Oh my god, it will never end…

Stupid Drunken Things Not To Do

Many of these are currently considered illegal, and they are all fictional or my name isn’t Dick R. Brettman.

“Alcohol, the cause of and solution to all of life’s problems” – H. Simpson

I. Drive el Festiva loco to 8 Barrel and Easy E’s pad for a fix-up party for Mrs. Camaro’s girlfriend Shelly. You were always hot for Shelly because, well, she was the only one left and maybe she was finally desperate enough. However, Shelly proved at 8 & E’s wedding that she would rather puke ON you than sleep WITH you.

The other 1/2 of the fixer upper  equation is that coworker of 8 Barrel who is thin, very neat and single (so this may be a pointless exercise).

Drink WAAY too much and leave sometime after dark. Back at the girlfriend’s apartment, your beer-fueled “boinkathon” will be interrupted by an untimely call from Mom. The police have called her, because they found your car in a rather awkward spot, noticed it has been involved in an accident, and they are somewhat curious as to why you are not around.

The police suspect alcohol was a factor.

Oh, yeah, important missing detail. You WALKED back to the apartment. Some drunken idiot from the bar down the street must have gotten loaded and totaled your parked car while you were miles away, and then drove off.

Dodge Diplomat police
“You know parking on the street is illegal”

When you finally meet with the cops, make a bunch of idiotic threats against this unknown pinhead. Cops love that. Especially when you start quoting Hanover Fiste from Heavy Metal. To make the experience complete…

Cop:  You know you’re not supposed to park in the street?
Me:  I know I am not supposed to hit and run parked cars.
Me:  I know I am not supposed to DUI (including moving a parked car from the street to a driveway).


State Farm Insurance Adjuster:  You know you’re not supposed to park in the street?
Me:  I know I am not supposed to hit and run parked cars.
Me:  I know I am not supposed to DUI (including moving a parked car from the street to ta driveway).
Me:  What the fuck is wrong with you people?
State Farm Insurance Adjuster:  Your car is completely fucked.  Here is 80% of what you owe.  Fuck you very much and have a nice day!

P.S. Walking several miles to the apartment in the middle of the night through the poor/industrial part of town while drunk is really freaking stupid. Strangely, it will not seem so bad at the time.

II. Trek to  Camp T. Ben Johnston on a Friday night. Assistant Scoutmaster Darrell *Michael Jackson* Shithead, the future protective custody inmate you know won’t bring the young guys until tomorrow.


Stop at Shifty Takers with some 21+ y.o. former scout you just met and buy one of everything in the liquor department. Watch in detached amusement as the SOF novices repeat the drinking mistakes you have already made (like consuming too goddamned much), or are doomed to make (like tempting and spiting SoCo, the angry god of pain and hangovers). Daquiris? Schnapps?  You’ll learn, young padawans.

Drive to a golf course so Fenwick can go scuba the water hazards for golf balls. Your friend Jeff can marvel at someone like Phid’s driving skill (and never live it down). But don’t fuck with him, because he knows karate. He now knows daiquiris better than he ever wanted.

If you’re Phid, you should, at some later point, drink a pint of Black Velvet then go hike in the woods. In the middle of the night. Without a map. We’ll come looking for you!  Honest!

As a courtesy to those who are likely to be praying for death when they wake up, bring a French horn so you can scare the newbies with the sounds of escaped, rampaging circus elephants. The victims of vodka, SoCo, schnapps and pre-mixed daquiris will thank you. Or kill you, depending on how close you stand.

1979 Dodge Aspen police
“And just what are you boys up to tonight?”

III. While out with friends, go to a Stop-n-Rob (any convenience store will do). If you are ready early, hop in the Furymobile and park behind the car wash next door. When your friends come out, they will think they were abandoned. Blast the brights and tear over to them, where they will jump in quickly, thinking you are a psycho who will strand them if they don’t dive in through the windows. They are exactly correct.

Speed off in a hail of gravel and tire smoke.

Pull over immediately, 100 yards later, for that cop who materialized on your rear bumper 3 seconds after this retarded stunt. Have Pod or somebody hide the quarts of Miller between his pant legs, while you explain to the cop why you are all just sober teenage idiots playing around, and that, no, you did not just rob that store (because all of this is true, for once).

IV. Remember that store because they are lax about carding people. Be an idiot by trying to buy when the manager is there.

V.  Go to a different store in the same chain, near the college. When you’re carded, show your *I’m only 18* license. The clerk is having a bad night and will sell to you anyway.

VI. Try to buy beer at the drive through liquor store when you’re still way underage. The clerk is not carding, so get everybody a buzz unit (a quart of Miller). Leave and go to Burger King, where you will quickly realize that one buzz unit was simply not enough. Go back to the store, but now the manager has now shown up.

Two lessons:

  1. buy everything you need the first time you get away with it; and
  2. *you just sold to us 30 minutes ago* is never a persuasive argument to make to a guy who’s about to get his ass fired for doing it.

VII. Be an unnamed couple of friends who go to Bilbos for beers. At some point, be in the restroom at the same time that one of the partitions between the urinals becomes detached from the wall. Explain to the manager and the cops he called how there was a strange disturbance in the Force, or a Taco John’s seismic gas event that must have caused the situation.

Good luck with that.

Remember what a good idea it seemed to be at the time when, years later, you have to disclose and explain all arrests, interrogations and investigations ever conducted by the police.

