Drunk Cliches and Why They Don’t (Okay, Sometimes) Actually Happen

Posted: June 25, 2011 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , ,

It is no secret that we here at Dan Eats Cat Food appreciate and love Mother Alcohol and all the warmth and healing she provides. However, it has become increasingly obvious to us that many of our readers simply do not understand how she works, instead choosing to rely on age-old cliches to give them some sense of knowledge about the topic. Luckily, we’re here for you. We’re going to either Mythbust or agree with various cliches, depending on which are real or just the funniest. Warning: Knowledge About To Be Imparted…Bitches.
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We’re going to start off with the most lame and least-actually-used “oh ha ha he/she/tranny was so drunk” cliche: the lampshade on the head. Frankly, this one makes no sense, at least not to me. First off, if there’s the absolute necessity to place something on your head, there are plenty of things around. Hats. Underwear. A drunk co-ed. A lampshade is the least reasonable option around. Yet for some reason, hack-ass writers use the lampshade on the head to show how wild a party got. I mean, a fucking LAMPSHADE. Nobody is going to get that drunk and if they DO, they want to be having sex instead of wearing furniture. Or having sex WITH furniture. This one got a little out of hand.

Next up, we have kind of a two-part one. The first part is simple: get some booze in you and you instantly think that you are so very sharp and witty. Okay, this is pretty misleading. You see, it only makes people who AREN’T normally sharp and witty believe that they suddenly become so. If you are already sharp and witty, as in, well let’s say myself, the alcohol only makes you even more so. It’s like this: you can’t teach a panda to use power tools but if you have a dog with really strong teeth, you can coat them in steel to make his bite even nastier. You get it?

Off of that one, you also have the mental traintracks helping you believe that you can consume much more alcohol than you can. This one is actually true. At least for the menfolk, we have the surprising ability to take in a lot of booze at once but our iron bodies portion it out over time. That means that we can shotgun a sixer of whatever shitty beer a party has, feel nothing, and move to shots of tequila off the sociology professor’s tits before we start to feel drunk at all. That also means that we get nailed a lot harder when it all hits full force, leading to mornings where you wake up to find that you’ve fucked the sociology professor and her daughter and are subsequently in danger of being arrested. Also known as “Thursday morning”.

The next two also sort of relate. Though I personally have not experienced it, many men (and even some women) tend to utilize the phenomenon known as beer goggles. For those not “in the know”…the hell are you doing here? I’ll explain anyway. It’s the concept that as you drink more, dealbreaker flaws in people you find repulsive while sober start to go away. Well, not so much go away as you stop caring about them. A huge rat’s nest of hair? All the better to wrap your hands in as you do the nasty – literally. Looks like she got hit in the face with the Ugly Flamethrower? You can do it dog-style – again, literally. So large that you’re actually startled that aircraft carriers can fit into buildings? Well…

That brings us to the second part and a personal favorite term of Raybestos: hoggin’. Hoggin’ does not describe putting yourself into a girl that may have a few extra pounds. Hoggin’ does not describe doing it to a girl who may have let herself go just a tad. Hoggin’ doesn’t even mean taking one for the team and distracting Miss Cornfield USA with a few digits in the bowling ball holes while your bro seals the deal with her hot cousin from out of town who happens to like beer and horror movies and fucking without a condom. Hoggin’ means that you get drunk as a pisser, find the closest thing to a Death Star that you can find and pump a weak, terrified load onto breasts that look like turkey platters before Thanksgiving. Some people say that there’s no way no sex can be preferable to bad sex. Hoggin’ proves them wrong, you poor bastard.

Once men get drunk enough, oftentimes they are able to express feelings and sentiments unthinkable whilst in a sober state. This is the “I love you man” Syndrome and, honestly…it’s pretty common. Pred3000 is a great example of this, many times being compelled by the drink to explain that he loves us boys (not that he ‘loves boys’, mind you) and appreciates us being there. It’s kind of sweet. That is, it’s sweet until we pour more booze down his throat and get him started ranting on pop culture in which case he turns into a raging firemonster of pseudo-hipster elitism and sociological condemnation. Also known as the funniest shit in the world.

Some people believe that all you do when you’re drunk and alone is just drunk text people you like. That is completely untrue. There’s also incredibly difficult masturbation. But yes, there are drunk texts too, especially poorly-envisioned ones where you end up accidentally telling a girl that you want to put it in her ass – not hard and not all of it and just for a couple seconds – and that you’d be willing to trade a lick-job and some booze that you no longer have for it. This is also known as the “I Deserve A Damn Restraining Order” strategy so popular with today’s youth and such.

One that is not mentioned as often as it most often pertains to the artistic type, but many times boozeahol can induce feelings of creative omnipotence. These are usually fits of about half hour stints of really being focused on writing and coming up with incredible stories and characters and plotlines. It’s only the next day that you wake up and find the sheet of paper you scribbled on covered with incomprehensible words and phrases and probably some pictures of either boobs or dicks. You also find out that you pissed off half your hall because you had to tell everyone about your wonderful idea. Good show.

Ah yes. Whiskey dick. Schroedinger’s Penis. Having either a permanent erection or de-rection, depending on how much you have imbibed. The fact is, booze makes people hornier than a mutated rhino. If you’re a guy, you have to hit that sweet spot of drunk with your ladyfriends where you are turned on enough that you won’t go soft but not too drunk for it to deflate like a rapidly cooling french fry. It’s a bit of a gamble. Too little and you may not be able to handle yourself. Too much and it’s the Midnight Train down to Impotenceville. Enjoy your ride.

Puking. Yeah, there’ll probably be puking.

Finally, you have your hangover. Everyone’s hangover is different. For some, light is like stabbing them in the eyes with needles. For others, there are relentless headaches. There’s also puking again. And the inevitable social consequences. And having to run back and forth to the bathroom all day because your guts are bubbling like a witch’s damn cauldron. Huh. Hangovers make drinking not fun. Why do we have them? Oh yeah. Because without them, every asshole would be drunk every night. That’s why. It takes a special kind of asshole to ignore the hangovers. Number one, baby!
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I guess the point of the article is pretty simple.

It is, of course: stay in school.

Now I’mma run before Ed gets back and finds that I’ve gotten into the writing machine again. Quiet deuces.

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