I have recently noticed something interesting. Apparently, there are a few people on this site who, get ready for it…like to drink. Surprising, I know. I thought this week would be a good time to share my own perspective on the fraternity community’s national pastime. Now, I know nobody likes to be told how to drink. I am not doing this. I know this isn’t your first rodeo. I’d just like to share a few of my personal views with my favorite audience. Think of it as Sterling Cooper’s Personal Scale of Intoxication.
No Man’s Land (1-4 Beers): This is the beginning of your night/day/morning. There is no excuse for any ridiculous behavior based on alcohol consumption at this point. If you can’t regulate your shit four beers deep, I hear Mike’s is developing semen flavored Hard Lemonade that you might be interested in.
Expected Behavior: Two-stepping with a pretty lady, putting down beers as fast as possible (no one wants to be in this stage for long), and in general- behaving in a gentlemanly manner.
Feelin’ Good (5-7 Beers): This also known as tipsy ONLY if you are a girl. If you ever refer to your state as “tipsy,” you will be immediately decommissioned as a fraternity man and be forced to start over as a pledge, even if you’re a 10-year alum. Your head is buzzing slightly, but you’re still totally coherent. Talking to cops is no problem at this point, and you could ace a field sobriety test as long as they don’t do that backwards alphabet shit.
Permitted Behavior: Talking slightly louder than anyone really wants you to. Invading personal space during conversations to establish dominance. Making hilarious, if not slightly off-color, jokes. This is the funniest you will be for the night. You might think you’re really funny later. You’re probably not. You will also now be allocated one use of the word “bro” per hour. This should be reserved only for a good friend walking into the house or someone spilling a drink (“Bro!”). Any “bro-ing” beyond that will result in a verbal warning, followed by a tight spiral to the nuts for each subsequent offense.
Inebriation (8-12 Beers): This is my personal favorite place to be on a regular basis. You can get into all kinds of shenanigans, but still forcibly sober yourself up long enough to get out of predicaments. You might be hung over the next day, but it’s nothing that can’t be killed with Advil, Gatorade, and a healthy dose of the ol’ hair-of-the-dog.
Acceptable Behavior: Yelling at pedestrians from a balcony. Grinding with females of questionable class. Arguing with someone at the bar just because you heard them say the word “Obama.”
Drunk (13-tipping point): There is no definite line or number of drinks between “drunk” and the foggy land beyond drunk. It all depends on your tolerance, weight, beverage of choice, and general badassery.
Allowable Behavior: Pissing anywhere and everywhere. Going to pound town (possibly even brown town) with the aforementioned questionable girl. Puking-and-rallying. Doing donuts in the lawn of the Environmental Science building. Freestyle rapping with hobos. Drinking half-full beers sitting around the house. Trying to give your dog the grip.
Beyond Redemption (tipping point-?): All bets are off at this point. Unless you are being filmed, you will never truly know what happened. People will likely tell you about all kinds of nefarious misdeeds that you allegedly perpetrated. These stories may or may not be true. In all likelihood, they were as drunk as you and probably only dreamed that you shit in your hand and threw it at the church group handing out flyers. Then again, your hand doesn’t smell so good…
Tolerable Behavior: There is none. People less drunk than you (aka girls and GDIs) will not like you. Everything you do at this point is easily explained to people the next day by the greatest defense a person can give: “I was blackout.” You are guaranteed to wake up the next day feeling like you were dome-fucked by the Ebola virus and you will definitely not be in your bed. One thing is for sure; if you wake up in the frathound’s doggy bed, you are a lucky son of a bitch. Blackout stories are always classic, but try to keep nights like this down to one or two per month. No need to drink yourself to down syndrome (totally scientifically possible).
So, men, that is my list. Hope you all enjoyed it. Feel free to share other rules for the various categories in the comments section. However, if you comment something to the effect of “13 beers is just a slow evening for me because I’m hardcore,” or any other “I can drink more than you” statements, I will hunt you down and shove your pledge pin up your urethra. The rest of you, have a Four Horsemen on me at the bar tonight. Just tell the bartender that Sterling Cooper sent you.