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4:58 p.m. - 2003-08-09



Now that I've had a few hours of sleep, I guess I can tell you guys about my past week in better detail than what I tried to give yesterday.

Basically ... it was an f'n blast from day one. I'm going to skip over all the classes and what we learned. Suffice to say, I learned the bare minimum of stuff as my brain was swimming in pools of alcohol through the week.


Got to the school at 2:30, full of dread.

Got my registration packet, did the obligatory handshaking of several dozen people who were going to be my instructors for the next week and found my dorm room.

It was a good sized room, but not for two people. Luckily, none of us guys had to share a room since there were only about 14 of us in one wing of the dorm. The other two wings were reserved for the women.

Went to an orientation meeting with some guy speaking from Six Flags or something. I dunno. I was exhausted and barely paying attention. P>

We were then put on busses and shuttled up the mountainside even more to a winery.

...Where we started our week of drunken debauchery.

I was good for the most part. Hooked up with a few ladies and got to know them a bit better. One was from Florida, the other from New York.

Went back to the dorm and was told that there were "parties" every night at the dorm and to hang around downstairs.

I hung around five minutes and saw no evidence of a party.

Nobody told me the parties took place in the courtyard out back.


So Sunday night, I went to my room about 9 and read until I fell asleep about 10.


Went to class and sat between two of the most gorgeous blondes God ever created.

One was a former college cheerleader. I have no idea if the other one was ever a college cheerleader or not. I didn't bother to ask.

Monday night we all go out to a place to eat. I'm the only male at a table of nine. I'm labeled the "stud of the table" amidst giggles. I turn beet red.

After dinner, the eight ladies want to walk around the town square and look at the shops. I agree to accompany them.

Three of them want to go into a bar by the name of Wylie's. If you ever get to Dahlonega, stop by Wylie's and tell Jeremiah the bartender that Uncle Bob says hi. He won't have any idea what you're talking about, but it'll be funny.

Anyway, the four of us go into Wylie's and run into a group of people from college. We sit with them and I find out that an older guy in our class is a former television newscaster from Charleston, S.C.

He talked very animated in a booming voice and became quite a boring dullard throughout the week.

He was also his own biggest fan and he hung on every word he uttered as if each sentence should win a Nobel Prize for its sheer brilliancy.

We left there about 8:30 and went back to check on the "parties" at the dorm.

No party in site.

Keep in mind...this was before anyone even showed me where the f'n courtyard was.

In bed at 9 and thinking that so far...this whole marketing college thing is boring.


Tuesday night I'm supposed to go to dinner with five ladies from class to a French bistro.

We get there and one of the ladies doesn't like anything on the menu. She wants to go to Wylie's to eat and I accompany her.

There, we hook up with four people from our class and have a delicious dinner.

Seriously people...Wylie's. It kicks ass in all directions.

I ask our waitress if there is karaoke in the bar that evening because it says there is on the sign out front and I had told several people in my class that afternoon to come to Wylie's for karaoke.

She didn't think so.

People were leaving the bar area downstairs at a rapid pace because they were being told there was no karaoke for the evening.

I went downstairs and sat down with three women from my class who I had yet to talk to.

One of them, Amy, became my karoake buddy for the week.

They were upset because they had been told that there would be no karaoke.

I had about four beers under my belt. I'm a lightweight. Four beers is plenty to get me rowdy.

I went over to Jeremiah the bartender. Jeremiah is a senior at the local college and is majoring in marketing, which, you know, smell the irony here...we're all there for a marketing college for the week and the bartender is a marketing major.

"Jeremiah," I say. "The sign out front says you're going to have karaoke tonight."

"It's wrong," he says. "The machine is broken."

"Here's the deal, Jerry," I slur. "I've got at least 50 people that are coming to this tiny little dark bar tonight and they're all ready to spend some serious money and sing their asses off. Do you think you could find someone in this town who can fix the machine?"

"Lemme make some phone calls," he says.

I was just kidding. I really was.

Ten minutes later, he comes back over to our table.

"I've got someone coming to fix the machine," he says.

"Wonderful, Jeremiah," I said. "You shall be rewarded by the end of the night."

I don't know about the ladies, but I was most impressed.

Now...I'm no Karaoke King by any means. I had previously only done it once with my parents in a tavern in Columbia, S.C. It was fun and all, but nothing special.

But in my head, I figured Karaoke would be just the thing to get everyone to loosen up and get to know each other better.

Tuesday night was a freakin' blowout.

By 11:00, the bar was standing room only, I was duetting with anyone in the room who had the guts to step up to the microphone, the smoke was thick, the floor was slick and the party raged.

On a normal Tuesday night in this sleepy little town, Wylie's brings in about $100 in revenue.

We spent $1,200 and gave it its best night in its history.

My boy Jeremiah made $273 which is more than he makes in a week of tips.

Before we left, he made sure to remind me that they'd have karaoke again on Thursday night if we wanted them to.

I told him to pencil us in. We'd be there.

...With an even bigger crowd than before.

Went back to the dorm, one of the women I was with knew where the courtyard was and I sang "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd with some hippie in a ponytail.

I then excused myself to go to bed.

At 2:30 a.m.

And after 12 beers according to my receipt.

But everyone agreed...Jeremiah was so busy that a few drinks never got rang up.



Wayyyyy hungover.

Wednesday afternoon we had no classes and were encouraged to "see the sites of Dahlonega".

I chose to see my pillows instead.

By 5 p.m. I was awake and feeling much better.

We all boarded some busses and went to a barbecue in the mountains.

Open bar there.


We all played a game called "Throw A Rock In The Bucket".

Doesn't sound like much and technically it wasn't much.

But get 200 drunken people waiting in line to throw rocks in a bucket in the middle of the mountains and it became a blast.

We then went back to the dorms where we tried to decide where to continue the party.

We made it a bar-hopping night, which wasn't hard to do since the town only has three bars all within feet of each other.

It was me, a few other guys and 10 women.

You have no idea what it's like to walk into a bar with ten strikingly beautiful women and sit down with them unless you're Mick Jagger in his prime. And if that's the case...dude...I loved you in "Cocksucker Blues".

None of us could really get our groove on at this point. Many people were already drunk and tired because of the night before and the fact that we had all been drinking for six hours straight already.

Got back to the dorm about midnight. Sat with the guitar hippies and several others as they tried to write a song about some of the professors at the college.

I was bored with that shit and went to bed about 12:30 after about about eight beers, six mixed drinks and three shooters.


Went to dinner with my new buddy and main karaoke partner Amy and her friends to a French restaurant. Had a delicious ribeye steak.

We then went to Wylie's to secure a table for the last night blowout session.

My Gawd.

Excuse me if I leave out several details of the evening. I drank about 15-18 beers that evening and sang everything from "Mack The Knife" to "Little Red Corvette" to "Summer Nights" from "Grease".

I sang "Unchained Melody" to an older woman who was screaming like I was Elvis. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with a napkin and gave it to her and she clutched it to her heart.

She told me later on that evening: "I'm going to dream about you tonight."


I sang "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" with an openly gay professor who was just the coolest guy.

Can't sing worth a shit.

But funny as hell.

I danced with many ladies and can't remember an exact number. One girl came up to me the next day and thanked me for dancing with her and I said "I danced with you?!?"

Anyway...that's my week.

I'm going to miss the hell out of everyone that I met.

But I cannot WAIT until next year.

And I'm not drinking another drop of alcohol until then.

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