We're the ones your mother warned your about...No, seriously. We are.

DrunkBoy Sam - What happens when he can suddenly obtain underage beer.

College is an interesting place. Itís a bastion of learning, thereís no question about that. However, letís all be honest with each other, right up front: The two primary things that get learned at college are Introduction to Alcoholism and Sex 101.

Since Iím pretty sure Robynís covering the latter, I might as well handle the former.

Alcohol: the solution to, and cause of, all of lifeís problems. Yes, I stole that line from the Simpsons. One of the many great things about being drunk is that you can do things like that and just not care.

Many people underestimate the wondrousness of that simple fact. Alcohol allows you to act like an idiot and not mind. Just stop and think about that for a moment. Remember how much fun you had when you were four? Well, imagine a substance that allows you to kick your brain's ass until you're once again thinking like a four year old. Wouldn't that be the best, most precious substance ever to grace the Earth?

I thought so.

Allow me to share an anecdote. Follow me backward into the mists of time, all the way back to last year.

Itís my second year of college. Iíve made a few friends, but they arenít particularly close friends. More acquaintances than anything else. However, one weekend they have a spare ticket to a football game and invite me along. I was free, and happy to kill some time, so I went.

At this point I should probably explain something about myself. I am not a sports fan in the traditional sense of the world. I donít usually watch sports on TV. I can happily go through my life without attending sporting events. However. On those occasions when I do attend a football game, I am transformed. Some primal, chest-beating part of my primitive hindbrain activates, and I become the lunatic in the stands screaming obscenities at the ref.

I think at this particular game, my crowning moment was when I suggested, in slightly indelicate terminology and at the top of my lungs, that perhaps the officials would be better off if they were to cease having anal sex with the visiting teamís coach until after the game was over.

After everybody was done staring at me, Iíd apparently impressed my pals enough to be upgraded a few notches in the College Guy Hierarchy, and I began to get invited to parties. Later that very weekend, we all headed out for a night of wine, women, and song.

Well, alright, not wine, so much as many many pints of beer. And no women. Not for me, at least. But thatís just all the more reason to drink all that not-wine, and once youíve had enough of that, song is bound to show up, much to the chagrin of everyone nearby.

I donít actually remember much of that weekend. I have it on reasonably good authority that a good time was had by all. And somehow, though nobody remembers exactly why, I wound up with the nickname Sammy the Legend. Which is certainly better than the nickname I had in High School (Dumbass).

Alcohol: Single-handedly responsible for the best nickname ever.

My views on alcohol in mind, the fine proprietress of this site has convinced me, against what little better judgment I have, to sit down at my computer on those occasions when Iím very drunk and stumble back into my room. I will share with you all the genius insights available only to the apocalyptically inebriated.

... Well, actually, Iíll probably just make an ass of myself. But then, thatís rather the point of this site, isnít it?

~ January, 2003

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  • Single-Man Beer Pong
  • ~ Sam's Archives