I'm a freshman at the University of Oregon, which means I'm basically borderline alcoholic. As a matter of fact, the only reason that I don't call myself an alcoholic is because I don't go to meetings and talk about my feelings. However, I do revel in talking about my silly drinking stories. I am by no means a Tucker Max, but then again, who is? I am pretty sure that I outdid myself more than ever this last Saturday night.
Now bare with the beginning of the story, the end is more than worth it.
So far, my first winter break from college has been good. Saturday there was a hoodie party, to which I took one of my Cerebrahum's to. While I've been drinking for a few years, I'd never actually had wine before. Here is a time-line of my night .
9:00: Arrive at the party, first beer with the High School Brahzasaureses
9:06: Second Beer, off to a good start.
9:16: A bottle of cheap red wine is handed to me. I proceed to drink out of the bottle because I suck at life.
9:35: First bottle of wine done. I'm a heavy drinker so I'm just barely getting to the inebriated stage. Probably has something to do with my loose relation to Lindsay Lohan.
9:35-10:00: Another beer, trying to take it slow because I wanted to go home and sleep in my own bed without my mother knowing that I am drunk. Just to avoid drama, ya know?
10:30: More beers. Starting to feel good.
11:00: Really drunk underage lady friend asks me "Why haven't you ever gotten in my pants?" in front of an entire room of people. My response, "Because you bought your pants in the children's department." Girl rushes out of room, everyone laughs, I'm an asshole, I know.
11:30: Couple shots of Jim Bean, feeling great.
11:45: My DD and I give a couple of high school girls a ride home because they're weak sauce and have midnight curfews. Girls get caught by parents smelling it on them as we speed off.
12:00: Back to the party, bottle of wine #2 is opened exclusively for me.
12:30: Bottle empty. Shit faced.
12:31: Brahomski finds a half full (I'm optimistic) bottle of wine. He drinks some, hands it to me.
12:40: Fuck I drank the rest of it. I'm totally fucked up.
12:45: Fuck it, another beer.
12:50: Excessively using the word "fuck" to help me describe the hippies in Eugene.
1:00: Fall over. Hit head.
1:30: Guys mom comes home. Run. Fall. Laugh. Get in car with the most sober person I could find. (Or the first within eye-shot)
1:45: Get home. Try to open door, drop keys 6 times.
1:47: Open door. Mom standing on the inside of it. Keys woke her up.
1:47:30: Mom deduces that I'm drunk within moments of seeing me and sends me to bed because she's awesome.
1:48: Black out.
The next day.
10:00 AM: Woken up to help cut up a tree that fell on our house. (God hates me) Very hung over. Find myself naked with rugburn on my hip. Very confused.
2:00 PM: Father tells me, "Don't do that again." To which I respond "Do what?" to which he says "Pass out naked in the bathroom with your head on the toilet seat. Your mother had to drag your naked ass to bed."
Jesus titty fucking Christ. I am awesome. I had held out a conversation with my mom during the day more than once and she hadn't mentioned it. Had this happened to me 3 months earlier, I would be a castrated man, but now that I'm in college, I have free reign. Isn't college amazing?
Upon asking my mom what happened in the bathroom, she replies, "I will never tell a single soul, that is your only punishment."
Shit. Not the response I wanted.
I go out later and buy her some flowers because I'm awesome like that. Then I go to a party.
I will never drink wine again.
But at least the Mystery of the Naked Rugburn Wine Wake Up is solved.