David Goggins’ Pledge Diary: Part Three

Photo Credit: Medium

I woke up this morning with puke on my bed sheets, two dislocated fingers, and what seems to be a flashbang-esque concussion. In spite of my best efforts, I couldn’t remember anything from our ΣΕΧ pledge class party the night prior. I decided to go on a run to clear my head and sweat out the ten-plus pounds of alcohol in my system, which slowly began to grow my recollection of the night prior. Here are my findings: 

Mile 1: 

Around 11:00 pm, the females started pouring into the house. While I was busy doing wall sits and downing Sam’s Club vodka, the rest of my pledge brothers let the ratio get entirely out of control. By 11:17 pm, there were at least four hundred “hammered” sorority chicks at the party in comparison to our pledge class of thirty guys. Although this might sound desirable, my brothers were letting their inner bitch steal all of their rizz, completely destroying their chance at getting any action. Pathetic. 

Mile 11: 

The hours between 11:00 pm and 1:30 am are starting to become a little less hazy. In a true “finance bro” manner, the absurd ratio inspired all of the pledges to recreate Jordan Belfort’s Vegas bachelor party. Before I knew it, someone was cranking nose beers off of the Delta Gamma president’s chest, but I chose not to partake in such a low-level pledge activity. So rather, I spent the majority of my time bench pressing the largest females I could find. If you want to be uncommon amongst the uncommon, you’ve got to fucking work for it, and that’s exactly what I did. 

Mile 34: 

Holy shit –  I think I spent the night in jail. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to fill the gap between 2:00 am and 6:00 am. I remember dominating three of my pledge brothers in sumo wrestling, but then I draw a blank until 6:00 am where I recall waking up on a cold, concrete floor in an orange jumpsuit. If there’s a mugshot, I need to find it; That might be the hardest motherfucking thing of all time. 

Mile 52: 

I now can remember that my night ended with a drunken ride back to the house on a stolen bike – on which I hit a massive pothole and was launched forward – breaking two of my fingers and slamming my head onto the concrete. But, I wasn’t going to just lie there like a bitch, so I hopped back onto the bike and finished the ride like the badass pledge I am. Although there are still some blanks from last night, at least I can explain some of my injuries. I probably should go to the hospital, but I won’t show any weakness in front of my brothers. Stay hard. 

Written by the godfather

To comment, fill out your name and email below.

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Biggest Stories from the NFL 3 Weeks in

Why Can’t Antonio Brown Keep his Clothes On?