Have you been caught in one of these situations?
Ah, the classic tale of revenge. You have been a dickhole all night, starting fights, slapping girls asses and missing the toilet with your projectile vomit. Everyone hates you, and now is their chance to show it. It beings innocently with a dick drawing on the cheek, then a few strategically placed “I heart penis” notations. But when you wake up, your underwear have been cut off of your lifeless body and you look like a walking Pollock painting…it might be time to send out a mass text and check if you still have any friends.
Though your dance session seemed “so hot” last night, I can assure you that the photo documentation was not.
Girls: “Backing it up” was indeed a safe foreplay maneuver, but didn’t do much for your pride. You basically got dry humped doggy-style in public view.
Guys: When on the dance floor at a club, more times than not, you look like you are either a) attempting to sink your haunches into a lucky lady the way a hyper poodle does to his owners leg or b) holding on for dear life because you have no idea what she is doing with her hips. Also, resist the urge to “throw your hands in the air” when the cameras are out as your armpits are usually sweating like you just took four hits of Ecstasy.
You know what they say: If you can’t party with them, party AROUND them. This rogue clubber seems to find his way into the background of everyone else’s photos, making his presence known typically with a peace sign, a “peace out” sign, or the “rock on” horns. Who is this guy? What happened to his friends? Doesn’t he work the Carl’s Jr. drive-thru? No one really knows the answers to these questions. What we do know is that he is hell-bent on fucking up the photos of all patrons better looking and more popular than him.
You're a stud right? Got your sweet hair cut, and a casual button-down shirt that tells the ladies that you’re no slob...but also that you don't take life out of the office too seriously. Weekends = Party time. Oh Yeah! We're going out tonight boys and we're going to raise hell. You spend all night buying hot girls drinks but too no avail and start to get a bit loose yourself...thinking there's got to be a girl in this spot that's as hammered as you are.
Then you find her and start dirty dancing to Best of Summer Hits 2003 (you use a dance you learned while in Cabo during that year's Spring Break to woo her), and the next thing you know you are playing tonsil hockey in the middle of a crowded room and hands start a wandering. You’re having fun, you are in the prime of your life. No big deal right? Sure buddy. Until the picture of you motor-boating a stranger finds its way to the company mail server.
We all like to relax while on the pot, but for god’s sake, maintain consciousness. A more humiliating situation does not exist than being discovered by your friends, hunched over and comatose, with your pants around you ankles. No one can blame the photographer. Any way you look at it, the scenario is a banner moment that must be captured. Then again, it is tough to blame the victim either. You drank a lot of beer, so you are drunk…you want to sit. You also need a place to excrete the liquid waste from the beer. You walk into the bathroom and BAM! There is a place to sit WHILE excreting liquid waste. Who thought of this? Brilliant! And it is so comfort a…
The loss of control of basic bodily functions is something that should be kept off film at all costs. It can only mean one of two things. Either your body has most completely shut down due to your consumption of alcohol, or your foresight was so poor that you were unable to allocate proper time to find a restroom around the time your bladder reached max capacity. However, this girl seems to be an expert in damage control. Once the deed is done, your best strategy is to curl up in the fetal position to minimize your shame. On the up side of things, that cute flannel you are wearing is going to look great with your boyfriend’s mesh gym shorts from 7th grade.
This was not a funny charade. You were not just resting for a minute. You were out…all the way out. So much so that you became the party’s project. Congratulations! Your friends rallied around your conked-out corpse and gave you a proper burial. On the positive side, they have enough respect for you to not write all over your lifeless body. On the negative side, you still suck.
The fact that we humans were given the materials to produce alcohol and only two legs on which to balance is God’s ultimate cruel joke. The sidewalk might as well be a sheet of ice covered in baby oil; no man stands a chance. The important thing is that we are all in this together, and you have friends to pick you up when you fall, right after snapping a picture of your pathetic ass on the ground.
Everyone has been there. Or at least most have. The night is coming to a close. Your sure thing turned out to not be that sure of a thing, or you are newly singled and looking to 'mingle'. In the back of your mind you know that you have to get drunk enough to make out with any of these seahogs, they all look the same in the dark right? And in the morning, after a small bout of self-loathing...you can quietly sneak out of the room and have one of your friends (or a cab?) come pick you up from her house... The best part about it, is that you went to a bar where your friends are never at and partied with people you don't know. It's cool; no one will ever know. Right? Wrong. Your thoughtless debauchery has been immortalized in order to educate future generations on both the merits of contraceptives, and what alcohol can do to your motor skills as well as your standards.
What is it about alcohol that encourages everyone to switch teams? Kinsey…you got anything on this? Girls start making out with each other and boys start fake bf-ing as soon as the cameras come out. I am all for the dropping of inhibitions whilst under the influence, but the latent homoeroticism of these photos is not what you want to be sharing with your gym partner the next day over a Creatine shake. Maybe you can try to release just a bit of that sexual repression before you are 7 keg stands deep.
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