Stupid Friday Night Shit :: essays research papers

All week long, the only thing everyone can talk about is Friday night. â€Å"What are you doing this weekend?† And the first thing you’ll hear out of any college student’s mouth is â€Å"getting shitty-faced.† Sounds like we got a plan. So Friday night rolls around, and there is a thick and definitely noticeable electricity in the air because everyone is pumped up to go out and drink the week away. All of them say they drink because they â€Å"like the taste.† That’s bullshit. If they really like the taste, they wouldn’t have to play ignorant little games to coax them into drinking the crap. So they’re playing this game now and it’s getting really fucking boring. Now they are all looking at their cup like it’s their enemy and groaning every time they end up having to take a swig. The gulps that everyone started the night out with are slowly turning into tiny little slurps, and the night is dying fast because every one has passed the point of fun-cool-drunk to not-coherent-enough-to-sit-up drunk. Eventually, someone has the bright fucking idea to have some sort of contest to see who can drink the most, the fastest. Joe Dumbass wins, and everybody cheers at how cool he is. Boy does he look real fucking cool two minutes later when he’s sprawled out on the floor puking in a punch bowl, babbling some gibberish shit because he forgot how to fucking talk. Now Mr. Dumbass gets his second wind and discovers that, all of a sudden, he’s the most handsome guy at the party and can stick his meat to anyone at the party he so chooses. Unfortunately, these same beer goggles that made him look so much better, also make the 400-pound heifer in the corner look just as good. Heif knows she’s hideous, and the only reason she comes to these parties it to wait for someone to get drunk enough to think she’s pretty so she can get some good ol’ loving drunken style.