Tag Archives: drunkenness

The Great American Challenge

Thursday night was the Great American Challenge at our house. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this ridiculous challenge, it consists of teams of 4-5 people consuming: a 30 rack of beer, a fifth of liquor, and an entire Costco pizza, and then attempting a puzzle after all of that is done. The first to finish wins, and vomiting will get you disqualified, leaving your team with one less person to assist in consuming everything.

There were glass bottles shattering in the driveway, cans being thrown out windows, and pizza being eaten off of the floor. Some wild dance moves came out as the night progressed rapidly, perhaps too quickly for some, as a couple of people began to lose their composure (and their dinner).  After every drop of alcohol, crumb of pizza, and all of the weed was gone, the puzzle solving began. This was the most slow-going part of the challenge, as the full and team members fumbled with the pieces. It was quite entertaining to watch, and it was a great kick-off to Cinco de Mayo (Drinko de Mayo?) weekend. See for yourself!

Check out Aaron and Travis’ dance moves!

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Young Wesley’s Birthday Rager

Friday night, our house saw possibly one of the biggest ragers to happen here this year. It was Young Wesley’s birthday party, and it was quite the celebration. Tons of people (some friends, but mostly friends of friends and randoms) showed up at the house ready to party. We got Wesley a bottle of cake flavored vodka and melted candles to the top, then lighted it while everyone sang him happy birthday. Wesley’s friend also got a DJ to play on our balcony, complete with lasers. The DJ (who was absolutely terrible) blew a fuse after the first half an hour he played, and then came storming into the garage telling us we didn’t know how to work our own circuit breaker.

The party raged on as people climbed onto our kitchen counters to dance. Randoms continued to flow in and the DJ continued to suck. His set up was so bad that people kept tripping over his cords and cutting the music every ten minutes. When the midnight rolled around and the DJ didn’t stop playing, Nala told him to shut it off so that we wouldn’t get another noise violation. He had agreed earlier to turn off the music on time, but once it actually came time to do so, he didn’t follow through. It took a little bit of angry convincing on Nala’s part to get him to quit, but then the crowd cheered for more. After a few minutes, the DJ turned it back on, and promptly got an earful from Nala. Finally, he stopped, but continued to act like a jerk on his way out, pushing and shoving us as he took his gear to the door.

A lack of music didn’t stop people from partying, but they did begin to get unruly. A couple of small fights broke out on the stairs as the rest of the party clamored to get a glimpse of it. Then another girl followed by a small posse, ran up the stairs claiming that she was called to someone to fight there. She yelled repeatedly that the other girl must be too scared to face her before Travis kicked her and the other angry drunks out.

Inevitably, our house was trashed after all of this. Every bathroom had broken glass on the counters. Red cups and little were strewn about, but that was nothing compared to the vomit on the windowsill of the upstairs bathroom. We even found hot pink lipstick marks all over the shower — as if some drunken girl decided it would be a good idea to kiss the definitely dirty shower walls. The next morning, I opened the door to the downstairs bathroom only to discover our flowers had been pulled out of their vase and thrown on the shower floor, along with gobs of hair gel all over. I heard later that people deliberately tried to destroy everything bathroom in our house, but I have no idea why.


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ER Trips….on the reg.

Last night Ethan went to the hospital with food poisoning, unbeknownst to most of the house. At around midnight, Brandon and I went to go pick Ethan up from the emergency room. When we arrived, Ethan was still sick as a dog and getting IV fluids, so he wasn’t quite ready to leave. Brandon and I proceeded to talk about medicine, Judaism, heaven and hell, and more, while Ethan rested in between the nurses poking and prodding him. When he started to feel better, we left the hospital, Brandon joking with the staff on our way out.

We got into Ethan’s car, and Brandon began to drive. It wasn’t long until there was a cop behind us and we began to get the feeling that we were about to be pulled over. Ethan remembered he had a tail light out, and we figured that being in a jeep that pulled to the right wouldn’t sit well with a cop at 2:00 in the morning in a college town.

Sure, enough, the sheriff flipped on his lights, and we pulled over to the side. He came around to the driver’s side and asked where we were coming from.

“The hospital,” we all said in unison.

The officer had made his judgement, and immediately decided we weren’t up to any trouble. He asked why we were at the hospital.

” Food poisoning,” Ethan blurted in a mumbling, sedated tone. The officer noted the pink hospital basin at his feet, and the blankets he was wrapped in, and dismissed the suddenness and dryness of his answer.

The sheriff asked for Brandon’s license and the registration and insurance for the car, as usual. Brandon fumbled around in Ethan’s glove box, and pulled out a stack of crumpled papers. He sighed deeply as he set them in his lap and begin to sort through them, and the officer patiently shined his flashlight onto the stack.

“Is this it?”

“Nope, that’s 2006,” the officer chuckled.

“Hmm…this? No, 2009….2006, 2008, 2011….”

Brandon waded through the papers until he finally came upon the 2012 registration. He handed it to the cop, but he stood waiting still. Then Brandon began to go back through the stack looking for proof of insurance. But it was nowhere to be found.

The officer explained that it was unlawful, but gave us a break. He let us go after Ethan promised to fix his taillight, throw out his old registration, and keep the proof of insurance in the car.

********

This whole ER experience reminded me of the last time I took Ethan to the ER, all too early in the morning.

It was 2:00 am the last day of Fall quarter finals. I was exhausted from taking my last test, but a few of us went out anyways. After a fun-filled evening of freestyle rapping, T.V. smashing, beer shotgunning, and exploding fireplaces, we headed home. It was cold so I rushed to my garage to turn on my space heater, and Wesley, Ethan, and Sienna followed.

After a few minutes, Ethan began to get tired. He laid down on my bed, which rolled slightly on the cement it sat on. As he drifted off to sleep, Wesley sat down beside him. Laughing, he mimed slapping Ethan. Then he pulled his arm back, and slapped Ethan’s ass. Startled, Ethan sat up, turned around, and slapped Wesley in the face. Wesley retaliated, and soon they were rolling around on the bed, which was, in itself, rolling around on the ground. It rolled out from underneath them, and they both tumbled to the cement floor, brushing the fiberglass insulation on the garage door. Ethan hit his head. Hard. He came up bleeding from his lip and disoriented. He was holding his head, and in drunken pain.

As the only one who was sober, and Ethan still in pain a half an hour later, when he decided he wanted to go the emergency room, I was the one to drive.

“Can we stop at Jack in the Box on the way??” Wesley asked, drunkenly laughing as we walked to the car, bleeding Ethan in tow.

Everyone climbed in the car and we drove off, speeding to the hospital. Wesley tried to turn up the radio multiple times, and I turned it back down multiple times.

When we got to the ER, I signed Ethan in, and they took him back right away, but not before we had a chance to say hi to the two blonde guys with broken fingers, who we had coincidentally seen partying at our house earlier that night. The triage nurse asked what was going on in town, and mentioned that he’d already seen five head injuries that night.

They ran tests and kept a close eye on Ethan until 5:00am, when they finally sent him home with a simple but serious concussion diagnosis. I went straight to bed when we got back to the house, in disbelief of all that had happened that night…and I’m not even telling the whole story!

Poor Ethan sure does seem to have some bad luck when it comes to needing to visit the ER.

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