Thanx to Daisy for this oh so true manifesto
This is ridiculously accurate...
Ode to Collegiate Alchoholism -------------------------------------
College students are truly a rare breed. Week after week we put ourselves
through the gauntlet of flip-cup tournaments, keg stands, ice luges, and
power hours only to pass out briefly and wake up at obscene hours of the
morning to re-fuel our still-intoxicated bodies with a few more beers all
in the name of tailgate. We also lack any legitimate sense of time. We
"pre-drink" until eleven. 12:40 classes are "early." We know 1:30 a.m. as
"last call" because we have been going to the bars since we were 17 with
fake I.D.s. There is a day of the week referred to as "Boozeday." We
college kids undoubtedly have a subculture unto ourselves. Some people
play basketball, we play beer pong. Some people wait all year for
Christmas or Thanksgiving, we wait all year for St. Patty's Day, New Years
Eve, and Superbowl Sunday. Some drink orange juice for breakfast, we throw
back a Busch Light because we hear its a good cure for that hangover. We
can turn anything into a drinking game. We live in our own world, a world
where jungle juice seems like a good idea, being awake at 4 a.m. is
normal, "wanna do a body shot" is a sufficient pick-up line, and 21st
birthdays are an entity unto themselves. We have become aware that
alchohol makes us say, do, and wear things that would, in a sober state,
be out of the question. Watching our friend make out with a stranger in
front of cheering spectators is raw comedy, kegerators become the greatest
invention the world has ever seen, and we "discover" things that seem
utterly amazing…like malt liquor...and Beerios... We nickname beers. If
we're at the bar and we ask for a "Beast" or a "Natty," the bartender
knows what we're talking about because he's probably in college too. We
have drunken alter-egos and we name them. A few shots down the hatch and
we suddenly turn into "Rico Suave" the tequila-chugging wonder...We are
experts at Kings, never running out of tricky categories or a clever rule.
We draw on the faces of passed out friends, we know that empty fifths make
great decorations in our apartments (also note: empty kegs can be sweet
coffee tables), and we have done a "shotski". We make friends while we are
drunk and we assign them an adjective that will forever precede their name
in order to distinguish them from the rest of the "friends" we make while
drunk (also because we do not know their last names.) "Sloppy Tom,"
"Chicago Sarah," and "Creepy Steve" will always be near and dear to our
hearts. We have no money because we spent it all on beer. This,
unfortunately, is also why we drink Povov and Crazy Horse, and trust us,
that takes heart. It grows on us after awhile...or after we've taken too
many shots to remember that what we're drinking tastes like gasoline. The
lack of money situation is also why if we see someone sipping a Corona,
they are a baller, and we will make friends with them. After a long night
of bonging beers at a house party, bravely resisting the urge to drunk
dial (and/or drunk IM) all of our ex-boyfriends, then going shot-for-shot
with a frat boy at the bar, we wake up hugging an empty box of wine in our
underwear on our best friend's kitchen floor with a million questions
running through our pounding heads. We wake up with random incoherent
numbers in our cell phones ("Who the hell is 'grEenshirtb4oy'?"), random
pictures on our cameras ("Look, here's one of so-and-so humping that
Corona guy on the dance floor..."), a mere 73 cents left in our wallets
("I didn't know Hold 'em was a drinking game?"), and a desperate desire to
lay in bed for the rest of our lives...it is then that we swear off
drinking forever...for real....we really mean it this time.... Yet, after
shotgunning a brewski or two and kickin back with a 40, we head to the
shower, beer in hand, and get ready to begin our evening once again. It
takes balls, simply put. We know how to party. We have honed and perfected
our art. We are lushes, bar stars, and boozehounds. Why do we act this way
you ask? Because we can. Because in 4 short, blurry years we will have to
enter the "real world". So for the time being we will live it up…As long
as there are beers to be drank and shots to be taken, we will be
there...as long as there are case races to be won and frat houses to pass
out in, we will be there...as long as there are tables to be danced on and
annoying eighties songs to sing loudly along to, WE WILL BE THERE!...but
we're not gonna lie, we probably won't remember it.
