Guest Blog: Country Legend Randy Travis’ Crazy Night

This blog is satirical and is based very loosely on a few known facts. While it may sound like him, this was not written by Randy Travis, country legend. 


Howdy boys and girls, country legend Randy Travis here. For those of you may not have the pleasure of knowin’ me, I am the proud owner of 16 #1 Billboard country hits since 1985 and perhaps the greatest voice in country music. Some of my hits include “Deeper than the Holler” and Forever and Ever, Amen”. I have sung my way into the hearts of millions and my deep, southern drawl is known all across this wonderful land. Here is a sample of my work:


By chance, you also may know me as the guy in 2012 who was found naked and intoxicated along a Grayson County, TX highway after crashing my ’98 Pontiac Trans Am. Boy was that some night. Anyway, since I’m writing on some sort of drinking blog, I’m gonna tell you the story about how that night ended up the way it did. Disclaimer: I drank a lot. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, ’cause it was quite a bender.

I woke up in a motel room on the morning of August 7, 2012 in Dallas, Texas. I had been visiting a lady friend of mine and, long story short, she told me to kick rocks. Called me a “crazy old coot whose country charms ain’t workin’ no more.” Seems like showing up hammered to her son’s fifth birthday party after not seeing her for 3 months wasn’t my best move. So that night I stumbled back into this grungy motel room outside Dallas and as soon as I woke up, I was in a drinkin’ mood.

At about 9 a.m I called up an old buddy who lives in Fort Worth and told him to meet me at a honky tonk down the road that I had been to a good long time ago back when I was a touring regular. He was an old roadie from the 80’s who now lived in a double-wide trailer, a real stand-up citizen. So of course he was down to drink at 9:30 in the mornin’. We were knockin back Budweisers like it was goin’ out of style and hustlin’ pool games just for fun.

By noon we had graduated to shots of hard liquor: Bourbon, mostly. I started serenading a woman in a Dale Earnhardt T-shirt while my buddy announced to the whole bar that I was there. The 5 degenerates in the bar at the time all begged me to sing, so I did a rousing rendition of “Deeper than the Holler”, finishing by planting a big old fat kiss on the overweight NASCAR lady.

Eventually time started to get a bit fuzzy, but a man who claimed to be NASCAR lady’s husband walked in and told me he was gonna beat my keester from here to Amarillo. So me and Buddy (my buddy’s name is Buddy) dashed off in my Trans Am after jacking a couple bottles of Jim Beam from behind the bar. I’d guess it was about 3pm at this point, and I’m so drunk I ran over a couple of Harley Davidsons on my way out.

So Buddy and I decided we would go down to the track and bet on a few horses. It was a thing we used to do before shows back in the day. I placed a $1,000 bet on a 50-1 apparently and wouldn’t you know it- I won. Guess with a little bad luck comes a little good. That money wouldn’t last too long, though. We were still taking pulls of the bourbon and all the while yelling inappropriate comments at the jockeys and horses. Then, for some damn reason, Buddy ran like a bat outta hell right onto the track chasin’ after a horse. By now the security had been on us and they came after me too for bein’ drunk as a skunk. So I darted outta there and hopped in my Trans Am, leaving Buddy to be apprehended. Whatever, I didn’t even know if his real name was Buddy anyway.

When I got to the parking lot, who was there but the NASCAR lady’s redneck husband. He got a good lick on me with a baseball bat but I avoided him and hopped into the old Trans Am. So I was off again, swerving with a half-drunk bottle of Jim Beam in my console when I tried to light up a cigarette. Unfortunately, my butane lighter was faulty and before you knew it, my clothes were on fire. So I did what my daddy had told me and stopped the car and stopped, dropped, and rolled. By the time the fire was out my clothes were ashes and I was stark naked right there on the highway! Hell, i didn’t care; I was piss-drunk headed God knows where. I hopped back in the car.

Since my cigarettes had burned up in my pocket, I decided to stop at the Exxon Tiger Mart to pick up some smokes. However, in my drunken state, I had forgotten 2 things: First, I was completely naked. Second, since I had no pants, I had no wallet, and thus no money. So I was stuck in a Tiger Mart buck naked askin’ for smokes with no money. Holding a fifth of Jim Beam. As soon as the clerk reached under the counter I knew I was in trouble and darted outta there faster than I did from the race track. But not without grabbing a bag of pork rinds first.

It was getting dark now and I’m trying to get out of the Lone Star State. Unfortunately, I’m at about a .30 BAC and can’t even see straight. I’m not sure what happened, but I think I saw some sort of large animal in the road, swerved off and drove right into a construction site. My poor Trans Am, my baby, was ruined, and i was left naked and alone on the side of the highway. When the Texas Highway Patrol came and picked me up, they made a big fuss about me makin’ threats on their lives and what not. How am I at fault for that? I was drunker than a mug! Speaking of mugs, after they finally corralled me and slapped me with a DUI, here’s the mugshot they got (see where he got me with the Louisville Slugger?):


Randy Travis looking a little rough. Could his bender have started with a bar crawl? Who knows...

