Sunday, June 23, 2013

The Drunker Games

My friends all suggested that I blog about this event because they wanted to record its stupidity for future generations.

One evening, about a year and a half ago, my friends and I went out for margaritas on a Tuesday night. The Hunger Games was everywhere and we were all trying to decide what to do for Memorial Day weekend.
After a few margaritas we had an idea, a marvelous, stupid, crazy idea.

What started out as a discussion for a bar crawl transformed into a no-holds-barred drinking melee, which we fondly refer to as The 1st Annual 74th Annual Drunker Games.

The first year the concept was that each team was given a route to get through. You must go to all the bars (7 total) and each team member must drink a pint of beer. At the end of the beers, you have to take a picture of your finished pint glasses and then go/sprint to the next bar. All teams after their third bar were then forced to go to a mid-point bar. At this bar a new rule was introduced: Tributing. One person on the team can volunteer as tribute and take four shots. The four shots must be consumed in tandem with the four pints the rest of your team has to drink.

If you “tribute” a bar, then you are allowed to skip the next bar. Simple and dumb.

The results were pretty mixed. My team wasn’t super competitive, so we kind of took it easy, two of us tributed, and by the end of the crawl we were all a little drunk, but nothing crazy.

Other teams, however, took the contest very seriously. This is why my roommate was sprawled on our back deck at 6 in the evening, after completing the entire course in roughly two hours.

We all had a great time and agreed that this year we would, obviously, have to have a Quarter Quell.
My friends and I wanted to make the event bigger this year, but recruiting for a four-hour, fast-paced, shot-taking bar sprint is tougher than one would imagine.  

One of the best parts of this whole thing is that we wanted to revise the rules for the new games. Just like the book, I wanted each games to be unique. While working at my job, which requires roughly .23% of my brain power, I had a revelation. I had the idea that we should make a point system for each bar (bars are worth 6,8, and 10 points depending on location) and then have tributing double the point totals for a bar. So, you can go to a four-point bar, tribute and get 8 points. I also had the…good?...idea of creating The Massacre. A Massacre is when not just one, but the entire team takes four shots of booze and has to drink the four pints of alcohol. This leads to triple the points for a bar. Did I create this rule merely to bait my roommate to see if he was crazy enough to do it?

Yup.

The other two gamemakers and I perfected the scheme, made the maps, and were all ready to go.
While planning the games I was explaining the concept and this happened:

Me:  “I think we should have the total be 50 points.”
Friend: “Whoa. Only fifty? I mean… All you have to do is go to like three bars and massacre two of them.”
Me: “…Do you realize what the massacre entails?”
Friend: “Yeah. You just have the team do four shots per person.”
Me: “Per person. And each team must have a girl.”
Friend: “Yeah.”
Me:  “So a girl is going to have to take eight shots of hard alcohol and drink 3 pints of beer in an hour and a half…”
Friend: “Yeah.”

For some reason no one was getting the concept that drinking eight shots of hard alcohol is going to be hard for ANYONE. I mean, my friends and I are established drinkers, but… But…

Eventually I talked everyone off the ledge and we had the fifty point total. At the conclusion of the games I couldn’t help but bring it up again.

“Remember when y’all wanted to just massacre every bar?”

My friend who won the games, his eyes heavily glazed over, says, “Waddya what are the what?”

This year we added a couple of new things to the Games. Yes, we do open the games with a team 40 chug. You are not allowed to enter the Cornucopia for prizes until your team has successfully chugged a King Cobra. The Cornucopia is a bunch of Gatorades, waters, crackers, and “bonuses” in envelopes. The bonuses were things like, “Your team gets +3 to begin.” I didn’t want people swooping and stealing all of the prizes, so roughly 70% of the bonuses were actually negatives. I am evil.

We also had the Opening Ceremonies this year, which consisted of 6 drinking game events, including Beer 
Ball, Sink the Bismarck, Beer Pong, Flip Cup, Kings, and To Mordor, which put all the teams against each other in matches of drinking valor. Each team who won, or lost, depending on the game, was awarded a bonus prize from above. The Ceremonies also included a Costume Contest that included a team of lumberjacks and my one friend bought presidents masks like the robbers in Point Break.

The day was super successful, but one of my favorite parts of this event was running into one of the new teams at the second to last bar. It was 2 guys and their girlfriends who only knew my one friend. They were all absolutely trashed and we all became instant best friends.

One of the guys felt it necessary to pull me aside and say, “Man, your speech to open the games was great. It was like really inspiring.”

My speech went something like this:

“Anyone have questions? Okay. GO! Drink your 40s!”

