Sorry for partying.

Posted on October 7, 2010

3


I’M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, I posted a “coming soon” entry over a month ago. Yes, over a month does not qualify as “soon.” Yes, I have apologized for my not-exactly-up-do-date-blogging for at least three entries now. My B, my B. Blame… college.

Speaking of college, I go to a great one. A great one that the Princeton Review (party animals by definition) officially deemed THE NUMBER ONE PARTY SCHOOL IN THE NATION!!!!!!!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAGEEEEE!

Not.

Truth be told, things haven’t really been the same since we got the metaphorical party crown of laurels and the bragging rights among big state schools with a known penchant for binge drinking. There was no campus-wide celebratory kegger. Our president killed tailgating on North Campus, the Greek community’s walking on thin ice (especially while out wearing costumes on Thursday nights), hoards of bike cops post up on corners downtown like it isn’t also their job to fight crimes like domestic abuse and armed robbery…

BUT I DIGRESS.

Here’s the heart of the matter: plenty of people will persevere. I’d like to clarify that I’m not one of them, but there are people on this campus who find any possible reason to drink. They make everything a party (not this kind), whether they’re drinking a lone soda or boozing outright with their functionally alcoholic partners in debauchery (and sometimes, thanks to the ACC police department, crime).

A key part of the party, as Georgia students know best, is the pregame. Those experts in the art of the party will pregame anything and everything, especially now that the collective panty wad of the University is a bit more bunched. Here’s the list of the best, worst and most underrated things I believe people can and will pregame at this school.

To begin, the worst:

Court: too soon? I’m guessing those of you who are going or have gone to court lately are going for certain alcohol-related reasons… public urination/defecation, a sloppy sidewalk stumble, a night behind bars per request? There have to be some unfortunate future stars of “Intervention” (too soon, again?) who want to shake off the pre-sentencing nerves. And to them, the answer is obvious: the booze that’s landed them in the House of Law in the first place. The irony is incredible.

Church: this one goes out to those of you who straddle the fine line between  Saturday blackout and Sunday worship. How does that even work? I heard Bourbon Street plays “Our God is an Awesome God” at closing time… perfect preparation  for waking up still drunk on Sunday morning just in time to make it to whatever service for whatever denomination you’re affiliated with. You can even fend that hangover off with a swig of Communion wine. Saturday night might as well be a massive pregame for Sunday morning the way I see it, so I’ll count it. I won’t, however, count those of you who think your Saturday night outfit will look like a church outfit when you shack but don’t change before Sunday brunch. Dining Hall Big Brother is watching you, and he sees those Sharpie genitalia some frat star drew on you after you passed out with your heels on.

Philanthropy: yeeeeeah. This should speak for itself. Frat stars: I know those sorostitutes singing parody songs a capella about how much you suck is painful, but can you not get through raising money for the American Cancer Society without pounding beers in the theater’s bathroom? Students, can you not feed the homeless without four to twelve Lokos in your system? Usually the satisfaction of doing something good for those in need is an inherently great feeling, but some people seem to need a little more. Bad bad bad. If you legitimately do this, PLEASE, at least, stay away from children.

Next, the best:

Football: “Melissa, UGA is known for its tailgating. Why are you even bringing this up?” Because, skeptical reader, OUR FOOTBALL TEAM BLOWS. If there ever were a time for anyone to consider pregaming a football game, this would be the most appropriate. Football games these days are literally painful to endure! You’re getting charred in the sun by blistering heat (“No more night games,”says Adams), legs sore from standing in the bleachers, only to ultimately have your heart ripped to shreds by a team that, despite Mark Richt’s mantra in those Ford commercials, CAN’T FINISH THE DRILL. Call me a fair-weather fan–all I’m saying is, go ahead and cope with the inevitable in advance. I won’t stop you.

Court: Pregaming for court is one of the most awesomely bad concepts I have ever mentally crafted, and I sincerely trust that a UGA student or alumnus has been enough of an idiot savant to try it. Thus why it has landed in both the worst and the best idea categories. I mean… have you seen “Runaway Jury?” That film showed me that court-drunk is totally possible. You have to be quite the daredevil to get hammered before you even plead “Guiiiiiiiilllteeeehehehe” before the judge. Kudos.

The pregame itself: The masters, of course, never miss the pregame–they’re the friendliest ones there! Why, you ask? Because they’ve already had their own pregame. This is not a novel concept, especially at UGA, where I’d say a huge fraction of students have experienced an awkward date night set-up or have been dragged to some stranger’s uncomfortable and lifeless birthday party. Pregaming the pregame is obviously the most logical and responsible conclusion. I give you some words by a Georgian to live by because I can, and because I will, aaaand because I’m watching Real Housewives of Atlanta:

Finally, the most underrated things to pregame:

Classes and tests: I know via a plethora of anonymous sources with anecdotal evidence and Screwdriver-filled Nalgenes to guarantee you, readers, that this happens. It’s a very covert operation left to only the most experienced drinkers. It could be a pregame for some snoozefest lecture prior to the bliss of gameday weekend (minus the game itself, as mentioned above); it could be an accounting exam that you’ll know you’ll fail anyway until you realize that when you relax (thanks, TutoringZone, for the preparatory pocket shots), debits and credits make a whole lot of sense. The pre-class pregame is the lovechild of the academic and scholastic arenas of the nation’s finest.

Advising appointments: so you want to change your major, but you’re scared to approach the adviser. She never seems to have your best interests at heart! She already put you a semester behind because she “forgot” about those two core classes you were supposed to have taken several semesters ago. I see you, non-confrontational borderline alcoholics! Have another before you have to start thinking and talking about the real world! Résumés, internships, jobs OH MY! I get it–enjoy your undergraduate experience while you still can. Even if that means making a sixth year of it.

Any themed night at the dining hall: oh my God, upperclassmen, do you remember how glorious these were?!?? I especially miss the meal plan for its Appalachian Trail night and Beach cookout. Think about it… live music, limitless cuisine, a theme and decorations… it’s like being at a glorified social without having to pay for anything or show an ID. Boozing Greeks: pregame? DUH. Most of you frat stars are on the meal plan all 4-6 years plus grad and/or law school, anyway. You’ve plenty of time to try this out, since you usually bring beers to Bolton in your backpack on Friday nights anyway.

To those of you who can identify with any or all of these activities, I tip my hat. How you do it is beyond me, but thanks for being the reason we got the party school honor in the first place. For all I know you even pregamed reading this, since you knew my blog, like me, would be funnier and more attractive if you knocked a few back before dealing with it.

And despite the whole “defeat the drinking culture” crusade and those Tech fans and followers of Neal Boortz who now like to add in their scoffing that the only education we’re getting is one in binge drinking, I’m still proud that I go to a school that knows how to do it. Not to mention one that’s giving me a hell of an education.

“Ain’t nothin’ finer in the land…”

 

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