So boys and girls, I hope y’all learned somethin’ today. No matter how famous you are, no matter how many people you think you can charm, if you wind up butt naked and drunker than hell, ain’t no one gonna care. Oh and don’t ever go to Grayson County, Texas. Peace and love, y’all.


Grading Greasy Drunk Foods

Hello loyal readers, this blog is very simple and right to the point. When we are at the bar/pub/watering hole/tavern/etc. and have imbibed a significant amount of spirits, it is no secret that the vast majority of us enjoy some delicious, greasy food. If you are thinking in your head, “wow that is presumptuous of him to say, I actually stay away from all meat and gluten at all times”, then you can go ahead and close this window because vegetables and tofu will not be mentioned today. Go feed your ferret, tend to your spice garden and let the carnivores talk for a little.

The criteria for these foods is simple: they are unhealthy, fatty, greasy and normally found at or around your local bar to optimize business during drinking hours. They are also all main courses, so no french fries, nachos, desserts allowed. Keep in mind I will be splitting hairs here and looking at this from a sober perspective, because we all know a piece of cardboard tastes pretty good after a night of drinking brewhahas. These foods are not ranked; rather I have given each a report card grade from A-F.


1. Hot Dog/Sausage

Ahh the hot dog. The delicious phallic meat stick made out of pork and beef leftovers and slapped between a bun. We all secretly love hot dogs and sausages. The perfect ball-game food tastes fantastic next to a tall, cool Budweiser and the buzz of a stadium on a July day. Or at 2am sitting on the curb outside a dirty Nathan’s hot dog stand. Either way, these frankfurters are okay in my book. One con I have with these is that they simply are not big enough. I need at least 3 or 4 of these to go down my gullet before I feel satisfied. Call me gluttonous, but this is a real concern. They also can get quite messy, what with the mustard and the sauerkraut and the onions and the relish and the chili and the cheese and what not. (Absolutely no ketchup, what are you in kindergarten?)

Grade: B



2. Chinese Food

Chinese Food is a bit of a dark horse in this race. The reason I include it is because one of my go-to moves is a place down the road from my favorite bar called the Shanghai Cafe, which is open until 4am and gives all you can eat Chinese food to all belligerent patrons for $10. I have never left this place unsatisfied and let’s be real, pretty much all cheap Chinese food is the same. You get your General Tso, your fried rice, your rangoons or your egg roll, maybe some orange chicken or mystery pork/beef and you just mix it all together with soy sauce and voila: deliciousness. The issue with this choice, however, is that you don’t know how much of said deliciousness you are eating and the next day the lining of your stomach and intestines feel as if they were visited by a local arsonist.

Grade: B+



3. Pizza

I may surprise people with my report on Pizza. Obviously, Pizza is a staple in the drunk food game. It was invented by Italians who are drunk on wine day and night. The perfect piece of pizza gets an A+ from me every time. For me, that is the original Grotto Pizza in Rehoboth Beach, DE. It’s the legendary taste, plain and simple. However, I am grading Pizza on a whole and that is where the problem arises. Most pizza, especially the kind served late at night, is average at best. Sure, I’m going to eat a lot of it and enjoy it, but the crust might be chewy or there’s way too much sauce or the cheese is way too congealed. This is because the employees are tired, there’s a line down the street, and mostly, because pizza is simply hard to perfect. While I love a good piece of za, not just any old piece will do for this guy.

Grade: C+




4. Taco/Burrito

I put these 2 together because like most mexican food, they are basically the same damn thing. Tortilla, meat, beans, cheese, rice, salsa, etc etc etc. We all know the greatness of the heaven-on-earth Chipotle burritos, burrito bowls and tacos. But once again, I am speaking for the food group as a whole. Burritos have even a wider variance than pizza does. The problem with them from a drunk perspective is, they fall apart so easily, and have to maintain a pretty precise ratio. There is NOTHING worse than a burrito with too much sour cream or salsa and not enough meat. The more meat, the better. It takes a true artist to get this right every time. Chipotle doesn’t even get this right all of the time. Also, it seems like 2 bites in, the whole thing is ready to fall apart. For these reasons, the burrito/taco gets my lowest grade on this blog.

Grade: C-



5. Wings

Ahhh Wings. Nothing matches with a beer better, and that includes a hot dog. There’s a reason Buffalo Wild Wings’ slogan is “Wings. Beer. Sports.” That motto alone causes it to make infinite amounts of money from American men because that is the holy grail right there. Something about the carniverous, barbaric act of pulling meat right off of a bone while guzzling a few (dozen) brewzers and watching a game of pigskin just gets me all hot and bothered. Never mind the messiness of a chicken wing, because unlike the burrito, no food is wasted. Sauce is just getting on your hands and face and it only enhances the caveman-like experience. Pair them with a small bowl of Ranch/Bleu Cheese Dressing and Boom! You’re ready to go. Only small knock on wings: price. I can take down a solid 24 wings in a sitting and that can run up quite a tab along with the beers.

