We wanted our last college party to be a blowout, little did we know...

"Kevin, you up yet?" called my roommate Perry awakening me from a deep slumber.

Peering through the crust in my eyes, I look at the alarm clock. Oh s*** it's 5:30 a.m. and I hadn't cleaned up my four-bedroom apartment.

In just 4 hours, everyone would be arriving for the graduation cookout that Perry, our friend Lynette and myself had thrown to celebrate our graduating from college.

The morning was rushed. First, we "cleaned up" college style (we mostly just threw our junk into the closet) and quickly wiped down all the surfaces with soap and water. After an hour of doing this, the house appeared neat on the surface and we were satisfied. It was decent enough to have people over.

Next, we went to the liquor store and got our favorites (Andre Champagne and Bacardi). We then rushed home and began taking shots for old times sake, after all, in a week we'd be graduating and the world of work would render us no time to do these things.

Later that morning, people started coming in to help set up. That was cool, and soon other people started to come in and before we knew it there were at least 40 people here. As the cook out progresses, one of my friends, Julia, is totally hammered (A little history about Julia, she and I dated during college for a while and broke up. Now I was engaged to another woman, but we still remained friends).

First, Julia starts acting out. She runs out onto my lawn and begins stripping off her clothes and dancing. We grab her and stop her. So then she decided that she wants to go in the laundry room where she proceeds to start ripping stuff off the shelves. Once more we restrain her, but then she takes a turn for the worse. She asks to go outside where we escort her.

She begins to throw up wildly on my porch (mind you we have like 50 some guests who are looking on, some in horror others in humor). We take her in the house where she feels feint and we lay her on the bed (putting towels under her).

Just then I hear one of my neighbors Roger yelling obscenities at someone on his porch, which is directly across from mine. I look out and see that he is repeatedly hitting this guy in the face. The guy is bleeding and crying out. But Roger doesn't care. He continues pounding this poor guy.

Some of us immediately intervene and pull Roger off the boy. When I look again, I see that the boy is someone I took class with one semester. He is bleeding from his nose and it looks crooked. Now I'm no doctor, but his nose was obviously broken.

We calmed Roger down and found out that he was pounding this guy because the guy had groped his girlfriend while he was over at Roger's house. When Roger tried to throw him out, the guy refused to leave.

Meanwhile, me and some others took the injured guy to my cookout to call the ambulance. BUT WAIT! We couldn’t call them because there was underage drinking going on.

We decide to have a taxi take him to the hospital. The guy was coherent enough to give us his brother's phone number. So we phone his brother.

BIG MISTAKE!

His brother traces my number and comes up to my house with a bunch of his friends who look like hoodlums. They want to know who hit his brother. Roger joins the party a few minutes later not knowing what's going on.

"Where's the guy I beat the s*** out of?" asks Roger.

"Roger, shut up!" I snap in a very quiet voice so the hoodlums don't hear me.

Roger now being intoxicated repeats his question and you guessed it, the hoodlums all walked toward Roger.

"Hey yo ______ you the one that broke my brother's nose ain't you!"

"Not in my house!" I yell

"F*** your house, say something and we gonna f*** you up too," threatened one of the hoodlums.

"I bet you all better get out of here!" I yelled back boldly.

Just then, Roger runs to his house and barely gets there being chased, but manages to get in.

"That's ayight … we still comin' in!" as one of them breaks Roger's window with a brick.

We call 911 while some of our guests are looking on quite amused at what is taking place. (Fortunately the hoodlems couldn't get in Roger's window because it was too high up and too small. They couldn't even kick in his door because it was deadbolted). After a few minutes, the police arrive and the hoodlums hearing the sirens, run.

After that, we went back to the house and drank some more (I needed it after all that). The cookout was still fun and when all was said and done, I was totally hammered and restfully drifted off into my final drunken college slumber.