Big Brother Night (Confidential) (812 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.73 on 17 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by AsshOly (View user info) at 2007-02-24 18:43:18 EST
I'm not supposed to tell you any of this, but as long as I kill you after you're finished reading, it's alright. So, if you could just please leave your name and mailing address along with your review, I'll send you a quick letterbomb, and all will be well in the world once again.
To put this story into perspective, right now it is 2:30 pm and I'm still slightly drunk as I sit down to write this.
I just transferred to Illinois State University, and the first thing I did this semester was seek out fraternities. I'm pledging one right now. Honestly, I have never thought of myself as a frat guy, and I think the idea of paying to have friends makes as much sense as blowing a load in your soup before you eat it. I'm not a huge drinker, I'm not a sex fiend, and I think the stereotypical fraternity guy is an asshole, but I'm having a great time with this so far.
A few weekends ago was Bid Night, and we had a keg race. That was fun. It was my pledge class (7 guys) against the rest of the house (44 guys). I had about 20 cups in two hours, and had a significant number of shots interspersed. I got trashed.
Last weekend I turned 21. That night was only interesting in that I got wasted with some friends at a bar and then passed out in my friend's sink. That was a blast.
Both times, I was more drunk than I had ever before been in my life. Both times, I was dead to the world until the next evening. Both times, I swore I would never drink that much again.
I was wrong. I'm not making that promise anymore.
Last night was Big Brother Night in the house. Basically, they give us a shit-ton of alcohol and then tell us which guy in the house will be our lifeline whenever we get into trouble, and who will also kick our asses once we get out of trouble.
They spent the morning tracking 8 different colors of string all around the house and yard and tying varieties of alcohol and instructions to every rope. There was a veritable slew of alcohol hanging in the air, suspended by rope all around the house, and moving around inside was a nightmare.
We were to follow our assigned strings all around the house, drink whatever we came across, follow any and all instructions, and at the end of the string would be waiting our Big Brother. Before we could move on in our journey, we had to finish the alcohol we were holding. We could double fist if necessary. But, if somebody walked up to us with a beer bong, we had to bong EVERYTHING we were holding, plus the beer they brought over.
Listening to the instructions, I decided that showing up on an empty stomach was not such a good idea.
7:00 pm - I started my string at the table in the living room, and followed it outside. I found a bottle of Boone's Farm Apple in the grill in the back yard. I sit down and chill with my pledge brother, who started off with a Boone's Farm Watermelon. We kill half our bottles before going following our strings back inside.
I follow my string to the top floor and sit down with an Active and a bottle of Bud Light. Out in the hallway, another of my pledge brothers is complaining that he cant take shots through the Richard Simmons mask he's been told to wear. The guy with him tells him to figure out a way. He is already visibly wasted. I crack up laughing and finish the beer.
My string takes me back downstairs and I confront absolutely the worst moment of my life: a Heineken keg can. (Now, I know most of you fools love Heineken, but that shit really is the most god-awful libation on the planet. If you want me to puke, you give me Heineken.) I begin complaining and attract a crowd. I ask the mob for something—anything—else. The mob answers back, "chug, chug, chug, you pussy bitch." So I do. I get through half the can before I start gagging. They tell me to keep going on my string, since it takes me into the kitchen anyway, and I can use the sink if I have to.
The string goes up into a closed cabinet. For shits and giggles, I look to see what I'm drinking next: Two more bottles of Bud Light. Fuck.
I sip on the Heineken and chase it with wine. I resume complaining, and again attract a crowd. The crowd decides I'm drinking a little bit too slowly, so they pull a bottle of syrup out of the refrigerator and pour no less than four shots of Smirnoff into it and shake it up, and hand it to me.
"Drink up."
That syrup was a lot fucking better than the Heineken. When they decided I'd had enough of it, they pulled a cup of tapioca pudding out of the fridge and poured more Smirnoff into it. I cried a little bit on the inside, but one of my pledge brothers walked through the kitchen right then and they handed it to him. He gets through four spoonfuls before he realizes it's not just pudding, and finishes the cup happily.
At this point I'm done with one of the Buds, halfway done with the other, and I'm done with the wine, and still agonizing over the other half of the Heineken. I've also run into another problem: I have no more room. Everybody else is getting shots, and I'm stuck with a harem of beer. If I could just get a little hard liquor, this would be a whole lot easier. It's still so early that I can't yet piss, and unless I throw up I can't fit anything else into my belly. I take a few swigs of the Heineken and try to coax it out. One of the actives sees this and pours the rest of the can down the drain out of sympathy. I grab his hand and recite a prayer, asking the Lord to reward him for his kindness.
I follow the string down into the basement, and meet my next foe: a tall can of King Cobra. I ascertain that this is complete bullshit. I pop the top and take down as much of it as I can, and it comes straight back up.
