80s Madness

Stupid Drunken Things Not To Do

This will be a continuing series as I dig them up. None of these are about me or anyone I know. Add your own (no personally identifiable info, though). Do not under any circumstances attempt to duplicate these or you will die or go to prison (which will just make you pray for death). Or else you will survive and not get caught, in which case get your own %$#^$^%$# website.

  • On the way home from the frat, total your Schwinn 10-speed by rear-ending a parked Chevy truck. At night. Use no lights on the bike. Obviously, the truck will come out of nowhere. You may think your right arm has been broken on the tailgate during your flight into the bed of the truck, but it will just hurt like hell for a week, as sort of a moron trophy.
1971 Dodge Monaco wagon

the power wagon

  • Break the suspension of the family wagon by nailing a curb on your DUI home from Dooley’s. Tell Dad about the dog you were trying to avoid, but not about the whiskey shooters…
1976 Mercury Marquis

Red Dead Redemption

  • Race your Phi Sigma Kappa brothers to park at Bilbo’s at night, in a wet parking lot with mounds of snow, on your way to get drunk. Be sane and catch a ride home. Find a giant oil slick around your car the next morning. It isn’t from some evil bastard like that  construction guy over there working who sabotaged your car because you parked in his spot. It is from YOUR POS car, you pinhead. That big bump and crashing sound last night was the oil pan of your Marquis imploding when you nailed that snow pile – there was a curb under there, nimrod. Luckily, your car will be worth $50 at the scrapyard. If this is 1986 or so, you can buy five 30-packs of Stroh’s (Shorts Reeb) with your cash (or 4 and a carton of Player Menthols). That will should get you through to the weekend Tuesday.
  • Steal joints (big fat ones like Camel Wides) from Russell, who is a friend of your friend Pod. It helps if you black out during the part where Russell sees the marijuana bulge in your shirt pocket and holds you upside down from his 3rd floor balcony until you give up his stash. Worse things happen later, since you cannot balance your beer buzz with the unavoidable contact buzz. Try not to think about it.
  • Walk home for the frat, stupid drunk in a snow storm, about two blocks down from where you rear-ended that parked truck (you nimrod). Walk in the street because its 2 am and the plows have been by, but the sidewalks are covered. But wait, there’s an oncoming car. Better get on the sidewalk to your left. Unfortunately, you need to make a farmer turn (swing right to turn left). This is while you are walking, remember.  If you’re lucky, that oncoming car (which is a cop car) will stop and give you a ride. If you’re smart enough to not pick a fight with the officer (which is really tough when he is asking dumb questions, and your intelligence, strength, and wit have been dramatically magnified by intensive beer therapy), he’ll give you a ride home, instead of to jail for walking under the influence.
  • Drink a 6 pack of Nordic Wolf Light while your pal Phid drinks a 6 pack of some other swill, in Pod and Dribble’s driveway (they aren’t even home). Ride Phid’s Suzuki 650 motorcycle for the first time AFTER drinking all the beer. Don’t worry that this bike is twice the size of yours. Or that a big time buzz has already overtaken you. You are too powerful to crash.
  • Then, if surviving that ride around the block was too boring, both of you should drive to some girl’s house in the poor part of town where the minority population is concentrated. Hmm, hot single girl, all isolated and lonely. Sounds fun, and if life were like Penthouse forum, you would at least get a blow job out of it (or some more beers as a bribe to go away for a few minutes). But, life is nothinglike Penthouse forum (especially once you’re married.) After watching your friend hit on this girl (maybe he’s just chatting her up, but old habitsdie hard, and you’re too buzzed to bother to listen) and since this meeting did not have a porno outcome, take off again.
    Douglas Ave police station

    Whose bright idea was it to put cops at the fire station?

    Now that your cerebellum pickling is in turbo mode, ride harder and faster. This is where you, as an inexperienced rider, should take on the thrill of intersection gravel, while turning left in front of a police station. This is especially cool if you start sliding on the gravel. Don’t crash, though, because it will ruin your beer enhanced invulnerability for chapter 2.

More to follow…

Profile photo of Raoul Duke

Raoul Duke

When I came to, the general back-alley ambiance of the suite was so rotten, so incredibly foul. How long had I been lying there? All these signs of violence. What had happened? There was evidence in this room of excessive consumption of almost every type of drug known to civilized man since 1544 AD. What kind of addict would need all these coconut husks and crushed honeydew rinds? Would the presence of junkies account for all these uneaten french fries? These puddles of glazed ketchup on the bureau? Maybe so. But then why all this booze? And these crude pornographic photos smeared with mustard that had dried to a hard yellow crust? These were not the hoofprints of your average God-fearing junkie. It was too savage. Too aggressive. 

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  12 comments for “80s Madness

  1. 8 Barrel
    April 19, 2004 at 6:25 pm

    Good thing these don’t involve anyone you know. I’d be really embarrassed to either be that stupid, or know someone who is. I wonder what else the fertile imagination of MP can come up with.
    Hmmmmm……..

  2. icetower
    March 24, 2008 at 3:56 pm

    I drank Stroh’s once.

    I bowled in a bowling league in Calumet City Ill. I stopped at the bar, since the barmaid was very busy with 2 leagues in a 40 plus lane bowling alley. I saw some guy just walk off with a bottle of this. I tried it, Yuck only one notch above Bud. Later I went to use the bathroom, there above the urinal was a sign that said “Flush twice please, its a long ways to the Stroh’s brewery.”

    True words indeed.

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  5. truetobacco
    March 18, 2014 at 7:06 pm

    When I was a teenager I lived in the mountains, and I’d like to pass between two semis going down a big hill. I could usually pass them. The rush of being between the two huge wheels really got me.

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