I can’t tell you how sick I am of hearing people boast over how drunk they got the night before (“Duuuuuuuuuude! I was soooo wasted!!!”). And when I mention the word “boast” you would automatically assume that there would be some sort of accomplishment or feat that had transpired, like, “I totally made out with that hot blonde chick I was talking to,” or “I drank a 12-pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade and then did 14 back handsprings on the sidewalk.”
But you’d be wrong. Instead, booze braggers gloat about the simple fact that they drank too much, stayed up until 4:00 a.m., fucked an ugly person before passing out with their shoes on and waking up to remember almost nothing. I imagine that they expect envy to be exuding from our pores as we listen to them grandstand their godly boozing talents. There’s not, moron. You suck.
Last night, I actually heard some thirty-something year old man say, “Man, I’m really good at drinking,” which is the same thing as saying, “Man, I’m not really good at anything.”
I’m not sure which is worse, boozy guy, the fact that you drink competitively in the first place or the fact that in order to win you have to puke all over your bed and then sleep in your own vomit. Isn’t that how it works in competitive drinking? The most degenerate, disgusting story wins?
Let me tell you something, if all you talk about is how wasted you got or about how they should legalize pot or how fucking awesome your football team is, then you probably suck at a lot of things because all of your interests involve altering your own personality so that you can get away from yourself, or admiring the actions and skills of others. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with drinking, pot or football…until you start bragging about it.
Not that you couldn’t figure it out on your own, but in case there was ever any doubt, here’s how to spot one of these wonderful booze-breathing individuals.
FIVE WAYS TO SPOT A BOOZE BRAGGER
They are talentless and they are insecure about it. Booze braggers boast about drinking to divert attention away from the fact that they have no other real talent or personality. In fact, they will boast about sleeping with the most hideous gargoyle in the bar in order to reaffirm how wasted they must have been to have had sex with such a troll, and by admitting to it they disarm any argument you might have to deny the extent of their wastedness.
They keep a drink count. Throughout the night, booze braggers like to shout out their booze stats to keep those around them updated on just how many drinks they’ve had. “Dude, I’ve had 7 shots of Jack, 3 Long Islands, and 21 beers. And I’m about to order my 22nd. You might want to write this down.”
They like to high-five. In fact they’ve been high-fiving since junior high, back when they used to brag about the D-minuses they received on their geometry tests. This is the day they first pretended not to try, because if they don’t try then they can’t fail. Now they’re failing in the bars. And still high-fiving each other for it.
They belittle those who refuse to keep up. Booze braggers love to call other guys a fag or a pussy if they refuse to take a shot with them or take longer than 3 minutes to finish a beer. Oh yes, please, Mr. Booze Bragger, I’m begging you, please teach me how to be just like you!
They brag about their hangovers. If it’s the next day, booze braggers will turn into hangover braggers and blubber on and on about how sick and hungover they are. They will inform you of the greasy, unhealthy meal they are about to indulge in and exactly how they are going to waste the rest of their day. But make no mistake, it isn’t sympathy they’re after. They are fishing for accolades for the courage they demonstrated by voluntarily polluting themselves. If you don’t give them what they want, they will finish with, “Well, I’m going to go throw up now before I head to Nations. Later.”
We’ve all had our legendary nights of drinking. I just wasn’t aware that dumping liquid down your throat until it’s time to pee yourself or stick your face in the toilet required an act of skill. Our parents didn’t need to brag about drinking. They’d consume a fifth of Scotch on the way to drop us off at school and then go home and drink a bottle of wine while they paid the bills or mowed the lawn. They didn’t feel the need to brag about it. They just fucking did it! That’s my advice to you. That’s what you should get out of this column and the four minutes you spent reading it: Drink your booze and shut the fuck up!
Cheers, until next time.
The RB
