Back when I was a newly christened college student, out of my parents house and ready to “Party Like It’s 1999” (Get it? Because it was 1999 then!! AHAHAHAHAHaaaaah… right, back to the story) I made a fool of myself.
No, it wasn’t because I bleached my goatee until I’d successfully burnt off several layers of skin on my chin.
This picture is here in case you didn’t feel like clicking the link above to read the story about how I burnt the living crap out of my chin with bleach… I really was THAT stupid.
No, it wasn’t because I once went to Denny’s at three o’clock in the morning in nothing but boxer shorts and a purple bathrobe.
No, it wasn’t because I walked 16 miles down the highway still spinning on Long Island Iced Tea’s in the dead of night to get my truck I’d left downtown (that’s a good one… I need to write about that).
It was simply because I’m just a bad listener and frankly… am kind of an idiot.
I was still getting used to living a life of freedom from underneath the watchful eye of my father and going where ever the hell I wanted… EVEN ON A SCHOOL NIGHT!!
This one particular evening, my best friend/roommate and I went with some newly acquired friends of ours to a “rush” party for some fraternity I can’t remember the name of. We went uninterested in ever rushing or joining a fraternity, because that’s where people go to “buy their friends”.
Hey!! Wait!! That’s me in a fraternity photo (on the floor in the middle)!! I guess that would make me a hypocrite!
Anyway, we heard that there were fountains of flowing Coors Light, Keystone Light and Bud Light (a.k.a. friggin’ nasty shit but we didn’t know any better back then) at parties like this. All we had to do was pretend that we were interested in rushing their stupid fraternity and they’d hand over the booze because we were then “potential rushees”.
Upon entering the house where this party was located I was forced to immediately assume that this fraternity was full of nothing but… you guessed it: cocky douchebags.
Hey!! Wait!! That’s me again in a fraternity photo!! I guess that means… you guessed it: I’m a cocky douchebag.
We were there early, or at least I thought we were, judging by the complete absence of any sorority girls. Some drunk dude with a shirt two sizes too small waved us into the kitchen where him and some of his douchbag buddies were “bonging” beers.
“Hey! C’mon in guys! Welcome to the Cocky Douchebag party!” he said as his tight shirt was slowly suffocating him.
No… he didn’t look like this. I know you were momentarily worried.
As a group we had a staunch belief in not hanging out with douchebags… but if free beer was involved almost any human being was acceptable to be around. So, we entered the douchebag kitchen and slowly commented on what small towns in Oklahoma we were from and what our names were while scanning the kitchen for this free trough of cheap beer we’d heard urban legends about.
We didn’t see one.
We continued the formalities of “getting to know” everyone in quiet expectation of at any moment someone would offer us an ice cold Keystone Light. YUM!
Some dude with a popped collar and a hemp necklace asked me, “So what’s your name dude?”
Hey!! That’s him!! That’s the guy who asked me my name!!
I proceeded to tell him my first and last name.
STOP! PAY ATTENTION! YOU MUST READ THIS PARAGRAPH OR YOU WILL NOT GET THE UPCOMING JOKE: My last name is of German origin. Most people question it because (a) it’s fairly unique or (b) at some point in their life have known someone with my last name.
Popped collar douchebag then asked me, “So… are you rushin’?”
Without hesitation and because I was used to questions about my last name, I said, “Oh no… actually I’m German.”
All the douchebags at that point stopped what they were doing, my friends all sucked in an embarrassed breath and I stood there momentarily confused as to what the sudden silence was all about.
“Dude… I mean are you rushing the fraternity?”
The laughing in the kitchen gradually increased until it was nearly unbearable. Loose tiles popped out of the kitchen floor, the refrigerator plug vibrated out of the socket and the douchebag with the tight shirt busted all the capillaries in his neck and forehead.
As a result of my idiocy, I successfully (and accidentally) broke the ice, saved the day and the douchebags showed us their stash of never-ending cheap beer located behind a false wall and shrouded with fake plants.
The only other thing I remember from that night was drinking an entire beer that was poured off a second floor balcony into my mouth.
And that hitchhiker we accidentally ate.
What? I didn’t say it was a hilarious story.