Dec 07 2007
Chugga Chugga (Pic of the Week)
That’s me in the center, with Captain Morgan as my team leader.
(NOTE: I’m trying something new with the photos today. Click any thumbnail to view full-size, and then click anywhere in the text behind it to come back here.)
It’s time finally to tell the tale of another first, and this one’s not for the kiddies. I’d give it about a PG-13.
Let me start by saying, no matter what my wife or Lan puts in the comments, I did not make a pass at Kevin. Also, I unequivocally hate beer, and always have.
Women, however, I’ve always liked, which is why being at a baby shower wasn’t all bad.
Throughout history, these and similar events typically have been gatherings of females. Single, married, childless, covered up with offspring. Whatever their status, they were invited, and the men were left at home.
We should have known they had something in mind for us.
I was innocently dipping my chip in queso I had just ladled from a stainless steel pot. I watched as a woman smuggling a basketball under her blouse opened gift after gift, her husband lending an occasional hand. Mostly he just sat there smiling as if he knew what was going on. It’s our lot at events like this. Even though we’ve been included, let’s not get carried away. Just do as the women tell us, and nobody gets hurt.
I even enthusiastically sampled unlabeled Gerber baby foods and attempted to guess what they were. I nailed the easy ones, but couldn’t tell the difference between turkey with carrots and turkey with sweet potatoes, or whatever ungodly combinations were there. Hey, it was turkey with orange stuff containing lots of vitamin A. Not even partial credit? Crap. At least one of the ladies guessed all six, but none of the guys did.
Very shortly after the gift opening ended, someone switched the TV from satellite radio to the Florida-Auburn football game (did I mention this was a while ago?). A few guys lingered there for a moment, but most disbursed dispersed to the backyard for a mean round of bean bag toss. With beers and mixed drinks, they loosened up, untucked their shirts, and trash-talked the opposing team.
The ladies talked about dewdrops, mittens, and fluffballs on kittens. Well, that and PMS, episiotomies, and gas.
Then there was the gay guy in one corner of the backyard practicing his raunchy stand-up comedy routine on a small group of women.
Just when I thought this party had it all, a call rang out. "Okay, all the men, to the backyard. It’s time to play a game!"
The ladies divided us into two groups lined up about 10 feet apart. On a table next to the privacy fence were two girl baby dolls. On either side of them were several pink, disposable plastic cups full of beer neatly arranged in rows. The baby dolls were fully clothed at this point.
Our task was to pull off an item of the baby’s clothing, then chug a beer. On the next go ’round, we were to put a piece of the baby’s clothing back on and chug a beer. The last man on each team had to drink a baby bottle full of beer — through the nipple.
I had never taken more than four swallows of beer in my life, much less chugged one. I stood my ground, however. I couldn’t let down my team. Drag them down, maybe, but not just plain quit. The next series of photos (cropped versions because Shannon couldn’t get close enough) shows my evolution as a beer chugger.
Note how my first time is tentative, even a bit wussy-like. As if I’m thinking, "Ew, get this nasty stuff away from me, you guys. How can anyone drink this stuff?" The next time, however, I have a firmer stance and a more authoritative grip on the cup. More like, "I’m still not happy about this, but my team needs me. Fuck. This shit is disgusting. Stop taking my picture." See, much more manly than the first time.
Between my turns, I was still working on a Captain and Coke, and I finished it after the game ended. That and the two beers of respectable size did in a lightweight like me. I was saying somewhat inappropriate things to a table of women (including my wife), but mercifully I didn’t hit on any of them. For some reason, one of my worst fears of getting drunk is that I would forget the one thing I’m very good at — being very geeky around women — and become a gigolo. Pretty dumb, I know, but there it is.
Our anchor man R, whose picture I withhold out of courtesy, looked like a rat gnawing a bigger hole in the bottle’s nipple, but still came up a few seconds short of the winner.
When I stood to head to the bathroom (isn’t drinking beer enough of a segue?), I had to steady myself. I tried to remember if it was, "Beer then liquor, never sicker," or "Liguor then beer, never fear." My brain was just scrambled enough that I couldn’t tell those were the same. It wasn’t my first time to be that tipsy. That was on wine, and it’s chronicled live, as it happened, elsewhere.
I stopped in the living room to see the score in the Florida-Auburn game. Someone was in the downstairs bathroom, and the guys were on the edge of their seats, so I moved to sit on a large, cushioned chair.
Problem was, Kevin was in it. I realized it in time to sit on the arm of the chair instead of in his lap, and then quickly kneeled down on the floor next to it. I watched the game until the bathroom was free, did my business in there, and then rejoined the ladies on the patio.
I slept fine and didn’t have a hangover the next day. I’m still not sure whether I’d participate again when facing a similar challenge. I think I would. Considering it was the first time since 1993 that I’ve been to a party featuring beer chugging, that’s not a very bold statement.
I’m proud of you…. ya took one for the team!
One thing though…. never… NEVER let women make up games for men like that. It’s almost always embarrassing to us, and nothing good ever comes of it (for us).
If we did the same to them, we’d be in the doghouse (read: no sex) for a month of Sundays.
And just exactly what did they disburse to the back yard? Bean bag currency? Tsk.
Dave - As if the guys there had any control of the situation. They already agreed to attend a baby shower, so I think it’s pretty obvious they had given up hope on that.
Pops - Whoa. Oops. I changed that to “dispersed,” which still isn’t the perfect word there, but actually makes sense.
I feel your pain, Mark. Although I love my beer…I hate the type of beer that makes for good chugging. I am, according to my brother, a beer snob, and would have been right there with you making wussy faces.
