Photo Illustration by Alex McDougall/Oregon Daily Emerald

Teach a man to drink and he’ll get drunk all night. Teach that same man how to drink an entire case by himself, and you’ve got yourself the picture-perfect image of the college man.

It was 8:00 p.m. on a Friday night in January and the college herd had migrated home for winter break. The lure of home cooked meals and much-needed coddling by the parent entity had driven many to the security of the homestead. Not I, though. I had decided to stay in college town, USA because that was home to me. It was the one place where neither my past nor my future would ever find me. But it was desolate.

Fortunately, however, I was not alone. There were 24 friends waiting for me in the fridge, beckoning for me to come and play.  You usually don’t have to question yourself at this point. The act of drinking comes naturally when you are in college. The first, second, third, and seventh beer went down the hatch without so much as a whimper from my conscience.  This is college, right? We drink rain or shine, in sickness or health, and even sometimes when we are alone.  The totality of the booze religion has taught us how to consume like wild animals and nowhere did it ever say that mass consumption was limited in presence of thyself.  When you are taught to party hard you frequently forget that 12 beers is a lot for the “normal” human.

So there it was, me, myself and I, raging drunk in my apartment. This behavior would continue for weeks, until at last, the party made its way back to me. Endless boozy nights hunkered down in the warmth of solitude, still sucking the tit of the hopeless party dream.  But what do you expect?  It’s hard to turn the switch on and off.

The Thin Line In The Sand

We are given the classification of college students, which declares—for the most part – that our absurd drinking habits are in no way to be deemed alcoholism but rather the misfit antics of rebellious youth who’ve been told one too many times “no, no booze is bad for you!”  And this is true – for the most part. However, what most often goes unnoticed is the time when drinking leaves the realms of “Oh how fun” and enters the darkened reality that sociologists, counselors, and psychologists speak about in their anti-binge drinking propaganda.

The line is often blurred. We can condone the angsty behavior as long as we are witness to it. But when someone decides to take what they’ve learned behind locked doors, it becomes all together intolerable.  Unfortunately, we are unaware that some are incapable of discerning the difference between alcoholism and good old fashioned college fun.

The margin is so small. At times I am sure you have found yourself – or someone you know – indulging in the vice of drinking a bit too hard. All the while they are flying under the flag of college students in order to make their behavior seem less distressing. But this shit is real.

For the entire month of January, I didn’t leave my house. The only exception was my daily trip to the gas station to grab beer and cigarettes.   I wasn’t an alcoholic and I still don’t consider myself one to this day.  However, for a very brief moment in my life I had become trapped. I felt my daily ritual of drinking 12-15 beers was in no way alcoholism,  just part of the holistic experience deemed “college”. In that context, it’s easy to convince yourself that life is one big party and you are simply  keeping up with the lifestyle.

The trouble with college drinking is not that we drink, it’s that we use just about anything as an excuse to drink. And when we do, we use a simple formula: (amount) X (consumption rate). Regardless of what you plug in, it always equals shitfaced.  Of course, you can’t apply these drinking methods to the real world. The ways in which we have learned to consume do not translate beyond the college world. However, there will be times we find ourselves entertaining the idea of mass consumption, when ultimately we have jumped the tracks and are headed down a path of  self-absorbed destructive habits.

It’s only after you’ve distanced yourself from those times in your life that you think– shit – that was an alcoholic moment, and it happened to me!  And then you realize the entire premise you have built your college career on (cough, cough – drinking) can easily snap under stress, depression, or heartache, and can turn sour quicker than you expected.

You don’t need a specialist to tell you when you’ve crossed the line. That tiny voice in your head will alarm you to your startling behavior. It’s really up to you to acknowledge it. Take it from me; there are some thrills that are best kept shared with friends and family. Drinking alone, in such quantities is alcoholism.

The post The Carouser Wire: A Spat of Alcoholism appeared first on The Campus Companion Party Lab.

Jeepers Creepers:

This one is obvious. Joe Schmo gets a fifth of Bacardi in him and all of sudden he can pick up any girl. His tactics are invasive, disturbing, and downright creepy.  A typical pick up line goes something like “You are so beautiful that I want to be reincarnated as your child so that I can breast-fed by you until I’m 20.” Inevitably these creeps will go for the unexpected boob or ass grope, and you’ll have to banish them from the party.

The Bro Complex:

Guys in fraternities are most guilty of this. Everytime they get drunk, the bro comes out. Like some weird-ass version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, they instantly turn into the stereotypical party-driven male who feels the need to act like a complete douchebag.  As if their mannerisms weren’t already horrendous, you have to listen to them quote shit that Dom Mazzetti says all night.