Grade: A-



6. Philly Cheese Steak

This may be my most controversial call of the day, but this is surprisingly my numero uno. Yes, my number one drunk food is the legendary Philly Cheese Steak. Like you read about. A perfect combination of shredded steak, cheese whiz/provolone, fried onions and an assortment of other goodies all stuffed onto a foot-long piece of bread, the P.S.T is a gift from the man upstairs. Obviously there is some variance among these, but even a “crappy” cheese steak made down here in Maryland is an experience. And if you are ever so lucky to travel to South Pilly and try Geno’s, Pat’s, and Tony Luke’s, you will not disagree with this blog whatsoever. Is this whole list biased? Yes of course it is. Is it my list? You’re damn right it is, and I’m giving the Philly Cheese Steak an A and the crown for best greasy drunk food out there.

Grade: A

So there is my list, and not much else needs to be said. Let the debating begin.

AmsterDAMN!: Alcoholics Paid with Beer to Clean Dutch Streets

WKYC Cleveland, OH A program in the Netherlands is getting people with serious alcohol addictions off the streets and putting them to work. There’s controversy surrounding the program because the pay includes beer. Fred Schiphorst, like all of his co-workers, is an alcoholic. These beers might as well be their morning coffee. “The first beer, I’m shaking, when I have one or two beers, it’s over,” says Schiphorst.

The men are part of an unusual social project.It’s a partially government funded program to pay alcoholics to pick up litter for beer.They get two in the morning, two at lunch, and one at the end of their shift.The workers also get a half a pack of rolling tobacco, about $13 and a hot lunch.The goal is to get them off the streets where they drink all day, and into a daily routine.

Project leader Jeanette Van Der Noord says, “It gives them something to do. It’s a reason to get up, they have contact, fellowship. And they’re not drunk here. They only get 5 beers, which they need to feel not ill.” To understand how a program like this gets started in the Netherlands, you have to understand Amsterdam as a whole. It’s a culture with almost no taboos, a place where everything is out in the open. From legal sex for sale in the red light district to legal marijuana at the coffee shops, the people of Amsterdam have little to hide. Even their home windows are rarely curtained.Their problems are up for discussion. One of the workers in this program was sleeping on a train station floor before he joined the project. They all may still be drinking, but they claim it’s a lot less than before. Some say they are trying to stop drinking, and others say this gives their day a rhythm they didn’t have before. A rhythm that doesn’t just give them a chance to restore their city, but their pride.

Nope. This blog title is not a joke nor is this news story, even though it does sound like some sort of idea I would think of half-jokingly with my friends and then decide to blog about. I came across this article the other day and at first I thought it was some dumb story from The Onion or something or a gag video/story. Turns out the Dutch are really paying these derelicts to clean up the streets in exchange for 5 beers, a half a pack of smokes, some petty cash and some lunch. I don’t know much about Dutch food but I am 100% sure the food is borderline inedible. Also, alcoholics are alcoholics and I’m sure they use the extra $13 to buy another 6 pack of beer. However besides those two facts, after thinking about it, this is probably a good move on the part of Amsterdam for a couple of reasons.

First of all, these men are being supervised and are doing a service to the city rather than sipping on hard liquor out of a brown bag and laying on a bench or on the sidewalk somewhere begging for money. They also are not puking and shaking hysterically from alcohol withdrawal. I do realize that giving an alcoholic beer to solve his/her problems is probably not incredibly logical and wise. It’s comparable to trying to help an American child fight obesity with free McDonalds Chicken Nuggets and fries. However, it also gives these people some semblance of purpose and something to wake up to in the morning. In other words, I see where Amsterdam is going with this. It would never fly in America because we simply are not Amsterdam and will never have that mindset, which brings me to my next point.

People associate Amsterdam with freedom and utter debauchery because of its lax laws and drug presence. However, it’s actually a pretty relaxed city, probably because everyone is sedated on something. If I ever make it to Amsterdam in my lifetime I am for sure calling my mother and telling her it was nice knowing her because there’s a fighter’s chance that I’m not making it out of there alive and well. I’ve known a few people who have had the Amsterdam experience and they say it’s another planet. Prostitutes, gypsies, druggies and winos as far as the eye can see. Why not utilize these degenerates and have them do a little work around the city, kind of like a mom who makes her post-grad son do chores around the house when he inevitably moves back home from college (also known as my life next year)? Someone in Amsterdam has to keep the city intact, and if some of these alcoholics are getting paid in the only thing they really want, then they will stop with the crime and start pulling their weight.

On a side note, I’d like to see this as a reality show or documentary, kind of a response to shows like Intervention on A&E. Because in that show it seems like almost all of the alcoholics and drug addicts just relapse within a year of leaving the rehabilitation facility. Amsterdam is basically displaying an “Ahh, screw it” attitude to trying to treat alcoholism medically. It may be a little bit immoral but it has to be cheaper to implement and there is the possibilty of them becoming weaned off of them after a certain amount of time.

