Category Archives: hilarious

Drunk story #1

So, here’s one of my better drunk stories. It all began one fateful Saturday morning; a beautiful Fall day and a still-drunk-from-last-night me…

It was a tailgate morning, and being on a Big 10 campus tailgating is a big deal. Being students our setup was minimal but contained all the necessities: grill, burgers, and lots of cheap beer. However, this day we also had a red hardhat with horns on it someone had stolen from the dorm cafeteria. Destiny (and lots of beer) brought us together.

It was only technically nine hours into the day and yet six of those I had spent drinking, not an uncommon occurrence so I thought I could handle it. I was wrong. Someone put the helmet on me and being in a very impressional state I was told to begin ramming people. So, like a raging 135lb. bull I began a reign of destruction upon all those who entered our tailgate.

Many videos were made of me ramming people, knocking them over, and then screaming, “I RAMMED THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!” However, you can imagine that by this point I am becoming particularly unstable on my feet. Somehow I can ram people just fine but I can’t stand up on my own so I did the only reasonable thing a man in my situation would do: I hugged a tree for support. Scratch that, I didn’t just hug the tree, I was practically making love to it. See for yourself…

tree-hugger

You’d think that after that I’d be done. You’d be wrong. A girl I knew took me and my best friend back to the dorms so we could pass out in peace. I wasn’t ready to pass out though, I felt like shaving. My chest. Dry. In the hallway. Wearing only my boxers.

The girl saw me doing that and pulled me into my best friend’s room which thankfully happened to be nearby. I then proceeded to pass out on his futon. I awoke several hours later with my friend passed out on top of me. He was also wearing only his boxers. It was totally gay. We woke up, put clothes on, and started drinking again.

I miss college.

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Chadwick’s the name and debauchery’s my game

Like most people I do stupid things. Many stupid things. Mostly in college. Mainly due to alcohol consumption.

Being at the wedding last week brought up fragments of many memories of the flat out stoopid stuff I did in college and how even though I’ve grown up I still do stupid and oftentimes hilarious things.

Grad School Interview
I’m not sure what other grad schools are like, but biology grad schools compete heavily for qualified applicants so they set aside large amounts of money to woo us to coming to their school. Because of this one of my interviews turned out to be rather interesting.

There were roughly nineteen applicants for this particular recruitment session (the first, they like to take the best in the first round, just tooting my own horn) plus at least twenty current grad students at a comedy show. This was an officially sanctioned event at the tail end of the two day recruitment session, so drinks were comped by the university. I thought it was the end of the night, so me and a friend ordered two full pitchers of long island iced teas. It was great. We laughed, we cried, we got drunk.

As we exited the theatre a large portion of the current grad students (~15) decided we should go to a nearby bar. I haven’t bought a thing in the past two days and I didn’t have an early flight, so I thought “sure, why not? I can afford a bar tab” Bad choice, but not for the reason you may think.

You see, this particular school told the grad students to take us out after the show and treat us to a good time. That meant a bear minimum of thirty mid-to-late twenties students at a bar on the university’s tab. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that’s how bad stories start. I kept it together for the first four or five drinks at the first bar, making friends and just generally being ridiculous, but then we went to the second bar. I remember some of what transpired next, but not all of it. I remember talking to another, very attractive applicant at a very close proximity due to the loud music (and necessary body contact), dancing was involved and I’m certainly no dancer, and there may have been some ass grabbing. Oh yeah, I forgot to add I like grabbing ass when drunk; male, female, animal, it doesn’t really matter. Next thing I remember is hailing a cab with this chick, heading back to the hotel, almost getting lost directly in front of the hotel, and then passing out on my luxurious hotel bed.

Everyone had horrible hangovers the next morning and most of us blacked out at least some part of the night (I call it time traveling) which scared the beejezus out of me because I really liked the school and wanted desperately to go there. For the next two weeks I was freaking out trying to remember past events that could have compromised my chances of getting into my dream school. Thankfully, I received the congratulatory phone call and all was good in the world.

