking game maybe...and I sat there trying to keep my insides on the inside. The party host walked by. I was so helpless all I could do was kind of kick her in the leg. She knew The Look and apparently knew it well enough to ask, "You're gonna get sick, aren't you?"

I nodded very quickly, and she even more quickly made a bucket appear out of her proverbial ass. I proceeded to throw up three times and pass out.

I woke up after midnight. I was still sitting in the chair with a full bucket of puke in my lap. I hadn't moved in almost four hours and nobody had moved me. To his credit, BadDave saw me stir and then half-carried me back to the dorm...where he got Brett so they could both laugh at me.

Shortly after BadDave and Brett left, I drunkenly called Susan who pretended not to be mad at me. Then I drunk-dialed Greg and Gauvin in Kokomo...my very first-ever drunk dials.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
It isn't drunk dialing unless you're calling a past, present, or future girlfriend/boyfriend and apologizing, confessing, or asking for sex, preferably all three in the same call. That's the way I remember it, but I'm an old fart.

Blogger Basketbawful said...
I think the definition of drunk dialing has been expanded to anyone you call while drunk.

Blogger MCBias said...
Nice plot turns! And I can't help but notice that you finally developed a backbone once you started dating Aimee.

Anonymous ak dave said...
I'm in Law School now...

So... yeah. Life as I knew it has ceased to exist.

I'm still reading; just not commenting much.

Blogger GonzoPal said...
I want to say that I loved Livin Large. Thank you for a good read.
But I also gotta say that i love that there is a whole new season coming up, with all its Worsties and all the little stories.

And for all the people who are just fan of one or the other: Test it out. The writing style is still the same. Entertaining and a blog - two things not so often found together. My 5 Cents.

Blogger lordhenry said...
Damn, I started to think this site was gonna change its name to "living Large."

Anyway, that was a pretty good ending, with you finally having the chutzpah to do SOMETHING to Matt, which he definitely deserved. I don't actually think Bawful is a hypocrite for waiting until he is gone to do that. I think it was to send a message: "you used to be under my circle of protection because you are my roommate, now that you are gone I have no reason to protect you."

Bravo. Also, "belated bravo" for the paul pierce writhing in agony pic a few days ago. That and the caption made me laugh my ass off. Somehow that pic made the lakers title run even more satisfying, though I can't say how, and I hope you don't kill yourself after reading that statement.

Normally, I come here to see you make fun of basketball players, but the ongoing narrative still provided quite a few laughs, just the same. Though it was more painful than watching L.A. get raped by forty in the finals to hear about your awkward interactions with the ladies. Your humility is what definitely made this story work.

Christ, after awhile, I was looking forward to this more than my weekly "bleach" manga! (Somewhere in the universe, anacondaHL winces in agony)

Anonymous Anonymous said...
byou americans just can´t drink!
A drunk beer-loving guy from germany

btw. american beer is disgusting

Anonymous bizarro said...
great story
this is becoming downright creepy. bitter feelings, hatred, vengeance and treason.
me loves it

Blogger Victor said...
Oh man that's what this story has been missing. The last few installments just didn't have enough crazy in them.

Blogger Steve Lee said...
Damn Bawful, I seriously would've paid money to see Mat's face when he saw Shelly.

Btw was the other source she was talking about Brett?

I'm going to miss your Livin Large stories, but hopefully there will be Living Larger coming up soon?

Blogger BadDave said...
AK Dave - Law school?! In Alaska? Besides the ownership rights of fish and the occasional snowmobile personal injury claim, what do lawyers have to do up there? (Uh, seriously - good for you. Kick ass.)

Anon - I mostly agree with you. Americans think the goal is to end up just shy of dead. I like to prefer the goal of ultimate funtivity (word courtesy of Magic Johnson) in my drinking escapades, not that I've made the mistake of throwing up my kneecaps upon occasion.

And most mainstream American beer *is* disgusting, but I have hope. Brews like Sam Adams, Yeungling, and the multitudes of microbreweries are slowly changing the fact and taste of american beer. Thank the lord Stockton for that.

Blogger AnacondaHL said...
I just had a Pacifico while taking a shower.

It was awesome.

Sure Dos Equis has the funny commercials now, but when it comes to Mexican beer you'll have to pry my Pacifico out of my cold dead hands. Mmm.

Sam Adams is p. good. Probably because it's more rare on the West Coast, so I never got sick of it.

Blogger The Dude Abides said...
Pacifico is by far my favorite Mexican beer. Nothing like sitting on a beach in Baja after a scuba dive, eating lobster thermidor and washing it down with a Pacifico.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
hey BB are you going to continue with your adventures post-mat? or is there just gonna be an epilogue?

Blogger Dan B. said...
I've been on the road since Thursday afternoon and just now had a chance to read this piece. One word: amazing. I knew it was just a matter of time until you just said "fuck it" and stopped being nice!

Blogger Papo said...
Lurker . . . first read the site in the middle of Livin' Large now I check out the site everyday when I can. Waiting for the Livin' Large reunion show.

Blogger Will said...
I second what ad4m22 said above: I'm from the UK and not into basketball, but this has been a total pleasure to read (started late and just caught up, in time for the epilogue). Thanks, Mr Bawful!

