The Drunk Life

The shops are amass with binders, book-bags, and signs covered in pictures of other people’s children. Back to school, BOGO, and mail-in rebate scams are everywhere. This can only mean one thing: It’s time to start planning for another year of Adderall, alcohol, and anonymous sex. Yay, College!

For a new year at school you’re going to need some new furniture, a beer-bong, and some posters. Without posters, how would you cover the holes you make in the walls? Or stop asbestos from falling off the shitty dorm ceiling onto you while you sleep? Start this semester off right by making sure your pad is perfectly pimped.

#10 - Teamwork Poster: If there’s one thing that you learn in college, it’s that friends is huge. Ten years down the line you won’t remember your classes, your exams, or anything you “learned.” What you’re going to remember is getting drunk with your friends. Maybe not all the specifics (that’s what photos and pizza stained clothing are for,) but that it generally happened and it was fun. There may be no I in drunk, but there is damn sure a U in it.

#9 - Hot Chicks Making Out: Want to know how I know you’re gay? Because you have a Coldplay poster above your bed. Let the girls know you have a pulse and a libido; get some T&A on your walls! Besides, after college it’s going to be considered creepy to have naked chicks all over your walls unless you’re a photographer or something… and photographers are the creepiest people on earth. And girls, nothing makes a guy want you more than the idea that you might be into girls too. Even if you’re not about to have a threesome, knowing you love Brooke Burke’s Ass as much as I do makes me feel more comfortable. Put up some hot chicks, your guy will like you better.

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Living home is like being in prison on Rockefeller drug charges. You have no freedom, tons of rules, and you probably didn’t even do shit wrong. Coming to college is like getting paroled and dropping a multi-million dollar rap album about the experience. All of a sudden you have independence, options, and choices. Life is good, but even Young Buck has to meet with his P.O. every once in a while. At least you get to meet with yours’ over turkey and yams.

Going home for Thanksgiving is a pivotal point in a person’s adult development. For most freshmen, it is the first time they will be forced to deal with their parents, face to face, since entering the wonderful world of college. Many of you may have a new tattoo, piercing, or random drunken injury to explain. Best of luck with that. You may be surprised to learn that your “totally un-cool” parents are actually aware that having a tongue ring means you’re a slut (and/or gay.) They may also be displeased if you’re Jewish, and can no longer be buried in a religious cemetery because you needed a tramp stamp on your lower back. Priorities.

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It’s getting to be that time of year again. The temperatures are high, the shirt-cuts a low, and I’m getting slapped in the face daily. Yay summer! Consequently, as Vivica A. Fox told us in Two Can Play That Game, the warm weather marks the beginning of break-up season. Everyone’s outside, half-naked, and looking to have a good time. Pair that with the school year ending, people leaving their college bf/gf to return to their home bf/gf (who hopefully never checks your facebook pics,) and the general notion that summer lovin’ will have you a blast. What’s the result? Goodbye commitment, hello strange summer ass.

This transition brings up the important issue of break-up etiquette. When parting ways with a loved one, the ideal situation is to remain friends, keep in touch, and wish one another well. The real situation is burning remains, touching their friends, and wishing one another would go to hell. How can we avoid the immature high-school bullshit, and seamlessly transition from one partner to another?

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“You know what the best part of falling in love is? It’s the Oral Sex.” ~Mark Hoppus.

Anyone who has ever been in love knows this to be true. Being in a relationship with someone allows you to learn the intricacies of each other’s bodies, and cater your techniques to please each other in ways you never thought possible. Another reason relationship-oral is better is because you don’t have to use protection. Getting head with a condom on would be like trying to read this column with your eyes closed.

Now it may seem irresponsible to promote unprotected sexual activity, but the reality is that people rarely use condoms for oral sex. In a relationship, people generally know their lover’s history. If you’re both clean, she’s on the pill, and neither of you are Republican; you don’t need condoms. This being the case, it’s important to make sure your partner stays faithful. Frequent, well-performed oral sex is a good way to keep someone satisfied. You can also drop subtle hints like: “When my last boyfriend cheated on me I went down on him and used my teeth,” or “When my last girlfriend cheated on me I napalmed her cat.”

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The following is some advice about how Steak & Blowjob Day will effect relationships and society. I wrote it as an add-on to the original S&BJ article for Points In Case. Enjoy!

Spending the holidays with someone makes him or her feel like part of your family. Whether you’re passing the gravy bowl at Thanksgiving or the buddah bowl on 420, sharing a holiday brings people together. The existence and observance of both Valentine’s Day and Steak & Blowjob Day are essential to the equilibrium of the modern social scene.

