30 Some-Odd Reasons to Drink

As a burgeoning Drunk, and one that is safely proud of it, I am often afflicted by the questioning looks and disapproving noises of those who cannot seem to grasp the concept of why one would consume alcohol. It is these very people, however, who have inspired the creation of a comprehensive study behind the reasons as to why those of us who do enjoy drinking drink. The following research was compiled with the aid of several friends one evening, who had agreed to keep me company while I took on the task of creating the report. While the original point of the study may have been to mark a new idea with each drink downed, for the sake of scientific accuracy, I will admit that the aforementioned format was not followed and that, rather, whatever came to mind followed to paper (otherwise known as “Word”).


Notice first the coherent sentences which, although they may offer an unfortunate peek into the insightful nature of our conversations, are at least spelt correctly.
1. Fuck Brain Cells
2. Achieving your grey wings; or chicken wings, whatever floats your boat.
3. Everybody’s down for a little vag. tonight
4. For the darkness!
5. Evenings of debauchery that begin with the Captain and end in the wrong end of town
6. Making friends with the homeless men who hide your alcohol and never getting it back
7. Being that “regular” at most bar’s cheapest nights.

While spelling and coherency are still intact, it is the punctuation of my erratic, repeated and all around unintelligent ideas that is no longer a necessity, but instead, a suggestion.
8. Everybody’s down for a little vag tonight!
9. Discovering the next morning that youre 200$ short of what you thought you had started with
10. Uncovering the fact that being very “uncovered” and sprawled on the floor is actually a lot more entertaining than youre parents had told you it would be

And finally, the very first admission of superiority!
11. Improvement of the awesomeness as the evening evolves
12. Being cheap and/or wishing you were so as to help your wallet somewhat
13. Waking up the next morning in the ER and wondering why youre parents look right pissed at you… in that “wrong life choices” sort of way
14. Enjoying your evening to the nth degree… the degree which means that your brain cells are much less developed than youre collegues

Here, the switch to believing that I am the center of the known universe is completed as, despite having admitted to conceit previously, sentences are no longer written in a contemplative “one” or “you” format but as the royal “we”- generally referring to myself. The very first signs of the slow and painful death of lucidity are also now visible.
15. Wondering if we can still get to the liquor store at two oclock in the morning
16. The consistently failed attempts at counting our number drinks
17. The realization that we have no idea what our limits are as we continue to hit the short (“shorts”/ “shots”; same thing.)
18. Realizing that pants are for suckers!
19. For achieving that classic drunk statement of “I like you guys”
20. Discovering that sexual limitations are truly only guidelines and that, in all honesty, everything goes
21. realizing that as a student, we spend much more money on alcohol than on necessities and that its well worth the expenditure
22. Understanding that work is one of those places where you deal with your hangovers

Not only are spelling and rational now a thing of the past, but any sort of decency as well; especially pertaining to very deep and complex philosophical issues.
23. Discovering that we h=are awesome!
24. Understaiding that sex s one of those things that comes with the title of being a “drunk”
25. Realizing, that as a creative writer, I have liscence to misspell EVERYTHBING
26. Drinking with natives leads to some exam FAILURE
27. Literally capturing an evening in a description of what happens when one sets out to describe an evening of drnkeness
28. Never mind trying to understand how retarded [people see the world, we know
29. Realizing that youre not quite an alcoholic, but rather a drunk, vas they are two truly spereate states of being (clearly, my attempt at vaguely intellectual vocabulary is a failure)
30. Coming to theconclusion that every and all activities are much, much more entertaining when a large amount of alcohol is involved
31. You aspire to reducing your station in life
32. cheers to fucking anything\
33. so long as somebody is retarded about me being ridiculous, than I am having fun
34. being drun k means you wale up and don’t understand a thing about the logistical discussions you had the night before
35. discoerving that your parents afre Pying more than thy dhsould for your eduion nd ger ersl drunkening
36. e

The above was not only an exposé of the very best reasons to drink, but an exercise in self-restraint; allowing so many glaring faults and short comings to remain in written material (particularly in that penned by yours truly) was quite trying. However, for the sake of science and the distribution of important research, I have stepped up and fulfilled my obligations to my peers. Cheers.