Party Groupies:

Girls that live (and die) by every lyric Ke$ha has ever written fall into this category.  They show up to your party in glittery dresses and are slaves to the party environment. They literally live for Friday and Saturday nights. They are a fun bunch to have around because they like to party hard, but goddamn if they don’t always end up in your bathroom puking their brains out because they went a little too hard with the Jack Daniels.

Nympho Madness:

Some people can’t keep their sex parts in their pants when they start drinking.  These drunken party characters are always looking for a good romp in the sack. You’ll open your bathroom door, bedroom closet, or kitchen pantry to find them going at it. The blasted nymphos can get annoying at times and will find yourself reiterating the phrase “get a room!” more than once during the party.

Child’s Play:

It goes without saying that some drinkers become childish when they consume booze.  You’re trying to have an adult party, and they think it’s time to revert back to age 5. Then you have to spend the whole night trying to qualm their childish antics, as if you’re the babysitter. Sometimes they can be a hoot to party with, but mostly you’re left wishing they’d stop singing Disney songs and climbing on your couch likes it is a jungle gym.

 Cry Me a River:

Drunks with extreme emotional problems; I hate this type of partier. Halfway through their six glass of wine, they start bringing out the heavily repressed issues. What starts out as an emotional rant quickly turns into a full on cry session. Then you have to spend the entire party being a counselor, helping them get over whatever pent up emotions they have bottled up. I would advise not inviting these type of people to your parties.  

Party Heroes:

There is always one of these at every party, the kids who will do anything to make a name for themselves. While everyone is trying to mingle and have a good time, the party heroes are off trying to devise the craziest party shenanigans to impress the crowd. This is how butt chugging all began. As much as their performances are admirable, at times they can become taxing because they will always be trying to one up each other.

 The Future Lung Cancer Candidates:

Ever wonder why your front porch is littered with cigarette butts after every party? The anti-social smokers are to blame. You know the kids I am speaking of. The ones who post up all night smoking an entire carton of ciggies, sipping on their beer, while engaging in long drawn out conversation on the real meaning of the American way of life. Unfortunately, the assholes never clean up after themselves.

The Rambling Talkers:

STFU comes to mind when I think about these types of drunks. Those people who wind on about any and every topic under the sun. One too many shots, and you have a chatterbox who doesn’t have an off switch. There is never a good way to escape the grips of the ramblings, and you are usually stuck listening to some god awful mantra about the economic crisis America is currently in. The best way to deal with these people is to turn their talking into a drinking game.

The Performance Artists:

God I love these people.  Get the booze flowing and, all of a sudden, you’ve set the stage for these drunks to make you laugh. As if they are performing at The Apollo, your party has now become the outlet for them to express their funny side. They will always have a group of people rolling on the floor and are great entertainment for everyone who isn’t playing beer bong, smoking on the porch, or fucking in your bathroom. 

The post Party Characters: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly appeared first on The Campus Companion Party Lab.

Boozing on a budget isn’t easy. When it comes to spending money, college students are similar to the federal government: We frivolously piss away funds we don’t have on weekends of pleasure. All the while we are accruing credit card and loan debts at an alarming rate trying to pay for the institutions that basically promote the act of drinking.  It’s a deadly cycle, and at times it can be rough scrounging up money to pay for our habit.

Fortunately, we are ingenious when it comes to finding ways to get booze. The party must go on, and come hell or high water, the solo cup will be filled with the delicious nectar that fuels our fun. The art of getting cheap booze doesn’t always have to involve pushing the boundaries of your financial budget, though. The following are some ways in which you can get booze practically free: 

Prison Style:

Gather the following:

• Trash bag
• Fruit juice
• Bread.

Pour the fruit juice into the bag, and add the bread. Tie it up tight, and toss it under your bed. In a month you’ll have good old fashion prison hooch. For those brave enough to digest the wretched concoctions, the spoils of your hard work will yield endless amounts of cheap booze.   

The Vagina Effect:

Women, you know what I am talking about. You don’t even have to use the damn thing; the simple fact that you have a vagina gets you tons of free booze. Milk it for what it’s worth. If you can play your cards right, you’ll never have to spend a dime at the bar. Just be cautious of who you are taking drinks from, because sometimes they come with a catch.

Liar, Liar Pants on Fire:

This is shameful, but I’ve been guilty of it. Lying to get booze can often be an effective method. So maybe your dad isn’t a senator, and you’ve never served in the military. The sorry sucker you are commandeering booze from won’t ever know the difference.  Just be careful you have a good backstory. People will ask questions!

