In honor of this blog turning three years old I want you all to go out and have a helluva weekend. You all deserve it. Have a drink on me. (No I won't buy it, but think of this blog as you take your first swig). We've been through a lot together. In celebration of this blog turning three I don't want a gift or anything, in fact some of you may be receiving one (more on that hopefully by the end of the weekend or next week) but I do ask that you fill out the survey on this blog if you haven't yet. It only takes a few minutes and I've already had about 60 responses. The best answers will probably be posted soon, but please take it seriously. Thanks.
So in honor of this blog's 3rd birthday, I give you the best account I can imagine of my 22nd last week. (So far on the survey the drinking stories/alcohol posts are balancing each other out in the "least" and "most" favorite parts. Here's a drinking tale so if you don't like them stop reading here.)
I never had the super crazy 21st birthday that most college kids get to experience. Last year when I turned 21 it fell upon the last Sunday of Spring Break, so the night before many of my friends had not yet returned to campus so I stayed in a drank with a few friends for the night. That next day my older brothers, who I am very close with, took me around Portsmouth and some other area bars for some good ole day drinking. That night, a Sunday, wasn't fit for a party, but I still had fun.
That being said, when I turned 22 last week my roommates and friends were sure to make up for it in a big way and being the loving assholes that they are, they kept the drinks coming fast down at the Knot, but I'm already getting ahead of myself. The night began in my apartment with 3 or 4 Rolling Rocks, possibly the most underrated cheap beer, before we headed downtown. Somewhere around 8 well drinks later (a combo of whiskey and rum and cokes) the shots and "fun" drinks came. First it was a Three Wise Men shot, which is a combo of Jim Beam, Jack Daniels and Johnnie Walker mixed together. Not bad at all. The Jack and Johnnie easily cancel out ole' Jimmy and as a whiskey fan I approved.
Next came the Irish Car Bomb and I pounded that son of a bitch like a pro. Next, a birthday cake shot from the ladies. Super sugary, but not a bad shot to take. Another round of whiskey cokes was followed up by the biggest jackass move and what I believed would be the knockout punch later on: a jagerbomb. And it wasn't even the jager, but the massive amount of Red Bull I had to drink so quickly. A few more whiskey cokes and I was ready head home.
This was taken roughly 3/4 into the night.
I made it to the apartment, hit the couch and then came the spins. Vomit after vomit. The toilet seat was my best friend and I wouldn't let go. Every time I made it back to bed, I'd sprint back to the bathroom in double time. Now, usually when one vomits the hangover is less intense, sometimes even nonexistent at times the following morning. I didn't have class until 3PM and even that was too soon.
Now why am I telling you all this story you ask? Well, I think that it is good to celebrate and just go nuts once in a while. I have great roommates and friends and we always watch out for one another, even if we're responsible for another spending the night praying to the porcelain god. This is my last semester at UNH and we're trying to make the most of every night we have left here.
Cheers to 3 great years!
Stay classy, not UMassy.
What happened at 3am?
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