VIII. Go watch an intramural soccer game at 10:00 at night. See if you, inspired by the legendary exploits at Bilbo’s, possess the brute strength mind control powers necessary to yank mentally dislodge a urinal partition from the wall, replicating the still-unexplained event described above. Curiously enough, you are strong David Blaine enough.

Learning from the example of your less experienced reprobate friends, resist the urge to smuggle it out of the building and *hide* it in a stall instead.

Walk away.

IX. *Borrow* fire extinguishers (the refillable water kind) from a reliable source for those sorts of things. Perhaps some building across from a park where people smoke (or in your case, occasionally drink) their lunches. Pump these devices up to 150 PSI (from the recommended 20): 5 gallons spewed in 5 seconds. (Maybe less.) You know what to do with this +20 dork damage weapon, just like you know what to do when you see a puddle and a pedestrian nearby. If water gets too boring, throw a little buttermilk in there. Or Tang.

Important notes:

  1. buttermilk will stain hoods and dashboards forever;
  2. green trucks that follow you from the repository of replacement extinguishers following an acquisition may just be a coincidence.
  3. Buick Skylarks that race up behind you right after a *mission* at Rollerworld ARE following you, and for good reason, since it is like 30 degrees out. Relax, he will lose his nerve.
  4. So will some clown that eavesdrops on your CB conversations about him over by Pod and Dribble’s house.

If a university service officer catches you reloading your active terrorist repellent system before entering the campus, that would be a good time to turn around and leave. (“ABORT! ABORT!”)

X. The Rollerworld parking lot is a great place to write *wash me* on the trunk of a Camaro on your way to some post game pizza. Especially when there is a passenger still sitting in the car (aka a redneck car alarm?). She will call the cops.


John Law will call you out in front of your friends to tell you that you are an idiot.


a. Karate kick a freshly painted wall, so your drafting teacher can pull you out of class to apologize to the dumb fuck janitor that has to repaint your footprint. Wait – you are the dumb fuck.

b. Walk the mall parking lot looking for cars with keys in them. For some reason, this is attractive to you in a Dodge Duster/Lincoln Continental/Coupe DeVille/ Skyhawk/ Ranchero sort of way. Maybe you will just re-park whatever candidate you find on the other side of the mall. That’s not stealing any more than shoving magazines under your coat but not getting out of the store before you’re busted is stealing. [Ed: in other words, it IS stealing.] Finally find one and get up close enough, while those wheels are turning in your head to come up with a plan, to notice that the driver of that Cadillac Seville is still in the car. Looking at you.



Playboy January 1979
So that is what I was looking at…

c. Go to the brown ugly Center Plaza thing to acquire a copy of Playboy. FOR THE ARTICLES. If the clerk is looking at you, tell your friend *he’s looking at us.* That definitely will not make the clerk come right over to ask why you said *he’s looking at us* or ask what in THE hell you are doing. (And then kick you pubescent assholes out)

Later, when you somehow acquire that 25th anniversary Playboy, rip the cover off so that passers-by will have absolutely no idea that the magazine with the centerfold you are gawking at in the middle of a downtown park is a Playboy

XI. Have staple gun fights. Never, for as long as you wish to be alive, have a nail gun fight.

XII. Stick your head out the window and yell “Oi” at every Pinto you see. Mustang IIs count the same.

XIII. Stop at one of those Stuckeys on the side of the highway that has been converted to a wine store by one of the area vintners. This will seem more logical if you have been drinking Kamikazes in a bar in suburban Detroit on a Phi Sigma Kappa mission for a while first. This store gives samples, and you are not quite particular, so sample every single type and flavor of wine they have. Try not to hit your head on the traffic TC is overtaking as you hang out the back window of an Isuzu Trooper at 70 mph. You have IMPORTANT MESSAGES for the terrified and bemused drivers behind you, if they would only learn to speak babble.

XIV. Sneak into camp with Bagman, Phid and Yoko. Your mom thinks you’re camping. That future protective custody inmate you know thinks you’re blowing off the campout. Go ahead and drive right by him. (He probably won’t see you when he looks right at you.)

Phid brought his girlfriend, Yoko. This does not have any significance to your immediate social life, any more than in the future when she and Jane both get a good look at your junk, so put that idea right out of your head. (This is BK Jane, not that psycho bitch your Dad remarried.)

Going for a late night hike after *hiding* the cars is a great way to kill time before the sheriff deputies arrive to yell at you for trespassing. Why did they come out? Because your scoutmaster Darrell *Michael Jackson* Dickhead busted you. I guess he did see you.

Kalamazoo county sheriff

What could really make this night complete? it’s 4 am, you’re driving on fumes, having been threatened with arrest asked to leave scout camp and filling the void with drunken orgies driving around aimlessly, since you can’t go home (you’re on a camp out, remember?) You’re stone cold sober. Some Buford T. Justice stops you for a burned out headlight and tries to coerce you into admitting a DUI. “You’ll never take me alive, copper.”

One equipment violation later, park in the middle of a softball diamond across the street and about 100 yards away from where you got busted the first time this night. Because you are so damn sexy, you get to sleep in the big car with Bagman, and not the Mustang-Pinto with Yoko and Phid.

Darrell *Michael Jackson* Dickhead, the future protective custody inmate, will narc to your mom that, no you were not on a camp out. Try explaining this to Moms, but leave out the part about trying to score beers and wishing to bat lead off in a gang bang . Because she is in the middle of a divorce and Dickhead is aptly named, she will let you slide, if only because you were not arrested.

The awkward explanation to Mom and a bullshit *hearing* in front of parents that are pissed at you, but who loathe pissy little Dickhead more, is just icing on a night of shit.

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