The Booze Snatcher:

This is by far the best way to save money on booze while still maintaining some dignity. When you are scanning the list of potential parties to attend Friday night, look for the BYOB type of parties.  Go to your local quickie mart and buy yourself a 40 oz. bottle of malt liquor. Then, show up at the party acting a little bit tipsy, while sippin’ on the 40.  Befriend as many people as you can early in the party. Now here is the trick. Leave just enough liquid in the 40 oz. for it to look like you are almost done.

If you’ve done the leg work, every time you walk up and approach a group of people you have  befriended beforehand, they should notice your almost out. One of them will offer you a cold brew.  You can bounce around from group to group at the party doing this. Of course, if they aren’t buying your gag, steal their booze when they’re not looking.

Drunkorexia:

Too soon?  It goes without saying that if you don’t eat all day, and then drink – you’re about to get wasted. Of course, the less you have to drink to get drunk, the less money you will spend. In all seriousness this isn’t recommended for anyone, but it sure nice knowing you only have to drink 5 beers to get drunk.

Drinking in college has never been about spending lavishly; it’s been more about drinking resourcefully. Consider all option when you go to spend money on booze, and remember: there is almost always a way to get free booze.  

The post Booze on a Budget: The Dirty Deeds of Getting Drunk For Free appeared first on The Campus Companion Party Lab.

Credit: Poor People Pub

She is coming. The news anchor has repetitiously announced this for the last 10 hours. I cannot help from watching the continued coverage. The barrage of reporting is numbing but the hype is addicting. She is predicted to be a cruel and vicious bitch, they say. Originating somewhere in the bowels of the Caribbean, no one is ready for the whirlwind wench.  Like an ex-girlfriend of mine, she is going from town to town fucking everyone in sight.

Hurricane Sandy, the most feared storm system to hit the eastern seaboard since 1991’s “Perfect Storm,” is barreling towards us. The fear that the public and government officials feel is apparent with the closing of schools, work places, and government offices.  

 I am writing this story in a last minute teeth grinding frenzy. The squalls are lapping the beating rain against the window. There is only hours before all power is lost and I will be left in the dark hole of my apartment, gripping a bottle of wild turkey, and riding the storm out. I am not alone.

The core of the college youth affected by the storm are following suit. Last night, universities up and down the eastern coast began closing. Of course, this has given way to a slew of hurricane themed parties that will rage into Tuesday afternoon.  On the eve of such devastation, drinking is a priority on the minds of college kids.

While most citizens are frantically combing stores for water, food, and survival gear, we have but one thing on our mind – booze. Whatever fear we subconsciously feel is masked by the rush of alcohol to the brain. With nothing left to do but sit and wait, drinking is the only fulfilling activity we can conjure up.  Like heathens in the midst of a naturalistic séance, we gather to greet the storm.  Booze in hand; we are unswayed by the hell coming our way.

 This is made obvious by the numerous drinking games circulating the web already. With articles such as this and this, there is no doubt that people are using the storm as a form of entertainment. And why not?  With no work, school, or forms of social media to keep us busy, we are left with nothing besides our friends and a case of booze.  

Hurricane Sandy is no different than most events in college – an excuse to drink. It is the perfect example of college kids doing what they do best: making the most out of a crappy situation.  While everyone is frantically jumping at the hype, we are simply preparing ourselves for a bout of simplicity. There is nothing more wholesome than sitting in the dark with friends, drinking, and telling stories into the night.

In preparation for Hurricane Sandy, I have done the following:

-Established my apartment as a Hurricane relief station. We are prepared with a copious amount of alcohol for those who’ve run dry.

- I have tied a boat to a tree outside. It will come in handy if all chaos breaks loose and I need to row to the local liquor store.

- I have also written a wordy email to my local governmental officials stressing the need to close everything for the entire week as the devastating hangover from Sandy will make it impossible to recuperate by Wednesday.

-Finally, I have made it a priority to invite an even amount of men and women to hold up in the apartment in case all humanity is washed away, and we are stuck with the task of repopulating the earth.

 Now, I urge you to be safe. Enjoy the company of your friends, drink your free day away, but do it with a bit of sanity. Make sure you are prepared for the worst. There is no telling how bad the hurricane will be, but no one wants to be the drunken asshole when the shit hits the fan.  Hunker down, hold on, and get ready – here comes Sandy.

The post Strange Ramblings in the Midst of Hurricane Sandy appeared first on The Campus Companion Party Lab.

