After a night of heavy drinking on Friday, a couple buddies and I woke up early to grab breakfast before the first game at 10 AM. Since the first game was at 10 AM, that meant drinking started at 10 AM. Unfortunately, the team was unable to get drunk fast enough and they are awful softball players when sober.
The rest of the day rotated between playing softball and heading to a bar where we purchased a keg so we could all get plenty intoxicated. They won their next two games before losing their fourth and final game when they ran up against a team that had avoided vagina at all costs in order to focus on their softball skills. They may have won the softball game, but they got blown out in the game of life.
Once the team was eliminated from the tournament, everyone went from get drunk mode to get blacked out drunk mode. The beer was flowing like the mighty Mississippi River and good times were had by all.
Around 1 AM, 15 hours into our drinkathon, a friend and I decided that it was time to cross the river so we could have an extra hour of drinking...and an extra hour of dancing, because I was at that very special point in my intoxication where West Coast Dance was not only possible, but inevitable. I called a female and sang to her, "I'm Hott Joe, you know me," and she immediately agreed to drive us across the river. As I've stated before, LL Hott J, Ladies Love Hott Joe.
My buddy and I got into a dance off, and this is definitely a moment of browning out. I know that I blew him away in the dance off, but I am not sure of any of the moves that I performed (a common occurrence in West Coast Dance). I then proceeded to blow everyone off the dance floor. My female escort was so impressed with my moves that she tried to stay off the dance floor, because she just wanted to lean back and enjoy the show. It was a special performance where I was hitting every single one of my moves to perfection.
Unfortunately, yet completely unsurprisingly, my sexual magnetism was too much, so a couple random broads were screaming at me to stop. My moves got them so hot that they wanted to fight me in order to avoid exploding in ecstasy right there on the dance floor. I informed them that trying to stop West Coast Dance is laughable, it's not even something you can contain. Once it's turned on, it's ON. When they realized that there was nothing they could do, I'm pretty sure they ran to the bathroom to clean themselves up. It's probably for the best, because I believe my escort for that evening would have fought them for trying to stop my amazing dance moves.
I wanted to share this story as a warning to those aspiring West Coast Dancers all over the world. It's an extremely powerful thing, and the ability to harness its power is something that must be developed over time. Once you get to the level that I and only a select few are on, no amount of alcohol will slow it down, because you reach a state where inebriation no longer hinders your movements, it only enhances your enjoyment.
So, remember kids, don't try this at home, try it at the club, and let the ladies cum to you.
P.S. Don't be fooled by impostors. This is not West Coast Dance. Neither is this.