In high school, anti-drinking assemblies were filled with morons telling teens about the terrors of inebriation, and how it lowers your inhibitions causing you to do terrible things. They ended up wasting a perfectly good assembly trying to scare teens from having a good time with reasons to have a good time.
If I were in charge of these assemblies I would tell one story and the nationwide teen alcohol epidemic would cease. And if it didn’t, at least 16 year old girls would start using a little discretion when it came to getting wasted.
For me, getting wasted wasn’t about having a few drinks and some laughs. It was about competition. Drinking with me meant you were going to puke or die and I was going to mock you. When it came to getting blitzed out of my mind, I was a pro and everyone was in trouble.
One night, I started boozing, while getting ready to go out. Before I even left the house I’d finished an entire bottle of vodka with a friend. If you’re already scared, you probably should be.
Once I was at the bar, I kept drinking,
but boldly switched to whiskey. All bets were off. Grown men were scared and I was steadily entering blackoutland. For the most part, blackouts are not that terrible, I am fully functional and I am awesome during them, but this particular blackout something terrible happened.
I had sex with an ugly person, and not just ugly, but terrible looking. I had sex with a man that looked just like Rowan Atkinson, the guy that plays Mr. Bean.
To make matters worse, when I woke up he wanted to get my number. I was racing to get away from him, but he haunted me, and not just on television. It turned out he was a really good friend of the guy my sister was dating. It was social suicide. So kids, watch what you drink and how you drink it before you end up fucking the horrible look-alike of a bad British comedic actor, just like me.