Also, I think this marks the first appearence of the “f word” here at Regular Life. Does that make this a collector’s item? Should I wrap it in plastic and store it in my mother’s basement? Furthermore…will Mr. Simian even be able to read this potty-mouthed post from work?
Moksha - It might be the first time the “F” word has appeared here. Not sure. But, it is the reason I issued the disclaimer. Some say that curse words are for those who can’t find a better word, but I was trying to convey what I was thinking at the time, and what we think and what we utter aloud often vary by many degrees.
Some may say that…but not me. I am a fan of the f-word and avoid it here solely out or respect for the PG rating we Blog Fathers “tend” to strive for. I think it was fully appropriate here.
Also, on the top picture, you really need to tell those two on the right to get in line. They’re totally messing up the whole “left-hand beer / right-hand pocket” thing the posse had going on.
Fuçk that was a great post!
Yes, I can view this at work, I’ve just needed to get bunch of shit done before the weekend. Amy and I are heading to Calgary overnight Saturday (3 hours south) to reunite with our Cuba vacation crew to reminisce and, well, drink a little bit.
I’d've loved to anchor you there, Mark. (Your team, I mean.) Have I regaled you yet with my record days in university where I anchored my Chemical Engineering “boat race” team during January’s Engineering Week? The anchor had to chug a full glass and a bottle - back to back. My record that night was 10 seconds. I was unstoppable! Of course, I was a lot more proud of the achievement then than I am now. All things change.
I also prefer the tastier beers to the more chuggable ones, though I’ll rarely turn my nose up to any beer. A good, dark ale is the best.
Great… Friday afternoon and now I’m thinking about beer…
Didja see how I snuck the swear word past my work filters?
Ha ha!!
Simon: 1
The Man: 0
Moksha - Used sparingly and in the right audience, four-letter words and their prefixed and suffixed cousins are succinct.
Simon - Have fun in Calgary. I always think of the hymn “At Calvary” but plug in the word “Calgary.” Somehow it’s funnier to think about setting captives free at Calgary instead of Calvary.
We definitely needed a chugger of your caliber. I hear it’s not really a “drinking” in the traditional since, but more of an opening of the throat. Or is that shotgunning a beer? I don’t know. I was swallowing the largest gulps I could.
Loved your method of getting past the work filters. I’m surprised “shit” made it past my comment moderation filter.
I’ve never “trained” hard enough to do the open throat thing. I’m just very adept at the other way. (No way in hell I was going to type swallowing in that last sentence.) And shotgunning a beer is one specific technique for extracting the fluid from the can, rather than a descriptor related to the efficacy of the swallowing.
[didact]
For you see, in order to properly shotgun a beer, you must puncture the can at the bottom, raise the aluminium wound to your mouth, and then crack the tab on the can so that the amber liquid flows rapidly and smoothly down your throat. Don’t even get me started on beer bongs. That’s worse. Or better, depending on your approach.
[\didact]
We can have drinking contests in St. Louis in May!!
A. I don’t know how I missed this post.
B. You went to a party and drank beer and it wasn’t at my house. I’m insulted. We keep that clear crap in the fridge just for you, and here you are gulping down beers and posting evidence online. It’s like you reached through the screen and slapped me upside the head with a full bottle. Back to Simon’s beer bong, I have one, somewhere, and you’ll be required to finish not one, but two 12 ouncers before crossing our threshold again. If I sound upset, it’s cuz I wish my wife had thought to have this cool contest at OUR baby shower. Especially knowing me and my friends. Wait, that’s probably why she didn’t.
C. This post makes me want to put the pic of my dad doing an ice block shot up.
I’m a semi-proud big brother. I know that had to be a pretty rough situation for you, because I’m sure you didn’t want to be called a pussy in front of all of those women. It’s hard to be perceived as a “mans man,” and not drink beer, so you’re to be commended for your ability to roll with the punches.
I’m happy you “took one for the team.”
You may recall that your best friend from HS, CC, once attained a level of infamy through beer bong-ing only enjoyed by a few.
On his third bonged beer, in rapid succession, his stomach’s reaction to that much cold liquid pulled a full mutiny. At said point in time, he managed a full reverse bong vomit back out of the top of the funnel that resulted in the following:
1. The fastest change from a chanting cheer, to an “eeeewweeee” I’ve ever seen.
2. A bong funnel that was immediately thrown in the trash.
3. My favorite nickname from college, which somehow never stuck. “Showstopper.” I can’t recall who coined it, but it should have stuck with the same virulence as “Bucket.” Which is, by the way, a very similar story.
By the way, I know you’ll argue with me on this one, but I’m going to stand by it right or wrong. There is NO WAY any man should ever attend a Baby Shower, or any other type of shower…ever. Nothing good can possibly come from that. Chugging beer almost makes up for some it, but it just never should have happened.
“Honey, the guys are going to the shower, and I want you to come too.”
“NFW. I know that can’t be a good idea. I can make a fool out of myself right here in my own living room with no onlookers…have fun, see you later.”
End of Story.
Josh - Yeah, so, I was hoping you wouldn’t read this!
I don’t think you want me to try to down two 12-oz beers anywhere near your carpet. Those cups weren’t quite that big! I fully appreciate your stocking of my wussy drinks in your fridge.
Please post that pic of your dad.
Charles - Yeah, with family I’m more apt to decline things I don’t like. With that group of mostly people I would never see again in my life, I figured it was easier just to go with it and do as the Romans do. Down here in Texas you don’t want somebody’s first and only impression of you to be that you were the guy who didn’t drink beer. Who knows when I might need a good professional contact? It is a small world, after all.
Hilarious story. I was holding back my laughter the whole time I was reading it. I guess I’ve heard it before, but not quite like that. It’s good that CC’s legendary for something.