Mistakes Were Made (Part One)

I’m sure it comes as no surprise to anyone that I love to drink (I’m almost always drunk when I write something for this blog. Hence the litany of typos that I refuse to change even after I sober up because I don’t care and no one reads these devil words that closely anyway).

I’m pretty sure I’ve consumed just about every type of alcohol available, and if you’re like me (an alcoholic) then you have probably made some drink combinations that were vile and could peel the paint off a boat, but you probably also finished said drink only to have some sort of negative consequences. This is one of my favorite times.

(Frat story approaching just FYI)

So two of my brothers, Ken and Adam (neither of their real names), were going on simultaneous trips and I had a rule at our house, if you go to another state you have to bring back a local beer (I’m a huge fan of cool local brews if you’ve never read my yelp page which I highly recommend). Instead of beer, they both brought me something much better. Ken brought Everclear (the real stuff not that cheap garbage they sell in Minnesota) and Adam brought a bottle of absinthe (I’m assuming not legit absinthe that makes you hallucinate and shit but it was still pretty damn cool.) Naturally, my reaction was like when I’d wake up on Christmas morning and my parents had stayed awake all night to build some giant elaborate toy or structure for my siblings and I. Alcohol is adult Christmas. God bless my parents and God bless my former housemates.

First thing I did was rip the cap off the Everclear and pour shots (because I’m a sadist.) Now, regular vodka is bad enough to do shots with but Everclear should not be allowed on store shelves, this shit serves no purpose except to make large batch death brew for an awful party. Ken and Adam immediately refused the shots but being the housemaster (and much larger) I made them. They both wretched at the smell and nearly died from the taste while I couldn’t control my violent laughter.

“Let’s try the absinthe!” I shouted like a viking warlord thirsty for blood. They both responded with pained groans but ultimately agreed.

Absinthe is so cool. It came with this medieval spoon and it’s fucking green! It looks like something from a science fiction movie. I pulled the cork out and started to pour a drink for myself.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,”  Ken said hesitantly.

“Yeah he’s right bro,” Adam chimed in, “You have to use that spoon and pour it over sugar.”

“Sugar?!” I yell/ask.

“Yeah bro, sugar.”

“Well fuck that! I’m on Atkins!” I yelled as I continued to pour the absinthe into the nearest vessel by me. (SIDE NOTE: I was not on Atkins and I have no idea what Atkins is even to this day).

The green liquid smelled awful,for those that don’t know, absinthe has a very distinct black liquorice flavor, but that didn’t stop me from downing the green substance in one painful swallow.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Adam said.

“Fuck you, it’s the best idea,”I’m such a clever drunk.

Adam then proceeded to place a sugar cube on the fancy spoon and pour the absinthe over it into another glass and it became clear! Fucking clear! This stuff is so cool. It tasted much better with the sugar. I was proven wrong once again.


Deal with it. Part two will be out shortly. I didn’t want to write one long alcohol saga so I made a multi part epic. Enjoy this while I sleep off my hangover.


After School Special

“Come on man, you’re going to love it I promise,” Jake said while holding a marijuana pipe in his hand.

I had never done anything beyond having too much to drink so this was quite a new experience for me despite being in my twenties. The idea of drugs still seemed scary and dangerous as all those teachers in grade school had made it seem. Indeed, I was a truly ignorant child.

“I swear, you’re going to love it,” Jake assured once more as he handed me his pipe.

“I don’t even know what to do,” I said both honestly and ashamed at my inexperience.

“It’s easy, just put your thumb over the hole on the side, light the top, and take a big inhale. It’s just that easy.” I did just as he instructed.

As the smoke traveled through my mouth down my throat it felt as if a thousand very sharp knives were stabbing my esophagus. I coughed instantly and Jake began laughing hysterically.

“That was really good,” he said, the pride beaming from his eyes knowing he had taken my narcotics virginity.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said with a big grin on his face.

We jumped in his hot rod and began cruising down country roads taking rips off his pipe. I felt like I was the coolest person in the universe.

I wish I could say we got into all sorts of drug addled shenanigans or got arrested and make this a cautionary tale, but we didn’t. We drove around, smoked pot, went home and watched a television documentary about super volcanoes. At some point in the night I switched to alcohol and passed out on the couch. I woke up the next morning to find Jake sleeping in the bath tub. Apparently he finished our vodka and thought the tub was a safe place to sleep. Moral of the story, drugs are fun.

Pressure without the Peers

I started a fraternity in college with a handful of friends. This was not, in any way, an official college sanctioned fraternity; this was a social club founded by a couple of bored twenty-somethings to have an excuse to drink on a Tuesday mid-morning (not that we really needed an excuse).

Despite the stigma, fraternities and sororities do a lot of good for the community and serve as an important social environment for many college students. Our fraternity was nowhere close to any of these things. We were rowdy, belligerent, and overall rude. For the most part, we were how fraternities are portrayed in movies and television. I never amassed a large amount of amusing stories from these days, other than the typical drunk nonsense, but there’s one moment that always sticks with me.

Chad (not his real name) was Chinese, this detail is not important for the story but just for character development, but Chad was not from China. He was a fifth generation American so he was about as Chinese as I am Irish. He spoke with a very standard “Dude Bro” voice that most frat guys have. One afternoon, Chad and I were sitting on the porch of the rundown home we rented as our clubhouse and he started smoking a cigarette. I have never noticed Chad smoke before so naturally this caught me off guard.

“When did you start smoking?” I asked inquisitively.

“Oh this?” Chad said pointing to the cigarette in his mouth.

“Yeah that.”

“I started smoking last week.”

“Last week?”


“You just decided to take up smoking?” I ask, admittedly very confused.


“Any particular reason? I don’t care, I just find it odd that you have the mentality as if you started a normal hobby like jogging.”

“Well I get high every once in awhile,” Chad says.

“I’m aware, but that doesn’t explain the cigarette,” now I’m getting annoyed.

“So, you know that girl Kate (not her real name)?” Chad asks.


“She smokes, so I figured this gives me the perfect excuse to talk to her,” Chad says this as if it’s a totally normal thing to say. Needless to say, I’m speechless.

“Fuck you,” I finally say after several minutes of silently watching cars drive by.


“You’re kidding right? You started smoking so you’d have an excuse to talk to a girl?”

“Well, not just her, a lot of girls smoke,” Chad says trying to defend himself.

“That doesn’t mean you start smoking! Just go talk to them like a normal person” I start yelling.

“But this gives me a perfect intro.”

“So does ‘hello’ you fucking idiot, except ‘hello’ won’t kill you faster!”

“Whatever man, you’ll see, this is going to work great.”

It did not work great, at all. Kate completely ignored him, and so did virtually every other girl Chad tried smoking with. The worst part of all, it’s been several years and Chad still smokes, granted so does his girlfriend, so maybe he’s a secret genius, but I still think he’s an idiot.