Since the 1960’s, a long standing and often hostile relationship has existed between college students and police authorities. The radicalism that fueled the 60’s and 70’s gave way to a new approach by which the cops now control the youth of this nation. The radical movements are gone, and with no real war to fight, the pigs are still seeking their thrills.

It was a Thursday night.  The five of us — Scotty, Bridgett, Roberto, Jane, and myself – were in no mood for the bar scene.  We were held up in a small apartment off campus, and things were going haywire. We were 5 drunken monkeys with no qualms about tearing the place to shreds. Long bouts of drinking games had turned us raving wild.   

During the madness we had failed to recognize that Scotty and Jane had disappeared. The door to the back bedroom was closed and locked and from the noise coming through the other side we knew all too well what was going on.

The two had succumbed to lust and had called it a night far too early for our taste. Roberto and I had no intention of letting the two slip away into the night. When knocking and hollering for them to come out didn’t work, we resorted to new tactics. A volley of condiments from the refrigerator was our answer. The door to the bedroom began to be coated in a thin layer of ketchup, mustard and chocolate syrup. When they failed to produce themselves, we decided that a forced entry was our only answer. We used the empty shell of a keg to ram the bedroom door. Charge after charge we  bludgeoned the portal, to no avail.  The lovers kept shagging without missing a beat.

Roberto had given it his all to keep the gathering alive, but was now finished. He grabbed Bridgett, and the two escaped into another room to do the nasty.

I was all alone now. I was stuck in the middle of a goddamn brothel with nothing to keep me occupied except a bottle of vodka. Needless to say, I was unhappy that everyone had abandoned me. It was only 10:30 p.m. The house was in shambles and everyone was in the throes of an illustrious sex session. I had no option; I was forced to the couch to pass out.

Within seconds there was a knock on the door. Assuming that it was a neighbor coming to see what the commotion had been, I casually unlocked the door.

Before I could even get the door open, it was kicked in my face and a flurry of blue suits flooded into the apartment. “Freeze!” they screamed. As one of them grabbed me and firmly pressed me against the wall, a parade of 10 cops filled the flat. From the windows I could tell that at least 4 other cops were outside, shining their light in. A battalion  had surrounded us.

Needless to say, I was confused. There was no reason for such force, especially for what I assumed was your average neighborly noise complaint. Within minutes, it became obvious that this was not your everyday police bust of a party.

The cop that had me began shouting “where are the women!?”, “where are the women!?” I pointed to the back bedroom.

Like something you’d see in a Hollywood movie, they began clearing the house. In the first room, Bridgett and Roberto were waiting. A women cop was the first to enter.  I heard the shrieks from Bridgett. The cop had walked in on their love making. “Get up!” screamed the lady cop, a command she would certainly regret. She withdrew herself from the room when Roberto got up and began drunkenly stumbling towards her, dick in hand. She ordered him to cloth himself, but the bastard would not submit.

The cop, who had yet to release his grip of me, began questioning. It quickly became evident why the cops were invading the home. It appeared that the combination of loud sex and the commotion of partying had frightened the neighbors so bad, they assumed a domestic abuse case was unraveling next store. It didn’t help that the apartment looked like a crack den.

There was only one room left to search. The surrealistic nightmare waiting behind the door was more than any of us could ever fathom.  The cops couldn’t have asked for a more perfect scene if they dreamt it. 

The cops busted down the door and within minutes I knew something was horribly wrong. “We need an ambulance!” cried one of the officers. The whole flat came alive with the bustle of cops.  

And then we saw it. As they pulled Jane from the room, she was covered in blood. The cops began examining her, but they could not find wounds. The bewildered look on her face gave away the fact that she had no idea why she was bleeding either.

Once it was settled that the blood covering Jane was not her own, they brought Scotty out from the room. He looked like he had bathed in blood. With his hands cuffed behind his back and shirt unbuttoned, he resembled Charles Manson. His nose was pouring blood.

It was at this moment, we all connected the dots. No one had said it, but we knew what had happened. The two in the backroom had been having the most foul and sadistic of sex that somewhere in the commotion, Scotty had busted his nose. In their drunken state, neither had noticed the obscene amount of blood they were rolling around in.

Of course how does one explain this to the police, who are hell bent on making this the next big news story? You simply try, and with a bit of luck they’ll believe this was all an act of fun.

The damn fools wouldn’t take that for an answer. They went through the whole gag. Were we drug addicts or pimps running a prostitution ring? No amount of explanation would ever be good enough for them. Their tones were hostile and with every passing minute, we were brutality threatened with being hauled off to jail.

