POSTED BY: Bowzer
There I was, sitting on the couch, nursing that impending feeling of doom that every teacher experiences exactly one week before summer vacation comes to an end. After enjoying two blissful months of traveling, sleeping in, and loads of drunken debauchery, the grim prospect of returning to work felt about as enjoyable as a handjob from Edward Scissorhands. I had this epiphany of sorts that I needed to accomplish something of great magnitude in my last week off from school. As any intelligent 25 year old would do, I decided to spend the entire week drinking the absolute cheapest, nastiest, scummiest booze a person can buy. I call this “The Poor Man’s Booze Review”, a critique of the most disgusting shit out there on the market today. I knew this task would require great sacrifice, and incredibly strong fortitude. But since I am a man of the people, I knew it would be worth it; my liver and I decided to accept the challenge.
Like any good scientist, I had to set a number of controls for my experiment. Each drink was consumed in a state of complete soberness, and these reviews are based on only one container being consumed per day. This allowed me to accurately gauge the effects that the different drinks produced. I also made sure to keep careful and detailed notes during my drunken proceedings so that I could effectively blog about them at a later date. I will be giving five different drinks a grade (the teacher in me, I know) based on four distinct categories: Packaging, Taste, Buzz, and Overall Performance. Some other rules I put in place:
1. The product must be limited to one container only (poor people can only afford one of anything at a time, everyone knows that). No six packs or the like.
2. The booze must cost $4 or less (only the bourgeoisie spend more on alcohol)
3. The alcohol must be consumed straight out of the bottle (duh, poor people don’t drink out of cups)
4. You must be able to buy the drink at a gas station (this is where poor people always do their shopping because…everything costs more?)
Okay, let the games begin… Continue reading
Posted in Awesome
Tagged 40 oz, alcohol, blue bull, booze, crunk, drunk, Joose, juice box wine, jungle juice, Mad Dog, malt liquor, MD 20/20, poor man's booze review, Schlitz, Steel Reserve, Vendange
POSTED BY: Bowzer
The story is always the same when you meet the most amazing girl in the world. She walked in the room, and even though just looking at how beautiful she was made you nervous, you knew you had to talk to her. Three drinks and an hour later, it slowly dawns on you that this angel with the aqua blue eyes and the incredible smile is actually digging you. And not in that “I’m wasted, and I’m clearly going to fuck you” kind of way, either. I’m talking about an immediate connection that is electric, full of hope and fear and dizziness and excitement in such a way that you know your life will never be the same. This is how meeting a future girlfriend works; she will always feel like the most amazing girl in the world. Even though it ends up being wrong every time (so far), part of being a human being is accepting the illusion.
Inevitably you start dating, and everything is just dandy. Bar attendance plummets, odds of watching “Grey’s Anatomy” increase exponentially, and your friends will grow increasingly worried about who is really in possession of your balls. You and the girl will spend outrageous amounts of time watching movies, constantly hearing about her period, going out to eat, driving her around, listening to the minute details of every one of her godforsaken days, and just generally being completely up each others asses. Every relationship has its apex, it’s only sad that we never get to recognize and appreciate it until the slope of our love curve changes to negative. Whether your relationship ends suddenly, or whether it dies a slow and painful death, the end result is the same: BREAKUP.
Now you could try to be a mature person about the breakup, but we all know how completely unrealistic that is. Look at it this way: was the Soviet Union still cool with the Nazis after Hitler broke their peace treaty and attacked the Russians? Hell no, the breaking of a treaty (or a long-term relationship) clearly means war. After the breakup has commenced, any remaining loyalties should be considered useless. If love is a battlefield, then the breakup is the decisive battle, motherfucker (Samuel Jackson voice). Here’s how to win it: Continue reading
POSTED BY: Bowzer
1. Spilling a Drink (as long as no one sees them):
There is some special property of booze that usually guarantees at least one spill of some kind during the evening. We’ve all been there…once the drunken spill has occurred, everyone has the same first move: check for witnesses. If no one saw you and it’s on carpet, not one drunk person on the planet is going to report the infraction. Of course if the spill is discovered, it’s all about plausible deniability. In desperate times when you’ve been cornered as the definite culprit of the strange wet spot on the floor, the veteran drunk will fess up but make the case that it was water.
