I miss frat parties. I miss walking into an extremely dirty house full of guys I barely knew. I miss pretending to not want to be there. I even miss the jungle juice.
It’s been a while since I’ve been to a frat party, or had jungle juice, for that matter, and I’ve noticed I haven’t been sick in a long time. It could be a combination of social distancing, masks, or the disgusting amount of hand sanitizer I’ve been using lately, but I genuinely think it’s because jungle juice used to be a part of my regular diet.
If you don’t know what jungle juice is, 1) you’re lucky, 2) it’s the drink frats serve at their party for their guests. It’s served in big orange coolers that definitely haven’t been washed for generations (they’re usually moldy, for a little extra flavor).
If you’re like me and wanting to feel alive again, I wrote down a recipe so you can make your own jungle juice at home.
- Three gallons of 99 cent off-brand fruit juice
- Two handles of $2.99 watered-down vodka
- One 6-pack of Natty Light
Mix and serve!
Note: that was the recipe for gourmet jungle juice. For context, the pledges are in charge of the juice. They have to buy it, make it, and serve it. When the guests aren’t happy, the pledges are in trouble. That means there’s extra pressure to keep it lasting all night. If they have to add their own blood, sweat, and tears to keep the coolers full, so be it.
Here’s the authentic, tried-and-true recipe frats use:
- However much juice was leftover from last weekend
- The handle of watered-down vodka that was in the pantry
- A few Natty Lights that some of the pledges were in the middle of drinking
- If it’s an outdoor party, rain (For constant free refills)
- The half-empty cups of dark liquid that were sitting on the counter which have to be either Coke or Pepsi (and are probably not dip spit)
- The half-empty cups of yellow liquid sitting on the counter (it’s lemonade, right?)
- The puddle on the floor that people are dancing in
None of the spoons are clean, so use pledge’s hands, (or any body part available), to mix.
Budget-wise, jungle juice is great. Gallons of the juice costs less to make than one single drink costs at a bar. At its best, it tastes like watery fruit juice mixed with beer, and at its worst, holding your nose — while you pretend not to notice the hint of … urine? That can’t be urine, right? — will help it go down smoothly.
There was a point in time where I consumed jungle juice at least 2-3 times a week. I didn’t question its ingredients, who made it, how long it’s been sitting out, or whose body parts have been in it. I wasn’t worried about getting sick, I was worried about drinking as much free alcohol as I possibly could before I left for bars. And that, my friend, is a beautiful thing.
So no, because of the gallons of jungle juice I’ve consumed in my lifetime, I’m not worried about what’s inside the Covid vaccine. If you’ve so much as even taken a sip of the juice out of a red solo cup you found on the floor in the back, the vaccine is probably scared of you, trust me. I’m pretty sure some frat’s basement is where Covid originated, anyways. Cheers!