An hour passed as they pressed us for an answer. I will never be sure what they were looking for, but we all knew they were looking for someone to take the fall.  This we knew all too well. Even though they were aware no crime had been committed, they needed fresh blood.  They pressed on into the night, until the entire scene snapped. 

Fortunately, Scotty stepped up to the plate. Coyly, he looked up at the lady cop and uttered “nice fucking bun.” She was enraged about the hair comment, and forcefully escorted him outside.   The herd pounced, glad to finally get their rock off. The rest of us were let off with a warning that night, but Scotty didn’t fare so well.

College kids are prime pickings for the police; more so than drug junkies, and blue and white collar criminals. In the minds of cops there is no better pleasure than showing the punks whose boss, and they do.  There is undoubtedly a need to keep social order, but at what cost does civility need to go out the window?

The post The Busted Party: A Mistaken Case Of Domestic Abuse appeared first on The Campus Companion Party Lab.

Heroes get remembered, but legends never die: a drinking mantra many live by come Friday nights in college towns across the nation. Bigger, bolder, and wilder are words that have come to define this generation’s insatiable party habit. There is no satisfaction in drinking anymore, unless some unbelievable shit goes down. Let’s face it, the heydays of your parent’s college drinking experience would seem like child’s play nowadays. 

But why is this?

We can thank Hollywood. Hollywood knows their addicts all too well, and they play to it. They have set forth the standards of debauchery, and we strive to meet their expectations. Our relentless masturbation to everything booze related is a sickness.

If art imitates life, and then life imitates art – we are fucked. Everyone knows Hollywood loves to exaggerate the boundaries of human capabilities. But what does this mean for impressionable college drinkers like us?

It means we are caught up in a deadly cycle in which the boundary of alcohol intake is constantly pushed. It’s a frantic game of tennis in which our party lifestyle is projected back on us – supersized – and is often met with deadly consequences.

 The following are feats of college drinking that have culminated from the influence of Hollywood and our own willingness to put a night of glory over personal safety. We challenge movie-makers so they can challenge us right back, and here’s how…

1. The Double-Beer Shotgun

2. The Balcony Beer Bong

CHUG, CHUG, CHUG! The average beer bonger is accustomed to funneling down 1 or 2 beers at once.  The popularization of the balcony beer bong by Hollywood has increased this number tenfold. Chugging 8 to10 beers in less than a minute is undoubtedly a great human achievement. The sheer force of liquid flowing from 4 stories up is enough to knock most anyone on their ass. Yet, the balcony beer bong is common sight around campus, especially on game day.  For the average male, one of these would give them a BAC of 0.189%.  

3. The Strikeout

Made famous by the movie Beerfest, the strikeout is a salute to the truly hardened partier. It is mastered as follows: take a rip from the bong and while holding the smoke in, chug an entire beer, follow with a shot, then exhale the smoke. They call it the strikeout because after successfully finishing one of these, you’ll be out. Those who can accomplish this feat are proud to say they’ve done so. A search of YouTube will give you a good idea of just how amazing people think this is.  

4. The Butt Chug

This is something no one saw coming. All credit goes to Jackass star Steve-O for the butt chug. Most people find the oral approach of consuming alcohol a perfectly fitting way to get drunk. Recently, there are those who’ve begun reviving this method of drinking, and it hasn’t been pretty. Shoving a tube up your ass to get drunk is hardly the rage; however those looking for some spotlight are daring enough to risk death for it. I won’t even go into the medical issues associated with trying this, but needless to say, it’s horrible for you.  

5. The Party-Turned-Riot

The mentality of your party guest is always something to keep in the back of your mind. With the never ending call to drink more and more, party hosts are finding it harder to maintain a respectable party environment.  Movies like Project X aren’t helping. When we see a party so big that it is transformed into a riot, we inevitably find it cool. Thus, any party worth going to must end with mass destruction and police clad in full riot gear.  The college riot has been transformed into a trophy which the collegiate youth strive to attain.

 Any of these acts are sure to get people buzzing. Social Media is jammed packed of videos and pictures of daredevils, hoping to make a name for themselves. With a bit of luck, they triumph in pushing limits of human conscience.

 We leave behind a legacy upon completion of college. Our trashy, booze-ridden nights may have been all but lost to ourselves, but the evidence is still there. We are constantly pushing the realms of what is capable, and soon there is no telling how low we will stoop. The line between reality and fiction is blurred, but we must be able to recognize the difference. Just because Hollywood says man can fly, doesn’t mean he can. Remember that. Cheers! 

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