Basically, keep doing you Amsterdam. Just trying to keep your city beautiful. I won’t knock your hustle.


Whiskey Business

First of all, my apologies for not writing a blog post in a coon’s age; seems even though I’m a senior my professors have still insisted that I take tests and do homework during my last few weeks. Therefore I can’t just spend it at the local watering hole thinking of great drinking blogs for you all to enjoy. Anyway, since the 7th and final season is underway, my topic for this week has to do with one of my all time favorite television programs, Mad Men on AMC.

“But what does this dumb TV show about the 60’s have to do with drinking?”





Shut up, imaginary reader who is now banished from this site. The show is fantastic and it has everything to do with drinking because these Madison Avenue giants basically drink liquor from sun up till sun down, all while creating ingenious advertisements and wooing big time clients from across the country. Now this show may or may not be for you, but I have always been perplexed with how much of grandpa’s cough medicine these guys can take down while going about their everyday lives. The show prides itself on its accurate historical undertones down to the dimple on each man’s obscenely expensive necktie. Even the stingiest of reviewers praise this show. My question is, were all of our WW2 veteran and baby boomer grandfathers just wasted all the time? Were they really that bad ass? It sounds like a silly question but it has a lot of merit. The culture was quite different back then. Companies didn’t do business with men they couldn’t have a few (dozen) drinks and smoke unfiltered cigarettes with. Drinking was even more of a social institution than it is now and ventured far into the professional realm.

Enter exhibit 1: Roger Sterling, the Silver Fox. A partner at the Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce advertising agency, his job as an “account man” is to entertain current and potential clients by bringing them to a restaurant, getting them drunk and surrounding them with beautiful women while telling old war stories and racist jokes. Despite the fact that he is well into his 50’s and has gone through two marriages, he still drinks like a young cadet and can have the most serious group of men howling with laughter. How he continues to get on with his everyday life, much less look like he runs 10 miles a day is simply unfathomable. The guy is a stud, plain and simple.


This brings me to my second exhibit: The man, the myth, the legend, Donald Draper. I like to think that Don has a perpetual aroma of Canadian Whisky following him at all times to go along with the smell of his beloved Lucky Strikes. Either that or he takes a bath in Aqua Velva every morning before work. Don’s creative process involves lounging on the leather couch in his office with the aforementioned spirits in a perpetual cloud of smoke and having genius just come up and smack him right in the face. He is a pure advertising genius but yet he seemingly does it in a drunken stupor. Not to mention he is desired by every woman in the Tri-state area and always looks as sharp as a tack in Italian suits. Every woman and their mother (seriously pretty sure every mother in America) loves Don Draper.


So are these men a reflection of the greatest generation and how they, despite their explicit alcoholism, were able to get business done in this world of an inflated sense of manliness? When your granddad talks about how in his day he could drink you young whipper snappers under the table, do you dismiss him as an old nostalgic coot? I guess there is no genuine proof but if Mad Men is any indication, he is probably right and my friends and I are a bunch of nancy boys sipping on our light beers compared to him and his old cronies. You can probably learn a thing or two from old Pop-pop if you sit and ask.

I would like to think that drinking at noon on a Monday during work hours was more of a Madison Avenue thing. I don’t know if every profession was as drinking-oriented as the advertising life in the big firms. However if you wanted to make it in the time of the Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon administrations, you better have had your drinking knickers on, that’s for sure.



Credit:Mad-men-gif Tumblr

Ode to the Beer Drinking Woman

Last week during class, this blog, along with a few of my colleagues’, was classified as, for lack of a better term, a “dude blog”. It seems my blog caters mostly to men because of my subject matter and relatively crude humor. Imagine that. I first took a bit of offense to this assertion, as I have a great female following (all the ladies in the building say yeah!) but I figured I should take this challenge anyway and blog about the opposite sex through my experience of occasional awkward run-ins with a few of them in college.

I write this blog both as a perplexed observer and a tributary. First, I ask, why is it that most girls refuse to drink beer at social gatherings? Aside from the obvious “too many calories” excuse, which I see as a cop-out considering I see a myriad of girls at Chipotle stuffing their faces on a daily basis, is there some sort of social stigma attached to cracking open a cerveza or two? All I see these days are girls bringing a bottle of Burnett’s or Andre to parties and taking shot after shot to pregame for the bar. Typically, when I ask a girl when I’m out, “Hey do you want a beer?” I get one of two reactions:

1. “Uhhh, I don’t really drink beer.”


2. “Um, sure…” and they take 1 sip from it and leave it on a table and go back to doing shots and taking photos for Instagram, leaving a poor old wounded soldier alone on the battlefield.


Side Note: Sorority Row is a horrible movie. Side note to my side note: I loved it. 

Now ladies. You know I love ya. I am not here to criticize your habits or call our generation’s women a bunch of snobs and woo girls, although I have definitely run into a few of these over the years. Rather, I am here to praise those brave few of you who have the courage to take down a few smooth Pilsners with the boys. Because in my eyes and the eyes of many a young man, there is nothing more attractive than a girl who asks for a beer and knows how to drink it properly. By properly I mean not to look cool or carry it around as an accessory like Paris Hilton’s Chihuahua, but as an actual social action. Heck, maybe you’ll even get crazy, sit on the couch, kick back and relax and not scream and shout nonsense at each other in between pulls of Malibu Rum.

