It's Not A Party Until Someone Is Comatose
Dudes. Dudes. Have you heard about the guy from the U of O (that's University of Oklahoma for you sober nerds out there) who drank himself to death at a frat pledge? A Sigma Chi pledge, even? That's right: you know how we do. Sigma Chi brings the party, kind of like me, which is why my nickname is "The Party" (no, I'm not talking about some political party, you news-watching loser! OH BURN!). And although it's not exactly cool that this dude drank so much that he's dead (I mean, it's cool, just not for him), I have to say that I wholeheartedly (or is it wholefartedly? Haha, whoa man, that's wicked) endorse the spirit of his actions: drinking in order to do as much harm to himself as possible.
The thing is, according to my one frat brother who we call "The Brain" because he sometimes falls asleep to CNN (and who could blame him? Haha, that's right, CNN is boring, BURN CNN!) this is the third death at a fraternity house in less than a month. Dudes, that is something that fills me with the "utmost joy" (I know, I sound like a knowing-a-lot-of-shit nerdario, but don't worry -- it's just something I picked up from watching The OC), because it sends me a message about all the fellow partying-downerings of this great fucking country of ours (yeah, like they really party in France, they're too busy BEING WUSSIES OH SNAP FRENCH!). It's something I've known for a long time, but with all this bullshit going on in the past few years about protesting the war (yeah, like holding a sign and marching makes you cool, what the fuck) having elections (I don't understand why we just can't have one guy rule us for like 50 years) and other boring shit, I've been afraid that my fellow brothers might have forgotten the good things in life. Luckily, it looks like I was wrong. People around the country are finding out what I've known my whole life (yeah, that's right, I was drinking when I was one, when my dad thought it would be funny to feed me beer on his poker night in front of his friends...and he was right!): it's not a party until someone is comatose.
That's right, you heard me. People nowadays think too fucking much. Like just the other day in some math class, I was trying to tell this one hot girl (she dresses a little weird, like with fucking weirdo no-name-brand shirts and pants instead of inch-long skirts) about this wicked-riptastic party the other day where a guy peed on the couch. Now, you might think that that's the funniest story in the world -- and it is. But this girl just gave me this fucking look (like the kind that you get from the faggoty faggot professor fag when you tell him you didn't write the paper because you didn't understand what a fucking "economic factor" is) and says, "You're an idiot." And then she goes back to working on a fucking math problem. I mean, I don't want to get all presidential here (especially since it would make me sort of, you know, rhinocrit, or whatever it's called), but that's a problem in our country today.
I mean, when did shit like math get more important than drinking so much alcohol that your brain is permanently...you know...not working good anymore? The last time I checked, nobody had to go to the hospital because they did too many math problems (unless they were drinking at the same time, whoa, sick dude). The last time I checked, nobody had to puke all over the place because of a multiplication problem (sometimes I feel like doing that, though, haha, am I right?). So here's what I'm thinking: there's only one idiot here, and it's not me. That leaves only one person left who could be the idiot, and even though I can't figure out who that is right now, I know it isn't me. Probably not, whatever. Fuck you.
Anyway, who goes to college for math? People like this stupid girl (who by the way I would still totally do if she had a few and thought I was like, Albert Einstein, or whoever she would have sex with) need a wake-up call about the true point of college: having the best years of your life with booze and chicks. People like to say shit to me like, "Why are you paying $30,000 a year to drink beer?" Well, first of all, asshole, I don't pay for it, my dad does. But anyway, the answer to that question is: "Because it's fucking fun, that's why!" If $30,000 is all it costs me to have two semesters of stuff like my buddy trying to eat his fingers because he thought they were hot dogs, or me accidentally walking through a window that I thought was a portal to a Hot Girls Island and having to get 42 stitches, or my other buddy having to drop out of school and get a shit job because he knocked some girl up, well, that's pretty cheap for a lifetime of memories (or NO MEMORIES, know what I mean, dude?).
So, the next time you feel like you're some kind of genius, do the world a favor and drink 34 beers. I can guarantee you this: if you don't die, you'll be one happy dude indeed. The Party OUT!