The Possible States Of Drunk

Posted: August 21, 2011 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , , , , ,

So you’re going to get drunk. Wonderful. We approve. Douse your internal fire with alcoholic liquors, liqueurs, beers, wines…Jello shots. Whatever gets your liver dick hard. It’s all good. However, being drunk comes along with its own risks. Aside from the bodily damage that comes part and parcel with drinking (we’re all dying slowly so what’s accelerating it anyways?), the chief concern is of which personality you will take on while in your pursuit of drunken whoring. Let me explain. While drunk, nobody retains their sober, everyday persona. It just doesn’t happen. All of your flaws become either magnified or disappear in favor of other, more glaring and oppressive flaws. Even beyond that, there are various stock personae that most people can and will fill in, sort of like a sloppy clay figure mold. These, my friends, are who you could become, were the situation to warrant it.

Giggly: This is most definitely a hit-or-miss proposition. On one hand, any aspiring comedians in the bunch that you happen to be drinking with (we’re going to assume for the purposes of this article that all of these states of mind will occur while with other people, as opposed to sad and drinking alone) will receive a wonderful ego boost from you when you laugh at his stupid fucking joke about why airlines need to provide larger bathrooms. On the other, you will get really annoying really quick when you start snickering when a sobbing friend starts detailing her father’s chemo treatments. If the words “cancer”, “AIDS”, “abortion”, “breakup”, “heart” or “Obama” come up, walk the fuck away before you do any serious damage.

Depressed: The other side of the Janus coin with Giggly. Depressed means that NOTHING is funny to you. At all. A fucking Ku Klux Klan member could accidentally ignite his hateful cowl and be running around the room, howling like a burning turd got stuck in his buttpipe, while other drunkards laugh and take out their various members to attempt to extinguish the flames with righteous urine and you would be sitting in the corner, sipping on your damn Bud Light, feeling nothing but darkness swarm around your head. You, good sir or madam, are a downer.

Suicidal: The logical extension of the depression lot, the suicidal means that the booze is making nothing seem like it’s worth living for. Not the warm feeling in your brain. Not the constant throbbing erection you get from drunk girlfriends making out to fulfill a tawdry bet. Nothing. You are even more of a downer. Just sleep it off and pray for actual death in the morning when your head feels like a Macy’s Parade float and your bed is soaked in pee.

Horny: This is not your normal “Oh hey, I kinda want to blow my load on someone’s face/tits/ass/various other body parts” level horny. This is nuclear-grade, white-hot “If I don’t put my penis in or on something female tonight, it will literally explode. I will become a Ken doll” horny. This is horny that leads to choices like taking home a ‘trail mix’ woman. You know, the ‘grab bag’. One with alligator teeth, rhino horn, hippo ass…um…snake vagina. Bad news, basically. So if you feel the stirring in the nethers while drunk, especially one that feels like a turbine starting to rev up, get the hell out of wherever you are, turn on some Naughty America at home and fire one off into a beach towel because toilet paper will offer you no protection from the…ahem…coming fireworks.

Rage: It’s difficult to qualify how one comes to this particular state because it is 100% predicated on external influences. You could already be mad about various events throughout the day so anything further is just going to set you off like a car bomb in the middle of Tehran. OR you could be in any one of these other moods but something could happen – a spilled beer, a blown tackle, the bartender fingering your girlfriend behind the salad bar – and you will explore into a beast aflame. Here’s where you start to test out the verbosity you somehow have acquired that directly relates to how many curse words and different variations you can link in a stream of invective. For example: “Why don’t you fucking eat a rotten dick, you shit-staining, ass-sucking, cock-pulling son of a cum-stained whore?” Or something along those lines. Rage allows you to reach maximum hate, verbally.

Violent: Annnnnnd Rage kicks it up a notch. Words no longer are able to be formed. Instead, you have reverted to the primal reptilian state where the only things you can say are grunts and punching. This is where tables are broken, windows shattered, asses kicked and noses bloodied. This is the state of drunk where you are impervious to pain, instead using whatever hurts as further fuel for the jet engine that is your anger coursing through your body. You are in full Hulk fugue and only a cheap shot or electricity can Bruce Banner you once more.

Arrested: As you go from Rage to Violent, you soon transition from Violent to Arrested, less a state of mind and more a state of being.

Chatty: Certainly the least undesirable of the options at hand. When you are in this state, Miss Alcohol has reached her sweet little hand into the very depths of your brain and personality and found the little button that controls your inhibitions and with a quick press of her finger, turns that button completely the fuck off. When you are Chatty, you find social situations that normally would play your anxieties like a well-tuned theremin are no longer so onerous. In fact, you may well find yourself engaging in activities that in a sober state would leave you embarrassed and haunted, such as beer pong, playing Shot for Shot, or perhaps even fucking a sorority girl up the butt as she is bent over her school-furnished dresser. On second thought, Chatty is pretty damn awesome.

Offensive: Unfortunately, Chatty has a dark side that is revealed after time. When the inhibitions are shut off, it does truly create a situation where although you may be able to be more gregarious, you also lose that well-honed ‘Should I Say This?’ that normally keeps you out of trouble. That means that, say, were you to happen upon an unfortunate individual whose struggles with a recurring venereal disease have been socially documented, where in a normal situation you would give them a friendly hello and a nod to let them know that you still value them as a member of society, here in Offensive Mode is where you will instead start applauding and yelling ‘Clap on! Clap off! It’s the Clapper!’, creating a very unpleasant social meme for the person for the duration of their college life. Well done, asshole.

Philosophical: We’ve all been there. Drunk and sitting on the Quad, watching the sun rise. Rambling incoherently about the nature of being. Believing that words of gold drip from our tongues as we contemplate just what it means to be human. Yes, friends. You are Philosophically Drunk and you will have no damn idea what the hell you were talking about as soon as you sober up.

Messy: You are just so damn mad at your fucking suitcase. Go away, suitcase! To hell with your being on the bed! Until the next morning when you realize all your shit was in that suitcase and now you have to clean it up hungover. Awesome.

Rogue: Unless you have experience dealing with someone that falls into this category (Pred3000, cough), you can’t really understand what it is about. On any drunk night at any given time, the Rogue can be any and all of the above. Angry one minute, sleeping the next. Offering to burn CDs one minute, screaming Guns ‘n’ Roses the next. Jabbering on about the social implications of music one minute, trying vainly to hit on a girl the next. The Rogue is just that: rogue. You cannot accurately predict the state of drunk this person will be in until they are already in it. It’s both very funny and dangerous.

Batshit Fucking Insane: The worst of the lot. All I can say for this one is that if you have experienced someone in the throes of it, you will understand. For the rest of you, God help you.

You may not always choose to get drunk and you may not always find sites with helpful advice for you, but when you do…make it Dan Eats Cat Food. Deuces.

  1. Anna says:

    When I get drunk I either just want to dance for hours on end until I literally die from dancing too much, or I get overtly critical of everyone around me. Which is most impressive considering by the stage I, myself, am usually much too drunk to do anything coherantly. Pot and kettle and all that shizzle.

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