Having a beer with someone is a sacred act to most men. When I am in someone else’s place of residence and someone comes up to me and says, “Hey man you want a beer?” my face normally lights up to the tune of this photo (only slightly less cute):


By partaking in this borderline sacramental act as a woman you are instantly becoming a cooler, more “chill” person to us Neanderthals. I am not being chauvinistic and implying that females should always be trying to impress their male counterparts, but I don’t think taking shots of vodka out of a water bottle and getting black out drunk, instead of hanging and having a few beers, ups your status in any way. I’d like to think powerful women such as Condoleezza Rice and Margaret Thatcher knew how to throw down a couple of bronsons during their formative years, and that “women” like Nicole “Snooki” Pulizzi and Kim Kardashian, the banes of human existence, have probably never drunk more then 12 ounces in their entire collective lives. Am I making assumptions here? Maybe. But I think they have merit.


My Celebrity Crush. Oh Condi, if I were 20 years older…

So what is the point of all my babbling? Basically ladies I’m just telling you it wouldn’t kill you to relax and have a beer every once in a while, because it probably makes you infinitely cooler and more interesting. I obviously cannot tell anyone what to drink, where to drink, or how to drink it. Who am I to judge? I am really just writing this post to say beer drinking girl, I love you. We all love you. You’re beautiful. Never change or conform to the “basic” culture that so many millenial females get wrapped up in. Keep doing you. That is all.


If it’s good enough for Rihanna, it’s good enough for you. She ain’t basic.


5 Drinkers You Meet on Spring Break

I am writing this in the wake of my first experience of Spring Break in the drinking paradise that is Panama City Beach, FL. Rather than give a recap of my personal experience that will more than likely hinder my ability to ever receive employment again, I decided to make yet another list. I realize that this blog is slowly becoming a series of rambling, yet delightfully humorous lists, but whatever it’s my blog and you can’t tell me what to do with it. Maybe I’ll just get a job at Buzzfeed or something.  

I encountered a bevy of different alcohol imbibers during my week-long escapade and decided I should classify them. For those of you who are not familiar with Panama City, it is a small city on the Florida panhandle that is sometimes referred to as the “Spring Break Capital of the World”. It is not your typical vacation town where you just lay on the beach, shop the boutiques, have some ice cream and maybe drink a Mai Tai or a Margarita. It is lined with bars with names like Harpoon Harry’s and Hammerhead Fred’s whose sole purpose is to get you as inebriated as possible. In addition, the beaches are filled by noon with large groups of scantily-clad college students from all over the country drinking liquor out of big water jugs and beer out of beer bongs. In other words, it’s anarchy, and there are a few different types of people one encounters in this lawless land, and I am, of course, here to describe them to you in detail.


1. The “Woo Girl”

This girl came down for one reason and one reason only: to take as many shots as possible and yell “WOOOO PANAMA CITY” while dancing to songs like “Timber” by Ke$ha and Pit Bull or “Turn Down for What?” by DJ Snake and Lil’ Jon. Once sufficiently inebriated (by about 1pm on most days) she will start stumbling around and talking to random guys walking on the beach and even the beach cops, while her poor boyfriend or friends from home try hopelessly to corral her. She inevitably ends up sleeping on the couch in her hotel by mid-afternoon and missing most of the fun but will put it off by saying “sorry I go hard” or something similar to that. There’s also a 75% chance she gets a tattoo that she regrets as soon as she leaves the Florida border.

Woo Girl Anthem.

2. The Wet Blanket

This person is a direct opposite of the Woo Girl and can be in male or female form. This person had no idea what Panama City was like before arriving and just came to get a tan and maybe get a little crazy on one or two nights. They had a whole agenda planned out: maybe rent a scooter and go mini-golfing, but mostly just lounge by the pool and just chill out. By day 3 they are miserable and want to go home because they are tired of taking care of their drunk friends and keeps insisting that they do “something else fun”. It’s okay, this person probably only came because they offered to pay more or their parents are allowing them to use their car. The wet blanket ends up getting home after the trip and finding new friends. 


This is how Wet Blanket pictured Spring Break.

3. The Push the Limits Guy

This man is what young men often call a “hardo”. He follows the lyrics of Kendrick Lamar’s hit single, “Swimming Pools”. (“Pour up, Drank. Head shot, Drank. Sit down, Drank. Stand up, Drank. Pass out, Drank. Wake up, Drank. Faded, Drank. Faded, Drank”). He wants to drink as much as he can and then brag about it to everyone around him. He is most likely found holding a bacteria-filled beer funnel, a case of Natty Lite and a handle of liquor and is hitting both very hard at an ungodly early hour. However, unlike the woo girl, he is of large physical stature and will literally drink until his body completely rejects any alcoholic substance that tries to enter it. He will then proceed to force it down his throat until he is laying passed out in the sand with handle still in hand. 

