How To Stay Entertained As A Designated Driver

Posted: April 5, 2010 by kaostheory in Advice, Informative
Tags: , ,

Holy balls. This hangover…

(KT, I think you may have a drinking problem. – ed.)

My PROBLEM is that I have a hangover that would wake the dead.

(What on earth did you HAVE, you dumb asshole? – ed.)

Red wine. Lots of red wine. Those tannins are sneaky little brain betrayers.

(Be that as it may, you want to do your article? – ed.)

No. But I will. Let’s see what…oh, the irony just sickens me.

(Thought you’d like that. Do it to it, Sir Pukesalot – ed.)

You know what? In my defense, I at least remembered that I had red wine so I didn’t freak out and start screaming when it was red, you dick.

Anyways, if you’re a hard drinker like all of us here at Dan Eats Cat Food, if you go out with friends and somehow find yourself the next morning sleeping shirtless in a grimy hotel room with the air conditioner on full blast, if you party until the sun comes up and have a drink because another day actually came, you – at some point – either have or will have the unfortunate duty of being the designated driver.

Let us be clear: we respect the hell out of the DD. It is the tireless effort and unbreakable spirit of the DD that allows parties to go out and get fast food or more booze without fear of being arrested for driving drunk. Without them, many parties would be impossible and downright weak. That being said, NOBODY likes to party with the DD. Even the DD doesn’t. Because while what they do is noble, they have to drink water while watching everyone else get slammed and become loud and obnoxious and horny. They sit to the side because they have a duty to do. And it sucks. It is boring and makes parties not much fun to attend.

However, if you do draw the short straw one night and become the DD, we have a few days for you to keep yourself entertained.
If you are at someone’s house or apartment, why not get yourself to the kitchen and play a little soup roulette? This being, of course, tearing all the labels off of the cans of soup and veggies that they have stored around. This doesn’t have an immediate effect, to be sure. However, when you get the mad, hungover call the next morning of the resident yelling that some asshole got rid of all the labels and instead of some chicken noodle soup, they are having to eat heated-up sliced carrots, that little glow of satisfaction will warm your heart just a bit.

Now, if the host is ACTIVELY being a dick to you, insulting you and making your party just a miserable experience, you can opt to instead go to their bathroom and play pill roulette instead. This is a little more dangerous than basic soup roulette as you could, you know, kill someone. Be sure to only take off the labels of the pills that don’t contribute daily to someone’s continued existence (read: insulin, antidepressants, etc.). Then again, if they really shat on you, go nuts.

(Don’t go nuts. That’s murder. – ed.)

If you have access to the punch bowl which, let’s face it, you obviously will, why not try spiking the punch? “But Kaos,” you ask me, “what if it’s already alcoholic?” I would respond to you by saying to stop being such a little pussy and spike it anyways. Just because there is alcohol already in it does not mean that it cannot hold MORE alcohol. It’s not a zero-sum game. Liquor it up more and watch the panties drop like New Year’s.

At some point in the night, you are going to have to drive drunk people somewhere. It’s a given. So when you’re driving, if there’s nobody on the road, try slamming on the brakes to see how bad you can freak them out. Definitely check that A) no police are around and B) none of your passengers are in the “pre-puke” stage. Nothing would be worse than seeing the inside of your car painted with the contents of multiple bellies as a cop cites you for reckless endangerment. Lose-lose there.

Scream. Just scream. Stand in the middle of the room and scream at the top of your lungs. Try to get the bulging eyes, red face, blood vessels swelling, full on, long, high-pitched shriek going. Don’t respond to anyone who comes up to see what’s wrong. Just scream. Try to maintain it for as long as you can and then pass out. The chaos and pandemonium you will create will be legendary, I can about guarantee it.

If you really feel like fucking with drunk people, cross-dress and fuck with gender perception. Tape your sack down, wear a bra and dress, shave your legs and face, makeup up, wear a wig. Do all that. If you want to hear a frat boy curse in horror and stumble out of a room drunk and pantsless, give this a shot. On second thought, don’t do this one. The ramifications behind doing what you’re doing make me feel all oogy inside.

(You and me both. Bleh. – ed.)

Get in good with the DJ and get them to play the music backwards. The sluggishness and weirdness of the music going backwards will make the drunkies not only feel like they are way drunker than they actually are, but may actually make them think they are smarter than they actually are. They will start trying to deconstruct the meaning of the backwards lyrics of Usher’s “Bad Girl” to try to connect them to…Kierkegaard, I don’t know. Either way, it’s funny.

If all else fails, hook up. Now we’re not condoning finding the drunkest girl you can, going behind a building and engaging in some down and dirty Alley Sex (patent pending), but if there’s a moderately drunk, absolutely tiny, Japanese exchange student girl and she is so impressed by the fact that you’re DD and are decent-looking enough and she wants to play around in a hotel bedroom while other people are outside smoking cigars and drinking shit-ass beer…well…it would be irresponsible to tell you not to take advantage of her uh we mean that.

(I’m…you know, never mind. – ed.)
Okay, that’s done. I’m going to go drink some water and pop a few Excedrin to kill this thing.

(You want to clarify that we aren’t supporting date rape with that last one? – ed?)

Not really, no.

(Of course. – ed.)

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