Drunk? Don't drive (unless you've got something important to do)
It stays light late on summer nights in Bowling Green, Ohio; it's one of the perks of living on the western edge of Eastern time. Near the summer solstice, the sun will not set until around nine pm, which makes for some lengthy end of school year alcohol extravaganzas. On one such day of revelry, at the conclusion of my sophomore year, I spent much of the afternoon annihilating my motor skills on BG's south end. I was vaguely aware that this put me in an awkward position; at some point I'd have to drive to the other side of town for further celebrations. Ordinarily, in my befuddled state, I would have probably just said "fuck it" and stayed put, but it was a journey that had to be made. Why? There was a certain fine piece of ass on the other side of town, and I wasn't about to miss out on it.
I said my goodbyes, assured everyone that I was, in fact, "Cool to drive" and stumbled my way out the front door. My friend James stood amused on the front porch as I drunkenly assessed my surroundings. It was now past ten and quite dark. After some disorientation, I located my car and engaged in the final staggerings necessary to commence this perilous quest.
I flopped into the driver's seat and took a deep breath, repeatedly whispering to myself, "You can do this". Already, the entire vehicle was beginning to reek of Coors Light and rum, so I popped 3 or 4 pieces of wintermint gum into my mouth and rolled down all four windows. I started the car, fastened my seatbelt, turned the radio off (so as not to be distracted) and grabbed the steering wheel firmly, at precisely ten and two. There I sat for a few moments, practicing the entire route in my mind, over and over, the way an Olympic bobsledder might prior to his final run. Eventually, realizing that I had mustered all the confidence that I was ever going to, I signaled, pulled out and plunged into the night.
James' lone voice rang out in the darkness.
"Turn your fucking lights on!"
We here at the Basterd Files do not condone this sort of behaviour, but we do agree that it can be tremendously funny.
I said my goodbyes, assured everyone that I was, in fact, "Cool to drive" and stumbled my way out the front door. My friend James stood amused on the front porch as I drunkenly assessed my surroundings. It was now past ten and quite dark. After some disorientation, I located my car and engaged in the final staggerings necessary to commence this perilous quest.
I flopped into the driver's seat and took a deep breath, repeatedly whispering to myself, "You can do this". Already, the entire vehicle was beginning to reek of Coors Light and rum, so I popped 3 or 4 pieces of wintermint gum into my mouth and rolled down all four windows. I started the car, fastened my seatbelt, turned the radio off (so as not to be distracted) and grabbed the steering wheel firmly, at precisely ten and two. There I sat for a few moments, practicing the entire route in my mind, over and over, the way an Olympic bobsledder might prior to his final run. Eventually, realizing that I had mustered all the confidence that I was ever going to, I signaled, pulled out and plunged into the night.
James' lone voice rang out in the darkness.
"Turn your fucking lights on!"
We here at the Basterd Files do not condone this sort of behaviour, but we do agree that it can be tremendously funny.
posted by Vyvyan Basterd at 6:48 PM
6 Comments:
at least you didn't get molested by groff that night.....
I think the night I got molestered by big fat groff was also the night I argued with striking UAW workers, after they told me that it sttod for "U Are Weird".
Then I got into a fight with a pair of jeans and passed out on my face.
But that's a story for another time, floks!
Or "folks", whichever.
"Stood", not "sttod", also. Christ, curse my fat fingers!
the good reverend claims to being "molested", but is it really molestation if you like it?
Forgive me, when I read "at least you didn't get molested by groff that night..." I didn't take it as "At least you were driving shitfaced for a noble cause while I stayed behind and got molested by a disgusting fat girl", but rather, "At least it wasn't as bad as the night you did, in fact, get molested by that hambeast, along with one of her disgusting hambeast friends, and Craig". An easy mistake to make considering what a VAGUE COMMENT THAT WAS.
Anyway, I digress. I think if the good reverend were to look in a dictionary, he would discover that "putting my weiner in her mouth while she is passed out" fits no definition of "being molested by".
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