I couldn’t have done something too stupid and still gotten in, right?

(Please note: this isn’t even close to the dumbest, most ridiculous thing I’ve done. I’m just warming you readers up.)

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Filed under crazy, grad school, hilarious, life

On Cluelessness

I like to think of myself as a fairly sharp individual who picks up on verbal and non-verbal cues.  Apparently, I’m wrong.

Yesterday, I was at the wedding of two of my college friends and me and a bunch of buddies were swapping stories, reliving old times, and just generally having a good time.  The best part was focusing on a single person and telling the funniest, most embarrassing, and most memorable shit we could remember to everyone in earshot (like my best friend who described his first rimjob experience: “it was like seeing a color you’ve never seen before,” by far the funniest of the night).

Unbeknownst to me, I was most well known among the people at the table as a heart breaker.  Every single one of them had a story of me inadvertently breaking a girls heart.    Even worse was that most of the people were talking about different women, so in total there were at least five women that I hurt and had little to no idea.  I knew some of them had crushes on me that I thought was kind of cute at the time, but I didn’t think I lead any of them on.  For instance, I gave one girl a kiss on her birthday.  I knew she had a little crush on me and I thought it’d make her night if I gave her a nice kiss (don’t remember exactly, but I think it was tongueless), and I was right; she perked right up and had a great night.  That was a bad idea.  She soon developed a much larger crush on me to which I was not privy and thought I shared feelings for her due to her birthday kiss.  One friend in particular had to console her though several crying sessions of which I was the unknowing cause.  It still baffles me to this day how I couldn’t have known how much she liked me.

That was actually the least painful of the stories I heard and I won’t go into any of the others since I played a slightly more active role in them and you’ll probably think slightly less of me for them since I may have played a more active role in what transpired (in my defense, it WAS college).  What hurt me most though was my personal view that I was good at reading people was being directly contradicted by these stories that my bastard friends had the gall to remember and retell.  However, upon close examination of my past I have noticed that I’ve always been a little retarded in the “how girls feel about me” category while I can read people very well in just about every other regard.  This is a problem I’ve had since middle school and something I’m going to have to change since I will soon be back on the market.

Don’t you hate it when friends make you think about self improvement?  Fucking bastards.

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Filed under childhood, hilarious, home, life, sleep deprived

My first porn mag

Being back in my hometown brings back memories.  They’re split roughly fifty-fifty, but I try to focus on the good memories.  Looking back I have noticed a number of milestones that a lot of people don’t typically consider milestones but I do.  Of course you have your first kiss, first job, prom, graduation, and all that other bullshit associated with that time of your life, but I’m more interested with things like the first time you evaded the cops or the first time you got into a fight.  Or, for us guys out there, the first time you acquired a porn mag (is it the same for you women out there?).

The parallels between a twelve year-old looking to buy his first porn mag and an adult looking to score some weed are uncanny.  You find the shadiest person you know personally and broach the subject up in a very round about fashion and hope the other person catches on.  The person you happen to know doesn’t sell the stuff himself, but he invariably knows someone who does and puts you in contact with him.  You talk to the shady dude’s even shadier friend, details are hashed out, prices negotiated, and then the goods are delivered in an undercover fashion.  It’s all very exciting.

I kinda feel bad for kids these days in this instance.  They don’t have to go through back channels to see their first naked lady posing because they can just google “boobs” and be left with enough porn to last them several lifetimes.  More than anything getting my first porn mag wasn’t so much about the magazine itself and what it meant to my life at the time, but the process of obtaining it.  Does this just mean kids need to start buying weed at the age of twelve?  You tell me.

It’s important to get outside of that comfort zone and take a fucking chance sometimes.  That is what this is all about.  I knew plenty of kids who didn’t take any chances and they were boring as hell.  Don’t be one of those people!  Go out and buy a porn mag!

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Filed under childhood, hilarious, life, sleep deprived