4. The Meathead Douche

This man-child is similar to the Push the Limits Guy only he does not actually drink very much and devotes much more time to hitting on girls and showing off his top-heavy physique. He still could be wielding a funnel but uses it mostly to find woo girls and get them to drink out of them and talk to him. He also has an inspirational quote tattooed somewhere on his body and is wearing a jersey or shirt from his high school sports team. He also insists on yelling out his college team cheer/fight song such as “Boomer Sooner” or “Pig Sooie”. Seriously though, this guy is horrible and probably has no friends in real life. He may or may not have come down by himself.

5. The Wanderer

The Wanderer is a mysterious fellow/gal. One minute they are enjoying drinks at the bar or dancing the night away and the next minute they vanish for reasons unknown. Maybe they are following someone from the opposite sex, or saw someone with food and immediately sprinted toward the nearest restaurant. Or maybe they saw a seagull and chased after it. Who knows? The point is, this person has no regard for their friends or what they might think if they leave their immediate area. They also often employ one of my all-time favorite moves, “The Irish Goodbye”


I know there are probably many more specific types but I think they all basically fit into one of these five categories. And everyone has been complaining about the length of my blogs. Plus I am still recovering from the past week so I don’t feel like writing anymore.  I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face: I’m the blogger of the people. 



Have a Ball During a Crawl

This weekend I had the pleasure of attending an organized St. Patty’s Day bar crawl in the area known as Fed Hill in Baltimore, and as a result I decided to blog about bar crawls at the request of a loyal reader. I am, after all, the self-proclaimed “people’s blogger” and truly respect my readers’ opinions. I mean, you were smart enough to follow this blog right? At least you’re doing one thing right with your life.

Anyway, I have attended a handful of these bar crawls and they seem to be all the rage with the young folk these days in places like Fed Hill, Baltimore and DuPont Circle, DC. Basically, for those of you reading from under your rock, these crawls involve a dozen or so bars in an area joining together to offer drink specials  to people with a ticket to the event, usually awarding them with a wristband or souvenir mug that they will inevitably lose. Sounds fun, right? You’re damn right it is, if you follow a few tried and true rules from yours truly. I won’t say if I have made any or all of these mistakes before, but let’s just say a “friend of mine” may have ended up taking a little snooze on the Metro last time and somehow woke up at the Greenbelt station. How “my friend” got home with all his possessions is beyond me. He is a lucky, lucky man. Without further ado, here is a mini-survival guide to reference so you do not end up in a drunken stupor that would make Randy Travis cringe. 

Randy Travis looking a little rough. Could his bender have started with a bar crawl? Who knows...

Randy Travis looking a little rough. Could his bender have started with a bar crawl? Who knows…

1. Hit the ATM machine. Even though these crawls are normally sponsored and offer reasonable drink specials, e.g. $2 drafts or $3 rails, you better believe you are gonna pay a pretty penny at these things. Taking out 50 or 60 doll-hairs before you start drinking at least gives you some idea of how much dough you are burning, and you won’t wake up the next morning screaming at your bank statement and taking out another mortgage on your non-existent house.

2. Sticking with the economic theme (some call me Bernanke Jr., is that a compliment…?), i suggest you stick to the specials for as long as possible. I know every fiber of your being wants to order a round of shots for you and your boys, girls, or just some random people you just met, but that is how you get royally screwed and end up calling Grandma for your birthday money six months early. These events would rather not have people being carried out on gurneys, so chances are there will not be a special for $2 shots. So for both your wallet and liver’s sake, stick to the beers and rails.

If you just so happen to be this guy, you can ignore rules 1 and 2.

If you just so happen to be this guy, you can ignore rules 1 and 2.

3. If you pregame, tread lightly. Who am I kidding? Of course you are going to pregame. As I alluded to in my previous masterpiece, we 20-somethings pregame everything. Just keep in mind that these events usually last all day, and you don’t want to be the person who ends up way too inebriated at the first bar an hour in. Have a beer or two, eat a sandwich and save the real drinking for the crawl.

4. Plan your transportation ahead of time. Jeez I sound like my mother. Whether it be via Metro, cab, Uber, a sober friend, a hot air balloon, or a camel, just make sure you have an exit strategy. It is inevitable that you will be separated from your original crew at some point. Charge your phone and plan an emergency meeting place just like your mommy used to do if you got lost at the playground or a stranger tried to talk to you. This is yet another reason to take out cash, because most taxis are stuck in the 1990s  and do not use credit card swipers yet.

Don't end up stranded in the big city like this little fella.

Don’t end up stranded in the big city like this little fella.

5. Other than transportation, there is no point in planning any other details out. There is always one Leslie Knope-esque bureaucrat in the group that tries to plan which bars the group will end up in. This is a fruitless endeavor. Chances are each person will have a couple drinks and immediately acquire their own agenda, perhaps running into an old pal or chasing some girl/guy to another bar. Plus, there is always at least one lame bar on the crawl that no one is digging and a couple bars that are more crowded than a Japanese subway car.