2. Peeing All Over the Toilet:
I don’t know what it is, but for some reason alcohol has the unfortunate side effect of causing guys to pee everywhere on the toilet except in it. I hope you enjoy those valuable two seconds you are saving by refusing to aim for the bowl. Believe me, there’s nothing that I love more than cleaning up other people’s pee caked on my toilet. Girls are not immune to this necessarily; they treat the bathroom nicely under normal circumstances, but if it’s a party or a public restroom, the girls can be just as bad as the boys.
3. How Drunk They Are:
I love listening to a drunk person try to persuade someone else that they aren’t intoxicated. It’s about as convincing as a Prom Promise signed by Miley Cyrus. If the drunk is insisting on driving home for some reason, it’s just best to convince them to stay for one more beer/shot, which will give you ample time to steal their keys and wait for them to pass out on your couch.
4. Sending Texts to the Ex:
When text messaging was invented, drunk dialers around the world rejoiced. No longer were they required to leave the room to make their regretful phone calls, drawing the ire of their friends and missing out on all the fun. Now the party can continue unabated while the drunk gets to text “I miss u <insert gag-inducing pet name>” to their ex. When called out, the drunk will become very defensive and make a lame attempt to lie about it, and then mysteriously “call it a night” exactly twelve minutes later. Continue reading
POSTED BY: Bowzer
Now is the time to strike.
The post Election Day climate in this country is a unique and fascinating thing that I’m glad I only have to relive once every four years. That last month leading up to the election is pretty intense: attack ads flying multiple times every commercial break, non-stop cable news coverage, political debates amongst everyone (even those that normally couldn’t care less about politics). The tension and hatred between the supporters of Democrats and Republicans really reaches a tipping point by the time Election Day rolls around. It’s a recipe for a tremendous uplifting feeling of joy for the winners, and a bitter cold emotional letdown for the losers.
There is no better time to bang a Republican girl than in the next week or so. Anyone who has seen Wedding Crashers learned from Will Ferrell’s character that the total money spot for picking up chicks is at a funeral. The pain, the sorrow, that frozen feeling of empty in the pit of your soul; these are feelings that I equate with the loss of a loved one or the defeat of your party in a presidential election. What this means is that essentially there are millions of Republican girls out there that are emotionally ripe for a lay. These are girls, mind you, that will be totally willing to dress up as Sarah Palin before fucking you. Do not underestimate the value of this.
That conservative girl at the bar that just passes your minumum Area Code threshold is much like a wounded antelope in the grasslands of Africa. Like any self-respecting lion, men need to pounce on the kill while the opportunity is there. I don’t want to hear any B.S. about staying loyal to your party’s beliefs, either. The last time I checked, guys will spit ungodly amounts of bullshit to get into a girl’s pants, and this will be no exception. Sex transcends all party lines, at least on the path between the bar and the bedroom. Here’s how you are going to star in your own version of “Nailin’ Palin:”
POSTED BY: Bowzer
As some of you may know, I teach middle school for a living. Obviously, the presidential election has been a major focus of our Civics class this year. In the spirit of the season, I had my students make campaign posters in support of their favorite candidate. I received these two gems that could very well serve as legitimate attack ads for either campaign, and I just had to share them with you guys. Make sure to click on the pics for zoomed in images of the posters.
POSTED BY: Bowzer
I was having a discussion with a friend of mine recently about how much things have changed since our parents were twenty-somethings. Most of my friends’ parents were married and had at least one kid (often more) by the time they were my age. When I look at how my parents lived their twenties, I struggle to imagine myself taking the same path they did. In this day and age, what I call the “modern mindset” has emerged among the young, professional crowd. My goal is to try and define exactly what the modern mindset entails, and how it has greatly improved the quality of life for those of us in our twenties and early thirties. Continue reading
POSTED BY: Bowzer
About a month ago, I had the pleasure of going back to visit my alma mater, James Madison University. Now I’m not exactly sure what older alumni do when they return to their old college campus. Take a walking tour of the grounds, point out to their kids which dorm they lived in, have a meal in the dining hall for old time’s sake, and maybe if they’re feeling randy, a stop at that favorite pub for a few pints in the evening. When you’re in your mid-twenties like me, however, the standard operating procedure is to dive right in just like it was senior year all over again. I’m young enough to still blend in with the college students at parties, avoiding the label of “that old ass dude” that is undoubtedly present at every keg party. At the same time though, I am old enough to utilize my superior wisdom and experience to theoretically make a killing on the coeds. What I found in my most recent visit back to good old JMU, however, was that I was going to commit an error that shrunk me to back to the status of a lowly freshman in one fell swoop.