In MY Day, We BONGED Our Beer Like Civilized Human Beings

Alexainie is clearly already hammered enough to be really excited about her new beer delivery system
Guy named Bond holding my bong

Jennifer Brown look what you made me do. Now everyone is going to know I attended college parties dressed like Minnie Mouse. But that is neither here nor there, because when you told your touching story of Banana Hammock and his famous keg stand, you brought tears to this retired Beerology student’s bloodshot eyes.

These pictures are from the night I shotgunned my first and only beer. It was precious. I remember it tickled my throat and a little foam shot out my nose, but I was enough of a natural to impress the hockey team (I posit this to be a result of their usual female companions being more the sort to sip Strawberry Boones Farm and then proceed to follow them around all night, just drunk enough to throw shade at any girl who

  1. Didn’t seem to give a shit that they’d arrived on the arm of a hockey stud
  2. Didn’t seem to give a shit that hockey was invented

and then spend the entire night trying to get said stud to admit he was screwing the girl who didn’t GAF about hockey because EVERYBODY cares about hockey and so clearly some trickery was afoot because LIES.)

Anyway, I digress. (backing up)…I was enough of a natural that my buddy Brian (who did NOT play hockey) immediately announced that I was graduating to the beer bong.

I had never seen a beer bong. At first, having been raised in the middle of the Matanuska Thunder Fuck communal garden, I thought I was about to become a member of some super-duper secret society dedicated to smoking alcohol (or maybe I’m just able to predict the future).

Then, Bond came over. He had a giant contraption and a six pack of Bud Light (yes. Bud Light. and yes. a six pack) and he issued me a challenge. I think there was some sort of prize if I succeeded, but I don’t remember what. Because I don’t ever need to know what. I am unable to back away from a challenge.

We were going to be timed, he and I.

3 beers each. No pauses.

So, I wasn’t going to lose. Not even if we were using Bond’s bong (say that 5 times fast. Now shotgun a Beast. Now say it 5 more times. No, I’m not cleaning up your puke. )

Bond’s HOMEMADE bong. Of which he was the master.

I was totally chill. Look how chill I was in that picture. I showed no fear.

Nope. Cause I don’t lose. So anyway,

I didn’t lose.

and I don’t remember anything else from that night.

And that’s the reason you can still order a pitcher and drink it like a lady

and I cannot. ;)

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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