Today is Thursday. At five o’ clock this evening the underachieving portion of the student population begins the first round of yet another weekend of belligerence. Having nursed your hangover through the better part of the last three, I offer some insight and humor into the days which matter most.
A weekend night at Fairfield, for the single college male, exemplifies the definition of hedonism. If your goal for the evening is to get hammered in hopes of getting laid, your chances are quite high.
If you are truly a scoundrel, your odds increase as you prey among the emotionally weak, physically insecure and mentally unaware. While it’s surely not the most moral course of action, it’s impossible to resist the temptation when it’s really been that long.
For those of you who would rather have a challenge, the bar is the place for you. Whether it is the Seagrape or the Snickering Squirrel, bars are great places to pick up girls that are even less decent than you are. In exchange for a front row view of their ample bosoms, you’ll have to keep buying them drinks until you get fed up and ultimately return home to your computer screen with a bad case of blue balls. Ouch.
If it happens that you’re short on cash, staying on campus is your best bet. Party hopping is a great way to drink for next to nothing and meet people you’ll actually see again.
Unfortunately, party hopping can have horrible recourse; losing count of your drinks can turn a good weekend sour.
A good blackout is analogous to an outer body experience.
You commit a slew of shameless, regrettable actions throughout the course of the night that, no matter how hard you may try, you can never remember; unless, of course, you wake up next to it. And yes I mean it, not her.
Before you know it, it’s Sunday and you have trouble remembering people’s last names because your brain is completely fried.
Just make sure to get some thiamine into your system or Korsakoff’s will kick in by the time graduation rolls around.
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