I'm standing in my comfort zone near the keg. Two cups into it and it's already starting to hit me. I'm keeping my mouth shut and opening it only to fill it with Pabst Blue Ribbon and occasionally to yawn. About the only way to entertain myself at a place like this is to watch and listen, which is what I'm doing. I can't imagine anything I'd have to say to anyone here, unless I was suddenly magically blessed with the knowledge of the inner workings of automobiles which I'd almost prefer not to have. One of the bigger guys in one of the many muscle tees starts telling an embarassingly unfunny story about posing as a cop to steal kegs in Seattle and when he's done he's the only one laughing. He doesn't seem too upset about it, though, because he immediately begins another exaggerated tale about his other illegal activities which, I suppose, are meant to enhance his rebel image. Kendall senses that I'm a bit underwhelmed and decides to tell me about a story he read on the Internet about a guy who got his penis cut into three pieces by a doctor. I'm being patient enough with him tonight. When he goes to any social event, his personality changes drastically. He becomes outgoing, kindhearted guy who seems way too eager for attention. Most of the time my response to this is to make sarcastic responses to just about everything he says in order to shut him up, but it rarely works. Anyway, tonight I'm not doing this because he's leaving tomorrow for Germany for a thirteen months so I figure it's best to part ways in good terms.

Pretty soon someone's barbequeing sausages and it gets quiet with everyone stuffing blackened meat into their mouths. In typical Bozeman pseudo-redneck fashion, nobody uses a plate, so when Kendall has to get up to use the bathroom, he just leaves his half eaten sausage on the deck. Meanwhile the pitbull is trying to set an example for everyone else by eating out of a bowl. Soon I have to break the seal myself, so I head into the mobile home to the bathroom. After I'm done, I do my usual routine of looking through a stranger's bathroom for prescription drugs. Between bottles of herbal weighloss supplement is a clear orange bottle of hydrocodone. I'm so happy I'm about to tear up. I take four and shove them in my pocket. Back out on the deck are three new girls. Two of them are quite attractive and, I'm pleased to learn, Ukranian. Kendall is hitting on them drunkenly. He's making an ass of himself. I try my one and only way to hit on women: play the semi-shy weirdo. It's not working. They think I'm just another drunk asshole, which is pretty accurate. After a few more beers I'm brave enought to steal more pills. I go into the living room and the Ukranians are looking through an 'Atlas of the Human Body'. They get to the male genetalia portion and I start laughing. They laugh too and it makes me happy and excited for a brief moment. I'm alone with them inside, so I decide to try to impress them with my vastly superior taste in music. I look through Steph's music collection and feel a little disappointed when I don't see The Jesus and Mary Chain sandwiched between Good Charlott and Blink 182. I put on the only passable album I see, Weezer's blue album. The Ukranians aren't responsive and soon they're getting up to leave. I'm alone and drunk now, so I cheer myself up by taking the whole bottle of vicodin. In the morning I'll regret this decision, but right now I don't care.

I'm ready to leave and I'm sure Kendall is too after being rejected by every female present. We convince Matt, the fat twenty year old who bought the keg, to give us a ride home. Matt's been drinking since 3:00pm, but I'm too drunk to care about my own safety. There's no room in the truck, so we have to lay down and ride in the back of it, which, after living my whole life in Montana, I've done more times than I'd like to admit. We somehow arrive safely and, after eating a few Sandies cookies and talking briefly about girls, soon pass the fuck out.