Seeking UnEmployment

The last couple of weeks or so had introduced me to a much-needed brilliant new story idea (although, admittedly, all of my ideas are brilliant) as I have found that, despite my best wishes, a steady alcoholic intake does not lead to the creativity many of the artistic type claim it does. Instead, it resulted in many unfortunately incomprehensible letters to faraway friends whom hadn’t been witness to a sober me in several months. So instead, between the sober banalities of the daily grind and an unwillingness to spot for my brothers developing muscles (of which, I would like to mention, I hold no jealousy- mine are much firmer anyway), I came to the exciting conclusion that I could detail my life as a waitress lifting plates. Just the sort of pun that I knew would beautifully grace the top of yet another one of my notes.

Unfortunately, I got the boot- and it was a solidly placed one at that. Obviously, I had yet to learn that opinions or basic disagreements with the unjust should not be expressed around women who get paid more than I do. Subsequently, I not only found myself lacking an income, but a solid story idea; after all, I could never lower myself to writing half-truths and invented facts… not without journalism course papers to fuel the need, at the very least.

Being unintentionally unemployed, I took it upon myself to sleep away the better part of the day, wallow in piles of chocolate bar wrappings and aspire to the drama achieved by the woman who had been knocked up by her boyfriend’s brother on Jerry Springer. I found myself near wishing to have been born into a trailer park so that I too could live the dream; fifteen minutes of fame would undoubtedly be much more satisfying on Maury than they ever would be on Oprah (either way, I don’t believe her viewers would be quite as appreciative of my promiscuity). Besides, my target audience would surely benefit from the numerous advertisements played during the aforementioned show to get them off of their respective asses and into colleges for continuing education. Which, as each highly unproductive day passes (unless, as some women might, you include tanning and baking on your list of daily activities), has become an increasingly attractive option. Perhaps it’s time I accepted that my lack of class is not only a thing to write about, but something to truly embrace. All I need now is to figure out where to pick up my employment insurance cheques.

Growing Down

The worst part, decidedly, about having reached adulthood and apparent “responsibility” is the sudden onslaught of a need to discuss the future. Girl’s nights have become the perfect place to discuss our potential weddings, hours on the job have become those devoted to forecasting my financial prospects, and even conversations with parents (despite how short lived they may be) now revolve around “plans, “hopes” and other sorts of horrifying concepts that really do not belong in the vocabulary of anyone under the age of twenty-five and, particularly, anyone with the mental maturity of a thirteen-year-old. It would have been nice had someone informed me that along with finally obtaining legality (in the larger part of the civilized world; alcohol-phobic states and provinces notwithstanding) that I would be handed a list of obligations and responsibilities. Fantastic.

At an age where my liver is still (relatively) healthy and un-abused, my skin still untarnished by the effects of tobacco and my cognitive skills yet unhindered by a steady intake of THC, I am in a prime state to ruin everything I have going for me. My future successes are something to consider when I can no longer keep up with my own capabilities to process alcohol. After all, planning is evidently not something I find myself able to do in the midst of a thoroughly enjoyable evening; otherwise, I would not find myself in need of being picked up from the hospital at two in the morning. At the very least, I have friends appreciative enough of my inability to function properly to be my “sensible” side for me.

Perhaps, however, I should concede to my acute aversion to any sort of commitment. After settling in with my girls the other night to fawn over a far-fetched love story and hearing afterwards that one of them had already discussed basic marriage plans with her current boyfriend, I came down with a small and sudden panic attack, much to the horror of the three of them; apparently, that was not the expected reaction. It should appear that other people enjoy preparing themselves to be committed to some sort of future, whether it be family or career oriented (as opposed to rehab). I, however, am very content committing to not having the slightest idea what I will be doing within the next hour. It is, after all, my prerogative to be a complete mess.

At my tender age, I have decided that my aspirations will take me no further than the next drink nor will my common sense serve to keep me out of trouble, simply alive. And although many of my peers may deny it, I will readily admit that the little voice at the back of my head is currently not occupied with influencing me in the right direction, but rather telling me that I am quite invincible (and thus far, the evidence has proven the voice consistently right). Who the fuck ever decided it was a good idea to make university students accountable for their own actions anyway?