When I was eight years old I won a regional Punt, Pass, & Kick competition. I was, for a day, the best eight-year-old football player in the Chicagoland area. Until last night, that was the crowning achievement of my life. When people ask me whatever have I done in my life, I tell them that. But, I have trumped myself. Last night I projectile vomited directly into a trash can six feet away from me. Fucking nailed it. It was a beautiful thing, the kind which they write about in history books.
I bask in the glory of the moment until the second wave splatters all over the floor. One of my pledge brothers walks down the stairs wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and laughs at me. The glory is gone. I finish the King Cobra, smoke a cigarette, and move on.
When I get back upstairs, my string leads me underneath the table in the common room, where there is hidden a bottle of Jager. I celebrate and walk back into the kitchen. I stretch out and do some calisthenics before opening the bottle up and chugging all of it. I turn around and my Big Brother hands me a shot of Cuervo, a shot of Goldschlager, a pledge shirt, and hugs me and tells me I went above and beyond, and once I finish the shots I'm done.
I pocket the Goldschlager and pour the Cuervo into the bottle of syrup that just got thrust into my hands. I suck down the rest of the syrup and vomit again in the sink.
I walk into the common room and pass out on the couch.
When I wake up, there are people over and we are having an actual party. I walk up to the most attractive girl I can immediately find and ask her if she and her friends would like to go downstairs and play beer pong. They accept.
The keg in the basement is empty. I look around for a suitable replacement and come across a cooler of warm jungle juice (Everclear) we made for a sorority exchange the night before and fill everybody's cups up.
When we start playing, I'm nailing everything. I hit my first three shots, but by my fourth shot, my attention began wandering, mostly towards my teammate, whose cleavage was killing me.
After a few great shots by the other team, I was making very little damage with my shooting, and needed an alternative. One of my pledge brothers decides that I need to use a backboard, and that I should bounce my next shot off my opponent's rack. I think this is an outstanding idea, and I whip the ball at her. My friend and I begin laughing maniacally. We could not, for our lives, understand why everybody else was so upset.
That was my last clear memory of the night.
User Reviews
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-03-01 23:25:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
HAHA!
Thought I would check in. As I was reading this my liver quivered a little.
"Last night I projectile vomited directly into a trash can six feet away from me. Fucking nailed it."
...awesome.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-02-26 15:56:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 for collegiate hijinx
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2007-02-25 22:36:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
strangely interesting
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2007-02-25 13:43:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Well-written.
Drinking like that will kill people.
Don't do it. Don't kill yourself.
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2007-02-25 13:22:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
awesome.
Drinking until you are sick is very good.
Submitted by Dexter-Brown (user info) at 2007-02-25 11:27:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It's all fun and games til somebody gets their stomach pumped
Submitted by InkyFingers (user info) at 2007-02-25 09:39:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Yes, this was fun, not quite my kinda funny, but fun. Glad yto see you post it.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2007-02-25 01:37:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
ok.
First off...GO PENN STATE.
You gotta learn the fine art of pouring a little out when nobody is looking. I had achieved legendary status because I would be able to say "I gotta piss" in the middle of a chug. Piss. Pour half that bitch out. Go back to the party.
What's up with the Bud Light? In my day, it was Natty Light, or Beast Light....which is probably better.
Submitted by Timmaaaaah (user info) at 2007-02-25 00:08:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Light beer............o realllllllllllly
Submitted by GnarlsBarkley (user info) at 2007-02-24 23:46:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
AUTO +2, Bue light. The one and only.
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2007-02-24 23:32:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Shlongy, I think it's fair to assume that I already knew that.
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2007-02-24 22:16:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
wow.
I haven't found a sorority that I want to join. I have, however, found plenty of fraternities I'd fit into nicely. Blah.
Submitted by Tony_the_Tiger_is_a_Pedophile (user info) at 2007-02-24 21:43:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
way to go, you're an idiot.
back to punt pass and kick, drinking BAD!
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-02-24 21:02:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Frats are gay but I won't minus you because at least you're going to school.
BTW, Illinois State is NOT in the Big 10.
Submitted by shitfuck (user info) at 2007-02-24 20:56:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Homer: You can let him down gently, but over the next couple of
months, I want you to break it off.
Marge: Um, okay, Homer.
Homer: That was a close one, kids, now go grab my crack pipe and fuck yourself with it.
Another Simpsons Clip Show
Submitted by lechuza (user info) at 2007-02-24 19:25:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Now, son, you don't want to drink beer. That's for daddys, and kids with
fake IDs.
-- Homer Simpson
The Springfield Files
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2007-02-24 18:50:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Son, when you participate in sporting events, it's not whether you win
or lose: it's how drunk you get.
-- Homer Simpson
Bart Gets An Elephant