Beer Goggles 2.0: Dancing Girls

We’ve all heard the phrase “beer goggles.” It’s a term that is very much a part of the parlance of college life. It can be summarily described in the following statement:

(a) phenomenon in which one's consumption of alcohol makes physically unattractive persons appear beautiful; summed up by the phrase," there are no ugly women at closing time (source: Urban Dictionary)

Intrinsic to the aforementioned definition, is the fact that this concept is primarily attributable to guys. This is because, while anyone’s willingness to fuck an ugly person can in fact waver based on their alcohol intake, regardless of sex, it is a phenomenon more prevalent in men than in women. This is because God, on the 2^nd day of genesis, decided to give women their own kind of beer goggles. Except that the beer goggles mighty Zeus decided to create on that fateful day don’t effect how girls perceive other guys once their drunk, they affect their conceptualization of how they look while they’re dancing.

"It’s a nasty business being a ho, and that’s exactly the way they like it."

We’ve all bared witness to it. That girl with the beer gut in the turquoise tank top flailing her limbs like she was caught in a grease fire. That willowy brunette whose robotic movements simulate the mating call of a large predatory alligator. Or maybe that skanky piece of white trash with nothing on besides a glorified sports bra, caught up in a delusional fantasy that she’s Gwen Stefani. The examples of female beer goggles in today’s society are as numerous as the reality shows on television. All you need to do to witness one of these debacles in motion is find a local hotspot for fruity drink specials and Fergalicious songs.

The differences between the effects of beer goggles on the two sexes are an example of dimorphism. Which, consequently, explains the huge seething vagina of Allison Parks. The way this difference elicits itself in terms of the behavior of men and women, is however, a much more fickle mistress. It is obvious what happens from the male point of view, evidenced by this simple mathematical equation:

B + P = V

Beer plus Penis equals Vagina, for those of you who didn’t pass algebra one. To refine the concept a little more, in 2004 researchers at Rutgers University concluded that the “early intense stages of falling in love showed clear differences in male and female brains.” In the male brain, there was much more activity in two specific regions: the section that deals with visual stimuli, and boner control. In short, the effect of mass consumption of alcohol reduces the computational power of these regions.

Sober version: (vision) “That girl has a nice rack” – (boner control) “Nice racks are a dime a dozen today”

Drunk version: (v) “BOOBS” – (b-c) “BOOBS GOOOOOOOD”

For females however, as per fucking usual, things are a little bit more complicated than that. You see, alcohol targets a complex network of regions within the female brain, resulting in a rabid delusional fantasy where every time a girl starts dancing drunk, she’s in a music video, AND more importantly, it is perfectly acceptable to be a ho. In fact the more sluttiness she is able to convey through rhythmic gyrations of the pelvis, the better she looks. This is especially evident when a group of drunken girls are dancing together; and trust me, that shit happens all the time. It’s like all the shameless grandstanding, competitiveness, and one-uppery that are part and participle to male friendship are condensed into a Footloose-esque dance-off between a girl and her closest friends. Except Kevin Bacon would have no part of this debaucherous jiggle fest. John Lithgow either.

The parallel between male friendship continues in this vein; much like when an innocent round of rasslin’ between guy friends escalates out of control inexplicably (usually at the behest of some tool who took karate lessons growing up), these group clusterfucks of female showmanship tread a slippery slope. The group of girlfriends start out by sending a pheromone signal to each other indicating the initiation of a contest to see who can simulate having sex with air the best. Points are awarded based on vibration levels, hip thrusting diameter, limb flailing, and nastiest facial expression. This contest continues until one of two things happen: either the girls become summarily distracted by a couple of tall guys with a lot of gel in their hair, or Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” comes on. If and when Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” comes on (and believe me, it will come on sooner or later), the point system is instantly redistributed to reflect who can propel their perspiration in the farthest radius to the beat of the music. It’s a nasty business being a ho, and that’s exactly the way they like it. Where I come from we call this the Fat Camp Slip ’n Slide because it involves a lot of moisture and jiggling.

So the next time you find yourself drunk, horny, and desperate, looking for some other beast to fornicate with, take pride in your god given right to lose all standards. It could be a lot worse gentleman—every time we got drunk we could all think we’re in a rap video.

Things That Piss Me Off

Guy’s who wear scarfs. A scarf is a perfectly acceptable way to keep warm on a cold day, but wearing it for this reason is not what I’m getting at. I’m talking about that metrosexual piece of shit seen gallivanting in all forms of weather (and even indoors!) with some Burberry knockoff around his neck simply because he thinks it completes his outfit. Here’s a little fact about casual scarf wearers you may not be aware of: they love it in the butt. Sad but true, the correlation between wearing a scarf for aesthetics and anal penetration is close to 99%. Consider yourself warned.