Anonymous Anonymous said...
Congrats Bawful - v.satisfying finale, as it seems the tribulations of living with a lifetime nemesis actually helped shape your character, into a more badass and less pussified human being. Unwittingly he assisted you to deal more ruthlessly with chicks, and in all likelihood, your benign hatred of his default profession of loafing, likely inspired you to maintain your studious attitude (as opposed to, say, rooming with BadDave your first year, and picking up the fine art of slacking off from the getgo)

Well told story
Pound4Pound

Blogger Buck Nasty said...
It's been some time since I've posted (school and laziness, blah blah blah) and this one brought me out.

I'm just wondering how Shelly couldn't find one other person to corroborate for Hard Copy. How sweet would it have been to have him finally taken down?

On another note: We totally heard BadDave mention that you ignored the 'slow down' advice with terrible repercussions, and I'm glad we got some details on those. Good stuff. Too bad it has to end.

Sidenote: Can you believe that Bowen retired? I thought it would be the cut and trade right back for one more season with the Spurs. Otherwise the only basketball news has been a lot of Americas FIBA qualifying, which I didn't have time to watch. Thank God our offseason is almost over.

Anonymous dunkside said...
i changed my mind.
7 kids or not, i wanna see shelly's pics. (you said you might be able to get some).

the tits might be ruined, but after feeding 7 kids those nipples can probably pierce through concrete. plus the crazy might still be in her eyes.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
If you guys like Pacifico, it's because you've never had Simpatico. (I like Pacifico, or, rather, did. And, since I can't find Simpatico anywhere anymore, I make due...)

Capcha: Latiric

Def: The term is a portmanteau of "Latin" and "satirical." See also: Mencia, Carlos; et al..

Anonymous Anonymous said...
she couldn't find anybody else for the Hard Copy because it would've brought down a lot more than just Mat's career, and when you have one of the era's best college ball players, you don't put your team's tourney hopes in jeopardy...is that really that hard to understand?

also, in bawful's nash piece, he wrote about nash's bad hair, and yet he's a Bird fan, who rocked a disgusting mullet with perhaps the creepiest mustache ever not seen on a woman...just sayin

Blogger Jacob said...
I've read every episode of this series. While I found it entertaining, I've grown to hate the 18 year old version of you. You were a nerd, and I found myself taking Mat's side. There is no question as to which one of you two I would have preferred living with. And it wouldn't be the uptight virgin.

OpenID NarSARSsist said...
Anonymous - Despite Nash's bad hair, Bawful still loves him very much as well. I'm beginning to suspect that perhaps the bad hair is influencing his likes and dislikes. We should see where "Achy Breaky Heart" ranks in Bawful's music pantheon.

Buck Nasty - Considering how utilitarian the Spurs are, isn't that the ultimate tribute they can give to a player, to use his partially guaranteed contract to land a bigger fish in hopes of a championship?

Blogger Bodhizefa said...
Jacob - What's wrong with being a nerd when you're 18? If you honestly find yourself taking the side of someone who didn't care about anyone other than himself, I think that says more about you than it does anything else.

Blogger ramon12 said...
weekend is over dude, where is the update, especially when it is the epilogue?

Blogger Basketbawful said...
ramon12 -- Sorry. The epilogue will be published tomorrow or Thursday. The tardiness is only 'cause I want it to be complete.

Anonymous Wormboy said...
re: sexiled: I graduated from college in 88. My Frosh roommate and I had this system: if somebody wrote "brush" on our door's notepad, the other made himself scarce. We each used it a few times for surprise hookups.

As for "Hard copy": Matt wouldn't dare do that, if he was wise. There are competitive DI sports programs where that can get you death threats and hounded out of school. I saw it in grad school, when a friend of a friend filed assault charges against an All-American linebacker on a championship contender. Ugliness ensued.

So, tempting as it may be, you don't risk your own existence for petty revenge.

Oh, and I do feel really sorry for Shelly. For self-preservation and the "band of brothers" factor, I can see why you didn't tip her off while Mat was your roommate. But afterwards? I would have done some serious groveling-style apology. She did deserve a hefty apology after all.

That said, you were more sensitive than most guys that age.

Blogger CassavaLeaf.com said...
I lived with a racist roommate from Fort Wayne, IN my first year at P. University...

We lived in Cary and I moved out a couple weeks into the first semester and rented an apartment in Willowbrook.

My parents were none to happy about paying for an apartment AND room and board.

Anonymous Mat's Heineken Sign said...
BadDave: Fuck this "gentlemen don't kiss and tell" nonsense. Part of the whole trial and tribulation bizness has been his lack of success with the ladies.

Leaving us without satisfactory resolution would be a bullshit SquareSoft move. If you were telling your friends this story, and then left out the good stuff, they'd kick you in the junk. And justifiably so.

Blogger BadDave said...
You're right. But telling my friends is much different than putting it on a public forum. Feel free to electronically kick me in the junk. I promise to electronically fall to the ground and throw up.

Anonymous Pok Flied Lice said...
It's 6am on Thursday... is the epilogue DONE?!

Anonymous Pok Flied Lice said...
So you (literally) gave the last word to not the protagonist, the antagonist, but the girl. A whiff of reminiscence of Hitchcock giving the ultimate scene to the girlfriend in Rear Window.
Yea, it's the very end of the work day and my mind is in another dimension.

Blogger Laura said...
I'm new to basketbawful and LOVED Livin Large.

I wonder if Big Mat might someday read this and give us his take on the University Life.

I'm sure you'd link anything he wrote...

Really appreciate your writing style and look forward to more of anything.

Anonymous Lurk Nowitzki said...
Truly epic, my fellow ballers.

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