Jul
23
2011

The Drunkest I’ve Ever Been: Law prom

—Brittany McLawStudent

Like so many of us, my drunken moments are depressing if not downright concerning. Considering the fact that I do NOT need an intervention in my life right now (I’m on a roll here!) I will tell you about one of the moments that I can look back on now, and muster a hearty, belly-rolicking chuckle.

Let’s set the scene: It’s prom night. No, not high-school prom—my 22 year-old boyfriend, who didn’t have enough sense to avoid knocking a 17-year-old up, did have enough (or was it shame?) to refuse to take me to that one.

Fast-forward to my next prom going opportunity. Hastings. Law. School. Prom.  Also known as “Barristers Ball.” Open Bar. Top-Shelf Liquor. Marble Floors (in hindsight, a terrible and dangerous idea—in fact, I’m surprised none of the assholes I go to school with have sued over it yet).  And bless those bartenders, they didn’t cut anyone off—the whole night!  Imagine the most stressed-out group of students finally letting loose with unlimited Patron, Makers’, and Grey Goose.
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Jun
03
2011

Drunk personality types: Part II

—Josey

Anyone who drinks has a drunk personality type. In Part I of this post, we described 6 of the most common drunk personality types. For Part II, we’ll look at 5 of the slightly-less-common types.

Your drunk personality may be a louder, more naked, and less funny version of sober-you. Or maybe you’ve got some intense Jekyll and Hyde shit going on. Either way: your drunk personality emerges when you’re maximally inebriated and it’s the heart and soul of your drunken self.

The Philosopher. (Thanks to our friend Alice for this one.) He’s a variation of The Oversharer (see Part I), but he’s not looking for any feedback—in furrowed brow form, in hugs, in speech, or otherwise. The guy sitting at the bar by himself seemed harmless enough. So when he smiled, made a totally normal comment about the sports team playing on the bar TV, and motioned for you to sit, you thought—why not? With an open mind, you belly up. And no sooner does language start flooding from your new friend’s mouth do you realize you’ve made a terrible, tragic mistake. First of all, he doesn’t want to talk about the sports game at all—the ball they’re playing with is apparently a well-made helium balloon, and the players merely engaged in an elaborate ballet. Also, they’re cyborgs. Wait, you didn’t take that literally—did you? The only truth is that there is none. It’s all a socially-constructed, collective lie we’ve agreed to reinforce for each other—like my fucking ex-wife! That bitch lied a lot. She said she’d never get fat. She told me she’d never suck my brother’s dick. There’s no “knowing.” But you’re probably too enamored of the mirage to really understand.
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Aug
17
2010

I’m sorry about last night

—Josey

The cold, clammy memory of last night’s apology-necessitating act is every Enthusiast’s nauseating-yet-necessary champion-breakfast appetizer (breakfast of course being Kentucky coffee and a fist full of aspirin). But there are as many types of dristakes as there are Enthusiasts to make them. What is the best way to handle your victims the morning after?

1. I’m sorry I puked. You’re going to have to replace or thoroughly clean whatever you emptied last night’s Nail plus last night’s Double Down on. If you regurgitate on your friend and they demand you bathe them to undo your damage, do your enthusiastic duty: roll up your sleeves, and start gently cleansing their bare flesh with a warm, sudsy, over-sized sponge. Whether what you’re doing is literally cleaning up yesterday’s chunky over-enthusiasm or merely fulfilling their previously-repressed fantasies about you, just go with it. And if your vomit victim’s eyes roll back as you sponge away and they start muttering “nurse … nurse” in between satisfied gasps, keep sponging—you’re on the path to forgiveness. Besides, as an Enthusiast you’ve experienced and enacted far stranger things. Alternatively you could offer a revenge-heave. Gets you out of soaping them down, and/or paying to dryclean their “swayed” jacked and/or having to bleach their car’s air conditioning vents. What do you care about a return regurgitation? You’re wasted!

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Jul
01
2010

My First Time

—Josey


For some of us, our first time tanked did come at what some bloggers refer to as “a disturbingly young age.” Maybe it was the disturbingness of that awkward stage that lead this Enthusiast to her first bottle, or maybe it was the feverish anticipation of fourteen years and freshman year and the thrill of the unknown. It was July and one of my best friends at the time had returned recently from France, arriving triumphantly at SFO, her suitcase brimming with legally-bought bottles. Five of us girls schemed a sleepover at the victor’s home, waiting for parents to doze off before breaking fifths of tequila and rum from under piles of tucked-away clothes in a bedroom closet.

Less experienced than my companions, I was especially eager to pull the small round limes from my backpack and salt my thumb’s webbing. “It burns,” they explained. “Drink it fast.” Salt taste, then sharp, wet scent as I raised her parents’ shotglass. Acrid effervescence met at mouth with sour. “Oh shit,” I thought to myself. “This is great.”

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May
04
2010

Drinks on the plane

Drinking and airplanes go together like discount gin and regrettable sex partners. But even the seemingly-happiest of marriages ends in divorce sometimes—just as once in a while, those adorable little bottles of booze will turn on you. Not on me, personally—quite the contrary. Airplanes and airports are definitely in my top ten list of favorite places to get wasted. I mean, as someone who’s spent the majority of her post-21/fake ID having years in major metropolitan areas only, the airport is the only location in my life where Chilli’s TOO is considered a totally awesome bar (I cannot vouch for rural/super suburban and/or Midwest living, so if the TOO is your fav local haunt, my bad, man—and no disrespect). By the way: Shout out to the Chilli’s TOOs at OAK and SEA and wherever else you’re plying away pre-plane jitters with your gateside full bar. Your extremely gigantic margaritas really enhance my flying experience.

But even though it’s never happened to me, I have seen the plane drunken-ness rear it’s hideous head.
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