This is my favorite theorem.
I have another message for all you mothers out there:
Lastly, I would have to say I am an acceptable drunk. I mean, drunks usually are not as easy to deal with as normal, fully-conscious adults are, but I think the amount of joy I brought to others surpassed the negativity.
Joy I brought to others-
-dancing by myself
-falling off the trampoline/inability to get back up
-stupid comments I said
-remembering names of others
-setting gummy worms on fire/eating them
-I remember a couple occasions where people around me collapsed from laughter and I'm pretty sure I was responsible...I just don't know what I did.
Negativity I brought upon others-
-throwing banana peppers at random people who didn't know me
-demanding money from some girl I didn't know because she didn't know my name
-apparently I was repetitive in my conversation material to Brian
-knocking over cups in Beer pong?? (I have no memory of this)
Acceptable Behavior-
-peeing in the appropriate receptacle instead of in wastepaper baskets
-not whipping out my cock and running around with it
-not driving
-not starting fights
-not harassing/"hitting on" the pretty girls...or any girls for that matter. Flirting is a delicate and ancient art which should be designated for only sober, coherent, skillful people. Or the good-looking.
Honestly, I was doing alright for most of the night. I could walk, talk, go undefeated in ping pong, win at video games, foosball, say witty things and generally stay in control of my actions. That's when Mr. Boston (aka the 100 proof death liquid) entered my life. I recall several, or possibly all, people saying it was a bad idea to finish it. I think I was the ONLY one who thought it was a good idea to finish it. So I did. It was awful and terrible and there was a lot. Needless to say, after this my night became a haze until I eventually woke up with the thought, "I don't remember going to sleep!?"
Anyway, I don't mean to condone drinking, but seriously...what does anyone need TWO kidneys for? Really. One brain is sufficient...one stomach, one heart, one liver. I mean, what if we had two of everything? What if I had TWO penises? You see what I mean? It's unnecessary. Not necessarily worthless...but it's not required to live.
Getting hopelessly gone is about risk-taking. It's about being able to make a complete ass of yourself in front of your friends and total strangers as well. Many people are not prepared to take that risk, so they drink only moderately if at all. We all want to be a little cautious. Noone wants to wake up hearing stories of how you peed on the dog while giggling or how you punched a drunk girl in the face because she was making fun of your beard, but that's a risk I'm prepared to take. In the middle of the night I recall kicking--what turned out to be--Hillary in the chest out of confusion. I thought it was just a mass of blankets and I was cold and wanted a blanket, but when it groaned I realized there must be a person there so I did not get the blanket.
There's obviously an embarrassment factor and the risk of being a jerk or annoying, but throughout the night there was a group of people surrounding me (by choice) wherever I went, so I think that is testament alone that I wasn't too bad. And when the following morning, as people start waking up and I sit quietly eating my Dirty Rice Mix, most of the conversation revolves around things you allegedly did...coupled with laughter...I'd say that's a good thing.
I've yet to figure out why I never get a hangover or throw up, because I've definitely had plenty more than I should be able to handle. I think it's genetics. More and more, I'm getting the feeling that my parents were once totally crazy alcoholics in college, and as their tolerance went up, a super durable set of genetics for kidneys was developed which I later inherited (through the process of reproduction). I hope this is the case. The other possibility is that I am Superman. That would SUCK because once people found out, they would be slipping kryptonite in my drinks as a practical joke, and I would later die. KRYPTONITE DEATHS ARE THE WORST!!!
I have another message for all you mothers out there:
Lastly, I would have to say I am an acceptable drunk. I mean, drunks usually are not as easy to deal with as normal, fully-conscious adults are, but I think the amount of joy I brought to others surpassed the negativity.
Joy I brought to others-
-dancing by myself
-falling off the trampoline/inability to get back up
-stupid comments I said
-remembering names of others
-setting gummy worms on fire/eating them
-I remember a couple occasions where people around me collapsed from laughter and I'm pretty sure I was responsible...I just don't know what I did.
