>>> The Rollercoaster of Drama
By staff writer Simonne Cullen
May 9, 2004
To most freshman the biggest challenge is not registering for classes on time or getting the best dorm room possible, or even having a car on campus. Hell no. Your biggest challenge as a freshman is getting the most legitimate looking fake I.D. possible. Because to freshman the bars are like Disneyland. Plenty of things to ride…bar stools, mechanical bulls, people, plus live bands, DJs, and the occasional conga line that's really just a parade of drunks who perform about two hours before the park, I mean the bar, closes.
I admire the freshman girls who go downtown their freshman year. And I'm not referring to the chicks who go to school in a town where you can go to the bars when you're 19. I'm talking about the girls who have braved the downtown bars filled with undercover cops and bouncers, by wearing the tightest black pants possible. You and your camel toe pants had a lot more balls than I did.
And let me just state for the record that no one needs alcohol to make you happy. Does anyone ever notice that non-drinking sector of people who are playing Dungeons and Dragons or Halo in the lounge on a Saturday night? They're genuinely happy individuals. Our idea of being happy may not be sitting around on a Saturday night wearing Renaissance clothes and playing with big plastic swords, but I'm sure their idea of being happy isn't coming smelling like cigarettes and being penniless. Although I'll take the latter over the former any day.
Why is it okay for guys to black out and not remember their night, but when chicks are guilty of this the sin is just soooo scandalous? Because while guys would like to think that they fell asleep softly next to three naked beautiful women with squishy breasts, the truth is they're waking up next to three pounds of really squishy vomit.
Guys can roll over in the morning and wonder who the hell is sleeping next to them, but girls always seem to have better morning realizations. Like wondering why in the hell we're wearing our roommate's earplugs, in a bathing suit, bookshelves knocked over, Metallica blasting from the computer. Just hope the two random legs sticking out from under your bed have a body attached to them, because there's a helmet laying next to you, so you never really know.
Perhaps alcohol is so appealing because it dulls the pain of…well everything. A broken heart, a broken promise, and in some cases a broken bone. Guys are more likely to wake up with an appendage of theirs in several misshapen pieces. Because when guys are drunk they are severely accident prone. And it's usually because alcohol to them is like spinach to Popeye. Don't roll your eyes at that simile people, you know it's true. As guys down their sixth of seventh beer within the first hour of drinking, they are well on their way to late-night activities like strutting around the quad naked in negative thirty degree weather or strapping on rollerblades and attempting to play a game of three-on-three hockey on the second floor of a very narrow hallway while holding a forty. Which causes me to theorize that Jackass was based on drunken college students flailing around in a stolen shopping cart going downhill at 45 miles an hour and not Johnny Knoxville's sudden urge to paper cut his tongue.
My freshman year I always thought that guys who wore hockey and football helmets while they drank did it because they thought they were cool. Now I know better. They wear them so they won't smash their head wide open when they roll off their lofted beds.
When really blacked out, drunk girls tend to forget their manners. And by manners I mean forgetting to be hygienically efficient. Drunk girls don't have the ability to hover when they get into the public stall. They also don't have the mentality to make a nest for themselves out of toilet paper. So now we're liable to sit on anything from puke, to urine, to herpes. There are two solutions to this problem. You can pee all over yourself and get kicked out of the bar or try and remember that girls go to the bathroom in numbers and just pray one of your girlfriends sits down first. Proving that there really is safety in numbers.
Sometimes when girls are at the blacked out stage, they get a little too generous at the bar like guys. With us, panic ensues as we locate our purses and find a receipt inside that looks like it was signed by a four year old. $63? Okay that's not so bad, but what the hell is that? Did you leave your phone number in the blank space where you were supposed to put your tip? That's not fifteen percent! That's like three hundred thousand percent!
While guys are catapulting themselves straight into the ambulance, drunken women aren't proving themselves any better. They may not be donning pith helmets, but they are trying to arm themselves with warm bodies. Any warm body. Girls lose all inhibition after consuming alcohol in bulk quantities, in case you haven't been to a sorority party lately. We can all roll our eyes at the chicks who are pointing and shamelessly flirting with guys clearly out of their league, but it's even greater to laugh hysterically and childishly point at the girl who's making out with the air as the the guy pushes her forehead back in disgust. Unless that girl is you, and you have to hear about it the next morning from his mouth at brunch. Then it's not funny at all. Where were your friends to stop you? Oh that's right. Catching a UTI in the bathroom.
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