(Shelton's Addition: all the pronouns and female-oriented references were in this before and I'm too damn lazy to change them all)
Ode to Collegiate Alchoholism -------------------------------------
College students are truly a rare breed. Week after week we put ourselves
through the gauntlet of flip-cup tournaments, keg stands, ice luges, and
power hours only to pass out briefly and wake up at obscene hours of the
morning to re-fuel our still-intoxicated bodies with a few more beers all
in the name of tailgate. We also lack any legitimate sense of time. We
"pre-drink" until eleven. 12:40 classes are "early." We know 1:30 a.m. as
"last call" because we have been going to the bars since we were 17 with
fake I.D.s. There is a day of the week referred to as "Boozeday." We
college kids undoubtedly have a subculture unto ourselves. Some people
play basketball, we play beer pong. Some people wait all year for
Christmas or Thanksgiving, we wait all year for St. Patty's Day, New Years
Eve, and Superbowl Sunday. Some drink orange juice for breakfast, we throw
back a Busch Light because we hear its a good cure for that hangover. We
can turn anything into a drinking game. We live in our own world, a world
where jungle juice seems like a good idea, being awake at 4 a.m. is
normal, "wanna do a body shot" is a sufficient pick-up line, and 21st
birthdays are an entity unto themselves. We have become aware that
alchohol makes us say, do, and wear things that would, in a sober state,
be out of the question. Watching our friend make out with a stranger in
front of cheering spectators is raw comedy, kegerators become the greatest
invention the world has ever seen, and we "discover" things that seem
utterly amazing…like malt liquor...and Beerios... We nickname beers. If
we're at the bar and we ask for a "Beast" or a "Natty," the bartender
knows what we're talking about because he's probably in college too. We
have drunken alter-egos and we name them. A few shots down the hatch and
we suddenly turn into "Rico Suave" the tequila-chugging wonder...We are
experts at Kings, never running out of tricky categories or a clever rule.
We draw on the faces of passed out friends, we know that empty fifths make
great decorations in our apartments (also note: empty kegs can be sweet
coffee tables), and we have done a "shotski". We make friends while we are
drunk and we assign them an adjective that will forever precede their name
in order to distinguish them from the rest of the "friends" we make while
drunk (also because we do not know their last names.) "Sloppy Tom,"
"Chicago Sarah," and "Creepy Steve" will always be near and dear to our
hearts. We have no money because we spent it all on beer. This,
unfortunately, is also why we drink Povov and Crazy Horse, and trust us,
that takes heart. It grows on us after awhile...or after we've taken too
many shots to remember that what we're drinking tastes like gasoline. The
lack of money situation is also why if we see someone sipping a Corona,
they are a baller, and we will make friends with them. After a long night
of bonging beers at a house party, bravely resisting the urge to drunk
dial (and/or drunk IM) all of our ex-boyfriends, then going shot-for-shot
with a frat boy at the bar, we wake up hugging an empty box of wine in our
underwear on our best friend's kitchen floor with a million questions
running through our pounding heads. We wake up with random incoherent
numbers in our cell phones ("Who the hell is 'grEenshirtb4oy'?"), random
pictures on our cameras ("Look, here's one of so-and-so humping that
Corona guy on the dance floor..."), a mere 73 cents left in our wallets
("I didn't know Hold 'em was a drinking game?"), and a desperate desire to
lay in bed for the rest of our lives...it is then that we swear off
drinking forever...for real....we really mean it this time.... Yet, after
shotgunning a brewski or two and kickin back with a 40, we head to the
shower, beer in hand, and get ready to begin our evening once again. It
takes balls, simply put. We know how to party. We have honed and perfected
our art. We are lushes, bar stars, and boozehounds. Why do we act this way
you ask? Because we can. Because in 4 short, blurry years we will have to
enter the "real world". So for the time being we will live it up…As long
as there are beers to be drank and shots to be taken, we will be
there...as long as there are case races to be won and frat houses to pass
out in, we will be there...as long as there are tables to be danced on and
annoying eighties songs to sing loudly along to, WE WILL BE THERE!...but
we're not gonna lie, we probably won't remember it.
(Shelton's Addition: all the pronouns and female-oriented references were in this before and I'm too damn lazy to change them all)