Alright I think I have covered all the bases here. If any readers ever find themselves stranded, broke, incarcerated, or absurdly intoxicated at one of these events, don’t say you were not warned. Just remember what Walter White said:

A Little Booze and You Never Lose

If any of you readers ventured off the beaten path into my “About the Blogger” tab, you will find that I attend the University of Maryland and am a pretty passionate sports fan. Therefore, it is only right for you to assume that I am in support of consuming alcohol at sporting events; not only because I write a blog about alcohol, but also because Maryland sports are currently so god-awful that one can only tolerate them with a good amount of libations.

Last week, the University announced that the Senate Executive Committee will hear a proposal on serving alcohol at athletic events. For the sake of stating the obvious, I, along with the rest of the local  population of Terp fans, was thrilled at the news. There is nothing like a cold beer or two during professional sporting events, so now the fact that I could potentially do this while watching the Terps in Byrd Stadium or the Comcast Center overwhelmed me with joy.


Alcohol served at Terps’ games? Gary likes that idea.

Being the complex, edgy writer that I am, I am not going to sit here and voice my support for this a million times over because what am I, crazy? Of course I support it. You, as a reader of my previous 2 blogs, should know this.  But there was a quote in the Diamondback article from the Student Government Association Student Affairs Vice President (what a mouthful) which made me chuckle heartily. He says that “it will allow for a safer environment for students” and, in essence, make them no longer feel the need to buy alcohol and get dangerously drunk prior to the games. This is such a laughable concept to me, and I can only see two explanations to this student representative’s reasoning:

1. He is a disconnected and clueless individual on this campus who actually thinks that students of our generation will not “pregame” something. It’s what 20-somethings do. We do not dare show up to anything, save for a job interview or midterm exam, without at least a beer or two in us. That’s just the cold hard facts. We feel the need to at least have something in our system before going out to a social function. It is ingrained in our constitutions. Just because there is an option to drink at the games as well does not mean students won’t still drink beforehand. Something about having the proverbial cake and eating it too just really gets us millenials going.


The Mecca of College Park: RJ Bentley’s Filling Station. Just Because.

2. He is a diabolical genius. This kid knows how to woo the guys upstairs. More alcohol=more revenue and we all know the Maryland Administration is all about the greenbacks these days. Plus, he knows that he and his bros want to drink during the games to keep their buzz on and make Maryland Athletics bearable. If this is somehow the explanation, then this is borderline Frank Underwood-esque and I respect it.


This brings me to my side point, which is how this reflects on the poor state of Maryland Athletics. And by Maryland Athletics, I mean the two sports that everyone cares about and pays money to see: Football and Basketball. The fact that attendance is poor and revenue is suffering reflects poorly not on the loyalty of the student body, who is already suffering through a painful move to the Big Ten next year, but the product on the field and court. I am not going to rant about the teams’ performance; I’ll leave that to my blogger friend John (shameless plug). I guess there is a possible silver lining to the suffering I have endured in the past few years, and it’s in the form of alcoholic beverages.

I know FSU won it all, but how embarrassing was this?

Don’t Look Like a Nincompoop on Social Media

I want to use this time to discredit one of the most common misconceptions of the young workforce today. I am referring to the notion that having an active social media account is automatically detrimental to a fledgling career, and that every photo or wall post containing/mentioning alcohol is just another reason for HR Representatives to not hire you. Obviously I am not a high-level recruiting expert, but I do like to think I have a relative amount of common sense and experience on the subject (cue my close friends’ howling laughter and automatic dismissal of this entire post). Of course, in this day in age, one would have to be incredibly naive to think that no prospective employer will ever research them on social media. However, one would be just as naive to think that 99.9% of employers would think less of you for having a drink or two in your college or post-grad years (that is, unless you are applying to be a Mormon minister of some sort). Basically what I am saying is, there are ways to enjoy alcohol and still look professional on the internet, and there are also ways to look like a total dingus. Knowing the difference is key, and I will try and help you out as much as I can.


Imagine how different this guy’s life would have been if social media was around during his adolescent years…

We have all heard the horror stories. Someone scores a great interview or is about to get a job offer at Stein, Stein & Stein Bros. & Co. Inc. LLC right out of college, and then someone catches wind of some risque drinking picture from a house party in 2007 and it all blows up in their face. Or, someone already has a job and posts a picture of themselves in the vicinity of alcohol and gets canned faster than the latest coach of the Cleveland Browns. Both are greatly exaggerated and the common denominator in these stories is not actually the alcohol, but the person’s perceived actions along with the alcohol. There are plenty of ways to combat this perception while still enjoying some drinks and posting pictures all over the place. Here are four simple “dos and don’ts” when it comes to managing what is on your profiles:

1. Allow yourself to look relatively comfortable in social drinking settings. By “comfortable” I mean relaxed and carefree, not wasted laying on the ground with the caption “#idgaf” or “#yolo”. Showing that you are not an awkward robot can be key especially to a company which believes in teamwork and camaraderie. A picture of you and your friends in a bar having a toast before graduation is a sign that you are normal, not a sign that you are an alcoholic.