By the end of the night my one friends had pulled me aside and swore that were he a homosexual, we most 
certainly would have dated, I confided in my other friend that I think she was the prettiest of all my friends, and I then proceeded to do sit-ups in the street to mock the firemen, who were working out across the street.

Another successful Drunker Games.


If you want to sign up for next year, you can email me and let me know. While I doubt anyone will, I have a feeling that Miley would join in, should she become my best friend...as was my only New Year's resolution for 2013:


Around OK Cupid in 8 Days

I have recently found myself single. It sucks.

I’ve never really dated that much before, but to avoid random bursts of tears and floor-laying sessions listening to love songs, which the breakup facilitated, I have recently decided that I’m going to get out there and start shaking my money-maker…  I’m not really sure what currency my butt would trade in, but I’m hoping for something amazing like gold bullion.

Today, after a solid 8 days on the website, I can say that you do not find a lot of gold bullion on OK Cupid.

Firstly, I almost had a seizure immediately upon signing up. I finished my profile, uploaded the picture, and was taken to the land of epileptic love. Stuff was flashing. YOU GOT SHIVERED! shot up on my screen. I had messages piling up in my gmail inbox. “CHUKD gave you 5 stars!” The number counter on my profile kept shooting up. I got weird messages. My old rowing coach gave me 5 stars. This all happened within hours of me opening my profile. I almost had a panic attack.

The people who are looking for action don’t mess around, either. I had multiple messages of, “Hey Handsome.” Pop up in my inbox. These were often sent by the older gentlemen on the website, who probably just copy paste and message EVERYONE who signs up that day.

I decided to gird my loins, however, and keep an open mind. My strategy was to message back and forth A LOT before anything really happened to make sure that I was not found murdered in a Boystown dumpster. This led to some amazing interactions.

The first was this 22 year old, who I actually had no interest in, but he was the first normal person to message me, so I was like, “Whatevs!” We went back and forth a bit and then exchanged numbers. I don’t really do the texting thing. Like, I’m not going to tell you every detail about my day, or send you lewd pictures, or send smiley emoticons at random. That ain’t my thang. I think this disappointed the 22-year old, who would send me smileys and “Hey, Cuties,” usually after 10 pm when he was drinking on Wednesdays…because he’s still in college. We set up a lunch meeting, which he totally blew off.

Me: Can u still meet?
Him: Oh. This surprise work thing came up. It’s a training.

That was the last text I ever received from him. I can say that I didn’t expect anymore because that was about the most made up thing I can possibly imagine. Who works someplace where you can have surprise all-day trainings? Maybe he’s in the CIA? Maybe he was waiting for me to start the conversation back up? Maybe he did have an all-day training?

There are a lot of maybes, but the one definite is that I didn’t care one single bit.

On to Guy 2:

Guy 2 was the BEST. Why? Because this:

So he messages me a few times back and forth. And then we exchanged numbers. I texted him:

Hey, it’s Tedd, what’s going on?

15 mins later I get this message:

“Geu”

Uh…what? I don’t respond because Geu doesn’t get rewarded with a response.

10 mins after the “Geu”, I get:

“Sup.”

So I respond: “Not much, just getting ready for bed.”

15 mins later he says: “Same.”

Uhhh….

The best part was that at about 2:30 in the morning, I get this text: “Why are you so attractive?”

I think I need to remind the reader that this was about 4 days into the 8 day period. One blow off, one guy who obviously has never communicated through text message (or possibly any medium) before.

Winning.

The text guy still messages me at 2 am on weekends. It’s always the same. It’s always just: “Howdy.”

Yup.

The rest of the four-day period was full of more “Hey Handsomes” and awkwardness. I found one guy who wrote complete sentences back to me and went on a date. The results were mixed, but he was a really nice guy.

I decided to pack it in more because I just didn’t have time for dates. The guy I went on a date with I messaged back and forth pretty often and it took roughly 10 days for another night to open up. My hearts not really into the rapid-fire dating thing, so I’m going to lay low the rest of the summer. In the winter when I’m cold and lonely, I’ll think about going back to OK.

This all was juxtaposed to my other friend who joined about the same time I did. He went on his first date and goes, “Yeah, he was really hot and nice. I guess he’s a consultant, so he makes lots of money. He bought all my drinks and we set up a second date.”

It’s at this point in my day when I wonder if I’m living in a parallel universe. Dating is easy? How does this guy get Handsome McCharming and I get Sup Geu?

The OK experience was, of course, better than my 8 minutes on Manhunt. Being a complete idiot, when my friend told me he had a free month on Manhunt, I didn’t question whether it was a dating site… or a site with lots of prevalent male genitalia hanging out and people who are more interested in orifices than faces. After signing in once, I’d had about as much as I could handle.

