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Get drunk and make your dreams come true.

Aziz Ansari

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Round up the Mike's Hard Lemonade and Palm Bay, white gurrllllll, it's Wednesday and finals are for people who sit at the front of the bus. 

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At the Den...

I attempted to set a record for the number of plastic cups I could break by smacking them off the tables. I didn't break any of them and got my ass handed to me by a girl instead. 

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At the Den...

An overcast day in the beginning of September, I'd say that's the perfect weather for getting belligerent. So I did.

It was residence move in day, so naturally we were chilling in the courtyard sipping on some of that everclear and root beer shit, excited by the arrival of a fresh new batch of 18 year old sloots and the lords of douche that still think it's cool to wear Ed Hardy. After about half a bottle of everclear, I started to reminisce about the times we had in our first year. All those floors we pissed on, all those unlocked rooms that were a great place to party, so we found some poor innocent young soul to let us in to the building as security was tighter than Shamu's snatch.

We got up to the floor and we had to figure out whether these new people living in our old stomping grounds are as badass as we used to be. Clearly they were inferior. Regardless, we were telling everybody how we had just moved in on the floor above and we had never tasted that sweet nectar of the gods that is alcohol before and in their naive ways, an invite to a party was extended our way. At this party, some dude who I can only assume idolized Mike "The Situation" as his god and wore woman's underwear was walking around with a bottle of Everclear like he was some sort of a big deal. Challenge accepted. In order to show him that I had a bigger dick than he did, we did shots. 

I showed those bitches how we party. Bitches love parties.

Shit got real when the residence party-poopers decided to roll up. Apparently we were famous from our debauchery in first year and we got spotted and we were asked to leave unless we hung out with the lovely attractive girl who let us in earlier, fuck that shit. We left. 

Things got a little blurry at this point because of all the gasoline that I had pumped into my system during the odd hours of the afternoon and my vision was, at this point, very Asian. I did notice however, campus security was near me and I don't really know what triggered either of my next two actions, but they happened. I burst into a full on sprint while yelling, "fuck the police", running with both my middle fingers high up in the air. Apparently I wasn't as fast as I thought, and I realized this as they tackled me from behind leading me to a, what was more than epic face plant. They felt it was necessary that the Police escorted me home, as if I was going to cause problems, so just to fuck with them I gave them the wrong address. Yeah, I lie to the cops. But really, I was shit scared and didn't want to have to eat a cock meat sandwich that belonged to some big native named Big Mouthwash, so I gave the 5-o my real address. Bruce Lee, my landlord, wasn't too pleased when the police knocked on the front door with my drunk ass standing there bleeding all over his porch, but because he didn't get too upset, I can only assume he had done the same thing the night before.

Everclear, because anything with a lower alcohol percentage is for hipsters. 

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At the Den...

Well what else is there to do on a Wednesday night but go to the busiest bar on campus and stuff your face with wings while washing it down with too much beer?

Probably study, or do homework. But that's beside the point. Homework is for people who play by the rules.

I'm Wednesday drunk again.

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At the Den...

As the pre-gaming started to floweth, I had the idea that peeing on someone's shoe would be my new past time each time I went to the bathroom because peeing in a trough is for poor people. Of course at the time, this idea seemed really funny. 12 beers later, this quickly became the best idea of all time. Step aside telephones and toaster strudels.

My first mistake was going into the bathroom alone, but I don't like to limit myself based on minor details. As I am pissing I start to laugh, and this draws the attention of the vertically challenged gentleman next to me. At this point the bathroom is packed and the chances of making it out alive are great. We make eye contact and that's when I start pissing on his shoes. That's when he decides it would be a good idea to shove me, not knowing that it would lead me to giving his Levi's a golden shower. He shoves me again as the final drops of piss are breaking free. He is perrty mad now. This BAMF's next and final move was to take my hat as I pissed on him laughing, and he walked out of the bathroom thinking he won this battle. 

I pissed on a guys leg and he took my hat. 

Me - 1 Frodo - 0 

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Whaling 101

Gas up your boat, sharpen the harpoons and get ready to learn about everyone's favorite on-going bar bet. What started off as a good ol' fashioned American tradition, has quickly risen to become one of the most popular bar-vents in the world along with dwarf tossing, mechanical bull riding and midget wrestling.

Welcome to the first day of class, this is Whaling 101.

First, we must define "The Whale". We've all seen that one lady that bears a striking resemblance to Free Willy or Moby Dick and she's usually rifling multiple Twinkies down her throat wondering why nobody likes her. She is that one girl who walks in to the bar and the first thing she asks any staff member is, "what time do you serve food until?" She is THAT girl in the group, she kills all the fun, the loudest and most obnoxious of the bunch and exposes way too much of herself in attempt to be "sexy" on the dance floor. 

The sport of Whaling begins at 3 in the afternoon when the first beers are cracked and bets are made, and by god if it ever goes down, they better get paid. Always started with the line, "Boys, it's whaling time", the next 9 hours of pre-gaming consist of conversations about who can reel in that elusive 420 pound Albino whale. 

Once at the bar, that all important drink that takes you from "I fell down the stairs drunk" to "Crying because you shit yourself drunk" is consumed. The whale watching begins. 

Once Free Willy is spotted with a Pornstar in one hand and what's left of her dignity in the other, you make your move. Casting your bait of false compliments a long with being so drunk your dignity left you just as fast as that fourth shotgun, you move this party to the dance floor where you initiate physical contact by grabbing what appear to be boobs, but are really 4 double cheeseburgers and 42 twinkies that did not get digested. 

As the night progresses, things start to heat up until she reaches that fatal crossroad where low self esteem meets high self esteem. You did it, you truly are an asshole. As you quickly become self-aware of what has happened, 50 bucks and a months supply of Ramen Noodles doesn't really seem worth it anymore as you realize you do not want to die because she thinks it'll be fun to go on top.

At this point, you sober up shockingly fast and Usain Bolt doesn't have shit on you when you are trying to make it home. You start with a full sprint from the dance floor and do not stop until you are at home. You then question which part of the night made you less of a man, the fact that you wasted your whole night with Shamu or you couldn't close with San Diego's favorite Killer Whale. 

The best part is, that elusive hunt for the deadliest snatch begins again in 12 hours. 

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At the Den...

I pulled down my pants for everyone to see, but it was okay, my penis was tucked in between my legs.