There is a longstanding mantra about the nature of dating: “Girls fake orgasms, guys fake relationships.” As awesome of a t-shirt slogan as that is, it’s not the ideal situation that anyone would like to be in. Women need Valentine’s Day to evaluate their partners. Any tool can buy a Christmas present, and put a reminder in their PDA for a birthday and anniversary. Women need a real test, that’s why they made Valentine’s Day.

Men have to show that they love their women, not with one present, one meal, or one bouquet of flowers; but with a culmination of all the cliché crap they’ve learned from years of being subjected to “romantic comedies.” It’s very hard to pull off the perfect timing of dim lighting, chauffeured driving and muff diving without some hint of true feelings. Women know this, and they expect to be swept off their feet on this annual occasion.

Now if men are going to play into this fairy tail, it’s only fair that they get some tail in return. Men may be known for faking feelings, but so are women. Men have submitted to woman’s relationship sincerity trials for centuries, now it’s time to turn the table (or get under it) and partake in man’s perennial sexual performance test. It’s pretty hard for men to analyze the forthrightness of the female orgasm due to a mix or arrogance, alcohol and apathy. Therefore, men analyze sexual realness from the only perspective that matters, the penile one. Aside from that, we expect some dinner. It has long been stated that the way to a man’s heart is through his penis and his stomach.

Valentine’s Day requires men to show their ladies that they are creative, compassionate, and caring. In order to keep making memories, women need to be reminded that their partners are marriage material. Steak & Blowjob Day is an opportunity for women to show their men that they are sultry and seductive sword-swallowers, the caliber whose culinary creations rival their cum cravings. In order for men to keep going through the motions, they need decadent fillet and deep fellatio.

As many of you might know, March 14th is officially Steak & Blowjob day. For those of you unfamiliar with the holiday, check out the article I wrote last year. This is basically how it works: the girl who a man spent Valentines Day with cooks him a steak and gives him a blowjob. The steak should be cooked to his preference, but the blowjob must be well done. Under no circumstance may anyone receive a card.

Now guys, if you spent Valentines Day in any other fashion than your face engulfed in vagina, our beloved holiday might be a tough sell to your companion. Many women have developed irrational views related toward oral sex, such as “blowjobs are degrading,” “I don’t enjoy receiving oral sex,” and “Let’s take our power back, starting with the word “cunt!”” These views are the fault of man. If we ate more pussy, and did a better job of it, then women wouldn’t have misconceived notions about oral sex. Any girl who thinks she doesn’t enjoy oral has never been with a cunning linguistic expert such as myself.

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Valentine’s Day has come and gone, and for those of you who participated in the festivities, it is my hope that you also came, and promptly left. Sadly, hope is often not enough. I’m sure there are a fair number of guys out there who poured their hearts into Valentine’s Day, searched through every boy-band song, poem, and movie available for that one, perfectly cheesy line. These are the people who were talking to their girlfriend’s friends, looking for the perfect gift, perusing jewelry stores and florists, making scrapbooks and buying puppies. However, after all this hard work is done, these poor shmucks are often lucky to be left with enough energy to rub one out to lime-wired porn. Many are left down and out, with light wallets and heavy balls. You might be asking, how can we fix this problem? The answer is simple, by celebrating man’s counter-holiday, Steak & Blowjob Day.

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Hangovers are like nature’s balancing act. They help maintain a state of equilibrium and fairness. A hangover is like hooking up with someone’s girlfriend and getting your ass kicked, you wake up feeling like shit, but you’d do it all over again. The television we watch when we’re hung-over varies drastically from out traditional programming choices. Presently, my favorite shows are CSI, Entourage, and Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader: Making the Team. I like CSI because after I watch an episode I feel like I want to be a detective. I dart around with my fingers in the shape of a pistol and pretend I’m foiling my cat’s attempts to take over the apartment. I’m still not sure what he’s planning, but I know it involves scratching chairs, killing moths, and tossing his own salad.

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“Hey 57! I used to fuck guys like you in prison.” Far and away the most creative sentiment I’ve ever heard addressed to a basketball player as he tenses up for a foul shot. Being a fan means nothing. Being a superfan is everything. With both the ASP’s Saturday deadline and the UAlbany v. Siena basketball game fast approaching, I am stumbling a fine line between writing and pre-gaming. As I scramble to finish this article, I find myself getting purple and gold face paint all over my keyboard.

New paragraphs aren’t started because of new ideas; they’re started because I just got back from shot-gunning a brewskie in my kitchen. Sports are about one thing and one thing only. Winning. “I play for fun.” Pussy. “I like staying in shape.” May I suggest light beer? Winning is winning, and coming in second is just another way of saying “fucking loser.” When you’re a superfan, you’re on the team. When the team wins, you win; go out and celebrate by getting shithoused. When the team loses, you lose; drown your sorrows by going out and getting shithoused. Superfans are often shithoused.

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