This all culminated in me telling my therapist, which led to this interaction:

“So, how’s it going Tedd?”
“My dating life is a series of PG-rated trainwrecks.”
“That’s fine. Write about it. You could be the gay Taylor Swift.”

…I’m going to pretend that this is a compliment.

Come Fly with Me

No – don’t. Don’t ever get on the same flight as me because it is misery and emptiness and terriblocity. Most recently I went with my friends to NY. The plane ticket I had was worth roughly 10 billion dollars because I flew United and got to pay for TWO change of airfares. They were both due to my own issues, but it still is not cheap and I hated how much cash I basically just flushed down the drain.

I get to the terminal with my buddy and we go to check in. Try to check in. I get bounced from the self-serve kiosk, so I get in line and go to an attendant. She tries to check me in twice and fails. Rather than helping me there, as I thought would be the case, she shuffles me over to another line where I’m behind five people.

Five. That can’t take long, right? Try forty minutes.

Watching the United team take care of guests was sad for everyone involved. I guess no one has ever been trained, so they all shuffle between podiums asking each other questions. It didn’t matter how advanced a person was, they still did the old shuffle-roo over to their neighbor, waited five minutes for them to finish a task, then brought them over to their own podium where, generally, they had to get a third person to figure things out. These two women in front of me had two suitcases roughly the size of elephants,  and the entire hour and ten minutes I was in the process of fixing my ticket, they were dumping out clothes, putting back in clothes, talking to the attendant, weighing bags, getting new tickets. When I left they were still figuring out what to do.

When I got up to the podium, I was met with the same kind of shuffle party that the others had been treated to. My lady looks at my ticket. Then, oh lawdy, I have never seen such typing. This lady made hunt and peck look like rapid fire stenography. It was one – letter –at –a –time. My friend said, “Maybe it’s a different operating system.”

I guess I shouldn’t expect the team to understand the operating system if they still couldn’t weigh a bag without getting 14 people to help.

So the lady types in about 5 keystrokes (read: 3 minutes of typing) and then just does the TSK. She TSKs and then looks to the left…to the right… Then, yep, she shuffles. She shuffles over and asks someone for help. The guy she asks for help is busy, so she bashfully walks back to me and doesn’t say anything. She stares at my ticket and then stares at the computer screen like it’s going to help matters. Then she stares at my ticket again – stares at the computer – stares at the ticket – stares at the computer – stares – stares….
It’s like their training manual is a piece of toilet paper with this on it:

Lots of stuff can go wrong – figure it out as you go! In the meantime, please practice looking between the ticket and the computer monitor and tsking and sighing, as if you are actually doing something constructive. <3 United Airlines

Finally the other guy gets done with his thing and then hustles over to us. I figured he was a manager, so he would know how to type at least 15 words a minute.
Nope.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.

He pulls up something and finally explains to me why the ticket I paid 892080398 bajillion dollars for is not presently getting me on an airplane.

So he picks up the phone.

At this point I look back at my buddy, who very dramatically mouths, “PHONE?!” To which I have to just shrug. He gets on the phone and talks to this guy. Of course there is no urgency, even though my plane is leaving in thirty minutes.  So the guy laughs, laughs, then all of a sudden stares, horrified at the computer screen. This lasts for about 30 seconds before even more laughing begins.

After another solid minute of guffawing, he puts down the phone and hands me my boarding pass.

“We completely deleted you from the system,” he says smiling. “That was a close one!”

I barely had time to hear him as I sprinted toward security.

NY

New York was a complete blast, but one of those good times that doesn’t really do anything for people who weren’t there.

“How was it?!”
“Fun! We…went to bars…and then…ate pizza…”
“Oh…”

Unless you’re there to see my friend, wearing a bejeweled crown and supporting two of my female friends, while eating a slice of pizza, though, you don’t really get the point.

The best anecdote from the whole weekend was after a night out on the town when my friends and I went to a pizza place. I was with two girls and they went to get pizza.

My one girlfriend went first and ordered a slice, followed by me.

These two guys at a table hollered: “She’s cute!” Then the other said, “Yeah, she’s got her man, though…”, meaning me.

The guys were cute, so my friend whirls around, and without missing a beat, says, “No, he likes d—k.” She then says, “I like d—k, too.”

For some reason, no one thinks this is odd or vulgar. The two guys at the table go, “Yeah, man. That’s cool if you like d—k. We know guys like that, too.”

My friend proceeds to sit down, at which point another young gentleman comes over, reaches out to grip my hand and goes, “I like d—k ,too, man.”

Ahhh… The things that bring people together. Only in New York!