I submitted this via e-mail maybe half a year ago, so after not hearing back I'm figuring it isn't making it to the magazine haha. Here it is for ya'll to enjoy and tear apart if you wish.
Confessions of a (Canadian) College Boy Drunkard
Life (drunk) is beautiful aint it? This is my first afternoon undrunk in four days, and it’s a Thursday. I haven’t been out at dorm parties or the strippers, that’s for the weekends, I’ve just been enjoying my days. I wish I was on my fifth but the wallets got nothing but those fuckin’ moths that flutter out.
Liquor first came to me at a young age, when down by the lake my ma’ always let me drink the first half of her beer, although I quickly downed it all like that Antarctic guy with a bottle of Crown, before she realized it was gone. It didn’t take long before drinking became a sought after ritual with me and my buddies, as each week would go into the planning of our glorious inebriated weekends at someone’s camp or house party. Summer’s were a time to drink, and drink we did, days, nights, evenings, anytime one person mentioned it we all joined in, something like a round of shots at the bar. It was then I discovered life’s better with booze, and became someone who would drink at the drop of a hat, even if it fell off my own head.
Liquor brought me my first lap dance, my first gooooood time, my first fine, and my first night in the drunk tank. Coming from the Maritimes in Canada, we tend to feel a responsibility to be able to hold our liquor and a strong reputation for drinking. It seems we all come from a long line of jolly alcoholics or boozers. But like any other enjoyable place on this earth, we just simply center everything we do around drinking.
My personal love affair exists in harmony alongside a frat house partying mentality. Many of my friends drink when there’s “something going on” or a “specific reason”, while I simply find comfort and tranquility with booze, and will drink with or without them. Life can be challenging as a young drunkard, as people tend to accuse you as an alcoholic or “worry about your future”. Truth is, I’m in more control than most, as many of them stress over exams and relationships I simply schedule mine around my drinking and never have any trouble.
You think drinking at work is enjoyable? Try it at university (which, now that I think about it, I’m sure many of you have). It’s perfect. What would normally be awkward hello’s to acquaintances in the halls easily turn into joyous greetings, and participation in discussions is a breeze. I’m not talking smashing your nose into the tiled floor hammered, I’m talking no one can tell I’m drunk but my best friend, just because he knows the signs when I’m rockin’ a buzz. The fact that he knows isn’t a problem, because myself sloppy sure aint a rare occasion, and the chances of any trouble are even rarer considering there’s a bar on campus. I’m not even sure if there’s a rule against a low blood level in your alcohol system in class.
After flask tipping at school, the day usually leads to a few at the apartment, a castle where four of my closest friends live and hold many weekly grand balls. In other words a shitty apartment that throws open houses regularly. I probably spend more time there than anywhere, as my drinking isn’t frowned upon and I’m with my pals. Once in a while the odd comment comes from one of the female residents (easily the best two gals to get sloppy with that I know of) which I easily brush off by offering them a drink of Canadian Club or Moosehead Dry, a beer many of you may not of heard of but must at some point enjoy. I’ll drink whatever’s on tap or on the table, but comparing a moose to, let’s say, a Budweiser, is incomprehensible to me, and should never occur.
Bar’s for me are the holy grail, that is if they’re selling eight dollar pitchers and thirty cent wings. I’ll go bar hoping or spend a day in one spot, but the clincher is always money. To spend an evening and night at a bar with my older stockbroker brother supporting the booze are the nights I cherish the most. To go to a dance club is alright, if you’re drunk enough to hump a whale and not get no tail. The best nights out are with a crew of the boys, just sitting around a bar shooting the shit, and the JD. When the bar closes, we usually go back to whatever beers we left at the apartment and I drink until we pass out. Those are the nights you love to forget.
I think what’s helped me with my successful life as a youngkard, but is definitely not to blame, is the drinking age of only nineteen in my province, and eighteen in many others surrounding it. This means since I was seventeen standing six feet tall, a confident stroll into the liquor store produced whatever booze my pals and I needed. It was a rush at times, coming up with a believable story of a lost id or stolen wallet, but failure just meant a drive to the next liquor store where success usually was attained.
Okay I’m heading out to get sloppy I’ll report back in the morning and sum up this article.
(insert 24 hours)
Last night I got unreasonably drunk with the usual crew. Starting up late, just after dinner, I dove head first into a case of Moose Dry along with some rogue beers and half a bottle of Canadian Club. My blackout began sometime after making out with my girlfriends best friend, but before things exploded in my inebriated face and a fight with my girlfriend ensued. I’ve been told it was ugly, like a gorilla getting hit by a transport. It ended in a “fuck you” from her as she stumbled out the door and as I reached for my bottle of CC. All around it was a pretty average night with an average outcome, just good times in the Maritimes as they say. Things are nice and smoothed out by now, some sixteen undrunk (not hammered but not actually undrunk) hours later and I’m down a girlfriend but up on my free time. Makes me want another beer, nah, maybe I’ll drink CC again tonight.
Life as a college boy drunkard can be tough, but it’s usually just an all around good time. From the back of sheriff wagons to threats of interventions, I wouldn’t change a thing. I gotta run, my glass is only half full. Cheers.
I like to drink beer and smoke Cig-a-rettes.