I love a good challenge. That’s one of the main reasons that I pledged a fraternity in the first place. But as an active, most things seemed like a real cakewalk compared to the demonic activities I had to partake in as a big shit associate member. That was until one of my brothers showed up to a meeting with the type of genius idea for a brotherhood event that would make the likes of Thomas Edison and Albert Einstein proud: The Great American Challenge.
Never heard of it? Well, familiarize yourself because it’s the type of challenge that separates the men from the boys, the strong from the weak, and the actives from the pledges. Brothers separate into teams (ours were of 5) and the first team to finish a 30-rack, a fifth of vodka, an eighth of an ounce of marijuana, two large pizzas, and a 100-piece puzzle in that order wins. If the thought of taking that on doesn’t make the hairs on your sack stand at attention at least a little bit, go put on a skirt and join a sorority.
Most people would view a competition of this magnitude as an all-day marathon of binging on some of God’s most beautiful creations. Yeah, no chance. “I sprint marathons……simple as that,” as Jimmy Tatro once eloquently said. Safe to say this turned into a shit show that would shock the average person and send our parents to an early grave. First came the welcomed rush of liquor and beer. Thank God I had been conditioning myself for this my whole college career or else I would have been spewing everywhere after the second shotgunned beer within 30 seconds. Eventually, all of that sweet poison caught up to me along with everyone else, seemingly all at the exact same time. I can honestly say that it looked exactly like a synchronized dance routine, except instead of dancing, it was fountains of projectile vomit exuding from everyone’s mouth in perfect unison. I’m sure you can picture it.
Eventually, two filled trash cans later, all of the booze was finished and it was time to hit the hash. Do the dro. Gargle some ganja. Consume some cannabis. Sorry, I’ll stop now. Mouth breathe some Maryjane. Okay that was the last one. But yeah, the weed was just what the doctor ordered after all the drinking and puking had taken its toll on my stomach. One of my teammates rolled that shit up like it was his day job, probably because it was, and we smoked it down in record time. Seeing straight started to become just about impossible.
The pizza didn’t stand a chance at this point. Everyone began channeling their inner Gordon Ramsay and making pizza slice sandwiches, pizza balls, pizza and beer soup, and anything that could help them scarf it down quicker than the other competing teams.
The puzzle part of the challenge is what really shined a light on the biggest idiots in our fraternity. Each team was allowed to pick out and buy whatever 100-piece puzzle they wanted. So, my team not being half-retarded, picked out one with simple shapes and colors on it that would be easy to put together. However, no one else seemed to share this infinite wisdom and every other group went and picked out puzzles that looked like complex Picasso paintings, and in some cases, puzzles that were 3D so that the different pieces would slightly change appearance every time you moved them making it nearly impossible to put together. I swear sometimes I think I only rushed my fraternity to make myself look like a genius.
Being the smarter and all-around better conditioned squad for this type of gluttony, my team, appropriately named “Team Awesome Penises,” came out the victor. The song “We are the Champions” came blaring out of our house speakers for an excessive amount of time as we galloped around the house reeking with success while flipping off all losers and air-jerking it in their faces. God, I love brotherhood events..