2. It goes against every fiber of my being, but graduate from things like beer bongs, Edward 40-hands games and wizard staffs. Now, it’s a free country so I’m not saying to never ever by any means do these things, but I am saying that there should be no traceable evidence of you doing it. This makes you look like an idiot who likes to brag about how fast he can get cirrhosis of the liver and still talks about the time he went to the hospital after finishing a bottle of Tito’s from his mom’s liquor cabinet. Grow up, bro. Be real, would you be inclined to hire this guy after seeing this?


Does his shirt really say “Losers Rock”?

3. Manage your comments. What your friend from high school or fraternity brother/sorority sister says on a picture of you is just as telling as the picture or status itself. In light of this whole Richie Incognito-Jonathan Martin scandal, the chummy, foul-mouthed locker room culture is catching a lot of flack. If your friend decides to call you a *female dog* or *another name for a cat* you should probably delete it because it exposes that you two hang out regularly and that you have more likely than not used the same language. Just delete it and face the music from your friend.

4. This is another one that goes against my deepest instincts, but be drinking something somewhat classy in your photos. I am not saying that you need to be drinking Stella Artois, Dogfish Head IPA’s or Dom Perignon in every Facebook picture, but to go along with Tip #2, a picture of you double-fisting 24 ounce Natty Ices is probably not the greatest idea in the world. Spring for Budweiser, Coors or Miller Lite at least just to show you have some semblance of taste.


Think Ray Liotta in 1800 Tequila Commercials, not Matthew McConaughey in True Detectives.

I am not saying I have never been guilty of any of these violations. If I weren’t guilty of them I probably would not have the proper perspective to even talk of such things. So do not look at me as a stuck-up, goody two shoes who turns his nose up at the drinking culture of the college co-ed. I’m just looking out for you guys. Think of me as a wise old sage doing you a favor by giving you fair warning. But make sure you know, as Charles Barkley once said:

“I am not a role model”

A Drinking Blog. How Original, Right?

Hello readers and a warm welcome to those of you who think this blog is about a college kid talking about how much he loves booze and getting drunk at college parties and bars. Welcome also to those of you who think this is a snobby, know-it-all review about the latest micro brew or Pinot Noir. Unfortunately for both of you presumptuous browsers, I am not just a borderline alcoholic, hyperbolic, story-telling product of higher education; Nor am I a high-class wine and beer tasting connoisseur with weird-shaped taste-enhancing glassware. Sorry to disappoint, but I think if you stick around you will enjoy my blog anyway. Do not get me wrong, I am a legally-aged college student and “aspiring young professional” who loves to have a few drinks. I also like to put in my two cents about a new brand of alcohol I am trying. However, my main purpose of this blog is to delve into the world of alcohol from the perspective of a person toeing the line between college drinking into real-world drinking.


American heartthrob Justin Timberlake grabbing some shade and enjoying a cold brew on a sunny day.

What place our tech-savvy “millenial” generation takes in society has been talked about ad nauseam in blogs, news reports, studies etc. We are constantly connected to our social media accounts, apparently eroding years of classic dating culture and chivalry. It is easy to see how our Neanderthal parents and grandparents, who have actually operated things like typewriters, rolodexes and home telephones, are utterly perplexed at how odd and different we are. I can’t blame them. While this sociological topic fascinates me as much as the next person, I figured I could talk about a personally familiar subject that affects everyone in our futuristic, alien-like age bracket in one way or the other.

Over the years, the consumption and production of alcohol has transcended barriers of age, race, language, and everything in between. It has also survived the Temperance Movement, Prohibition, and heavy taxation and regulation. This is probably due to the fact that alcohol is enjoyed by so many and completely ingrained in world cultures dating back thousands of years. (Insert cheap yet witty quip about how it makes people better looking and more interesting).


Susan B. Anthony, leader of the Temperance Movement and aspiring supermodel*

I have a relatively go-with-the-flow attitude toward this whole blogging concept and am basically going to write whatever pops into my sometimes scatter-brained head. But I guess to give readers a preview, I can guarantee some humorous posts about various observational experiences with alcohol from a modern 20-something, with plenty of pop culture and historical references to boot. Whether it’s a post involving tips for attending a work-sponsored happy hour, definitions of different types of drinkers (there are plenty out there), or commentary on different alcohol-related news, any person with a sense of humor and an affinity for the culture and consumption of alcohol will be sure to enjoy this blog. All cultural undertones aside, as long as my readers are entertained and have a nice chuckle, then I shall rest easy. I can also wholeheartedly guarantee that this will be the most boring post I ever publish. So join me. Let’s grab a drink.


*Susan B. Anthony was not a supermodel. She was a great American and the supermodel crack was a bit cruel and uncalled for. My apologies, Ms. Anthony. You were on the dollar coin for a reason.