Spent all my quarters on laundry and skee ball. Beer Pong’s been played out lately. Would You Rather rounds have become weird, specific, and vindictive. This rut ends today; I avow to forge a new, better way to competitively binge drink in lieu of making conversation.
Simple is good. Constant drinking’s a necessity—I want any emotions thoroughly repressed. The boozing rate needs to be favorable. I need to hit that magic number, somewhere between Wade Boggs during a layover and a non-partying diabetic.
My army-surplus-store sword (1), a general-issue “Charlie Scalper”, certainly fits the bill for a terrible idea. I’m foreseeing a hospital visit plus a weird ball of lies and shifted blame over a predictably tragic outcome. It’d be like last summer when, completely bored, we took to tormenting a beehive (2), the afternoon culminating with me drunkenly trying to inject a forgetful neighbor with his EpiPen.
A ridiculous relay of sorts—backwoods engineering meets chronic alcoholism—could be solid. Bicycles (3) are bad news, though, whether I’m stuck behind one in my car or if I’m liquored up and riding one. Tricycles, Double Dare-ian in their nature, are way easier to ride and fulfill my drinking-game wackiness quota, plus, like me, they are tip-resistant.
Nah. Unless I uncover a set on Garbage Day or an unlocked and poorly guarded Toys For Tots bin, tricycles are just an expensive dream. Food-centric (4) drinking challenges are also out. Too often I’ve witnessed a case race go awry. We fly too close to the sun only to plummet back to Earth with a wave of White Castle-infused Pabst vomit.
This game can’t involve math (5) beyond counting. There’s no need to publically demonstrate how barely employable I am. I’m not a fan of far-reaching ramifications (6) either. Games that have people using my phone to send malicious texts to jealous ex-lovers or to prank call parents when posing as morgue employees are just a little too much to later straighten out. Frankly, I take peace-of-mind in knowing that, come morning, I won’t have to deal with anything beyond a hangover and possibly washing urine and McNugget crumbs out of a couch cushion.
Pictionary (7) is fucking stupid.
Folding laundry (8) and home appliance repair (9) both seem like equally dismal, chore-tacular spins on having fun. We could watch something, derive some rules grounded in general silliness to provoke us into constant boozing. Though, it couldn’t be a sad movie (10); people have different thresholds, alcohol’s a weird variable, and I’m fearing the night would end with a shirtless cuddle of dudes who are completely shitfaced and sobbing over Air Bud.
Ugh. Brutal. Every idea or game sounds tedious or terrible. Describing what it shouldn’t be was an awful way to brainstorm.
Okay. New plan. When people come over we will start drinking until we invent a game. Boozing, embracing weird, and shooting down each other’s ideas will be the temporary new entertainment. Competitive, mean, no difficult rules to remember, I can’t wait to play.