Negativity I brought upon others-
-throwing banana peppers at random people who didn't know me
-demanding money from some girl I didn't know because she didn't know my name
-apparently I was repetitive in my conversation material to Brian
-knocking over cups in Beer pong?? (I have no memory of this)
Acceptable Behavior-
-peeing in the appropriate receptacle instead of in wastepaper baskets
-not whipping out my cock and running around with it
-not driving
-not starting fights
-not harassing/"hitting on" the pretty girls...or any girls for that matter. Flirting is a delicate and ancient art which should be designated for only sober, coherent, skillful people. Or the good-looking.
Honestly, I was doing alright for most of the night. I could walk, talk, go undefeated in ping pong, win at video games, foosball, say witty things and generally stay in control of my actions. That's when Mr. Boston (aka the 100 proof death liquid) entered my life. I recall several, or possibly all, people saying it was a bad idea to finish it. I think I was the ONLY one who thought it was a good idea to finish it. So I did. It was awful and terrible and there was a lot. Needless to say, after this my night became a haze until I eventually woke up with the thought, "I don't remember going to sleep!?"
Anyway, I don't mean to condone drinking, but seriously...what does anyone need TWO kidneys for? Really. One brain is sufficient...one stomach, one heart, one liver. I mean, what if we had two of everything? What if I had TWO penises? You see what I mean? It's unnecessary. Not necessarily worthless...but it's not required to live.
Getting hopelessly gone is about risk-taking. It's about being able to make a complete ass of yourself in front of your friends and total strangers as well. Many people are not prepared to take that risk, so they drink only moderately if at all. We all want to be a little cautious. Noone wants to wake up hearing stories of how you peed on the dog while giggling or how you punched a drunk girl in the face because she was making fun of your beard, but that's a risk I'm prepared to take. In the middle of the night I recall kicking--what turned out to be--Hillary in the chest out of confusion. I thought it was just a mass of blankets and I was cold and wanted a blanket, but when it groaned I realized there must be a person there so I did not get the blanket.
There's obviously an embarrassment factor and the risk of being a jerk or annoying, but throughout the night there was a group of people surrounding me (by choice) wherever I went, so I think that is testament alone that I wasn't too bad. And when the following morning, as people start waking up and I sit quietly eating my Dirty Rice Mix, most of the conversation revolves around things you allegedly did...coupled with laughter...I'd say that's a good thing.
I've yet to figure out why I never get a hangover or throw up, because I've definitely had plenty more than I should be able to handle. I think it's genetics. More and more, I'm getting the feeling that my parents were once totally crazy alcoholics in college, and as their tolerance went up, a super durable set of genetics for kidneys was developed which I later inherited (through the process of reproduction). I hope this is the case. The other possibility is that I am Superman. That would SUCK because once people found out, they would be slipping kryptonite in my drinks as a practical joke, and I would later die. KRYPTONITE DEATHS ARE THE WORST!!!
posted by Casey at 1:30 PM
One of my friends invited this guy to her dorm party cuz he was a bit of a loner so she wanted him to be included. However, I guess the guy doesn't usually drink and despite people telling him that he was cut-off, he kept finding more alcohol. By the end of the nite he had shit his pants and was running down the dorm hallways and smearing his crap on the walls. Needless to say he was not invited back. Don't let this be you Casey.
Good cover-up. Yes, I'm sure it was "this guy" and not YOU. Totally sure. You can't tell, but right now I am rolling my eyes in sarcasm. I am also punching a cat from frustration. Thanks for the story. I'll be sure not to repeat your mistake. I have expert bowel control, as well as pooophobia, so no worries. And what the heck happened to the last 2 comments? They were good! You can't give them to me and take them back. That's Indian-giving, and last I checked, you're not an Indian so you can't do that. Anyway, when I get drunk it's not like I do something crazy and people can say, "remember when Casey got hammered and ....?" It's just the little stuff. Random stuff. But it's fun and there are no consequences in the morning. Maybe some bruises, but nothing else. More drunk stories to come upon request (and I've received several requests). Later!
I don't know why my comments aren't there anymore, because I didn't remove them. You're right, I'm not an Indian, that's my sister's husband. You jerk.