Funny Blog Friday II: The Naked Quarter-Mile

(“In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups. The police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories…”)

Hello everyone! Welcome back to Funny Blog Friday! I totally forgot to write this post yesterday due to excessive napping and forgetfulness, so I’m kind of slapping together something quick before time runs out. Please visit all the FBF bloggers because they’re awesome and some of them are giving away more prizes (plus, you all know you need a laugh).

This story, dear friends, stays in the realm of themes of my recent posts: exes, alcohol, trouble of all kinds, Alanna (the heroine of our tale) rising above moral depravity and, as usual, taking the high road. Before I tell the harrowing story of how I got my very first underage drinking, I’d like to point out that everything I say may or may not be factual, so if you’re a cop, keep walking. There’s nothing to read here.

Our Tale Begins On The Eve Of Labor Day Weekend, 2012…

‘Twas Friday, August 31st. A warm day, though not too hot for jeans. I had just moved into my college dorm only a week prior. My school was stupid and put me in the freshman dorms even though I was a sophomore, so I shared a room with a nice young girl who was really religious and had Jesus stuff all over. That weekend, she was going home to visit her family so I thought it would be a good idea to invite my then-boyfriend over to stay for the holiday. How very wrong I was…

Zach and I had the entire weekend planned: we’d chill Friday night around campus, go to the local farmer’s market on Saturday (which my father actually had a surprise for us instead), and basically just lie around watching tv after sitting on a bench making fun of the runners and skateboarders on Sunday. A relaxing weekend for a couple who usually never got a chance for relaxation due to our constant and almost compulsive need to cause trouble.

Friday afternoon, we were at Zach’s father’s house, arriving just as they left for their annual Labor Day weekend trip to their cabin somewhere in Pennsylvania. We (actually, I) immediately broke into the lock on their keg fridge, and we proceeded to fill empty water bottles with beer. After a few hours of drinking beer, watching tv, and looking through his father’s and step mother’s things just for random laughs and being nosy, we packed up the rest of our beer and headed back to my campus. It was awesome. Almost nobody was there and we finished the beer while cranking Lil’ Wayne and manically dancing in my dorm room.

I should have known something was wrong when we went downstairs to smoke a cigarette and Zach tried sliding down the railing, but fell right over the side and busted his ass on the ground. Everyone who was hanging out in the common room totally saw it and rushed over to be all, “Is he okay?!?!” As Zach cracked up laughing and hobbled down the remaining stairs, I said, “Yeah, he’s fine. You kids never saw this.” And ran out before the R.A. who wanted me dead (sort of) saw us being drunk.

Earlier that week, I made friends with a group of Engineering majors who lived in one of the adjacent dorms (which were basically apartments) and since they were mostly all over 21, I’d hang with them and drink. I got the foolish idea that maybe my new friends (all of whom were guys, by the way) would get along with Zach and we’d all have a nice time. Plus, I wanted to drink more, so ya know, win-win. Or so I thought…

The second Zach and I arrived at my friends’ dorm, he started giving offensive nicknames to them. My Marine friend was “Jarhead”. My friend whose parents were from Germany was “Germany”. (Some of them I can’t repeat and others I can’t remember. I was drinking, too.) When “Germany” arrived, he had some vanilla-flavored rum and Cherry Coke which he made into a drink he was proud of. Zach’s first words to him were, “Your drink really matches your sandals.”

(What a dick.)

Basically, Zach embarrassed the shit out of me in front of all my new friends, acting like a total asshole and telling them some extremely private things. He even downed like half of a half-gallon of Evan Williams which belonged to “Germany”. (The next morning, my one friend texted me that everyone agreed they didn’t want Zach to come back because of his behavior.) So once things officially got out of control that night, I tried to make him act as sober as possible for the 100-yard walk back to my building. Everything seemed fine. (Especially after we smoked a joint in the shower. Not like “in” the shower, but in the part of the bathroom with the shower because it has a vent and you can turn the water up really hot so… blah blah, etc.) Then we fall asleep. In my mind, the giant “Mission Accomplished” banner was flying beautifully.

Yet just like the tragic tale of my hero, G-Dub, our mission was anything but "accomplished".
Yet just like the tragic tale of my hero, G-Dub, our mission was anything but “accomplished”.

I stirred from my sweet slumber from fists pounding on my door and loud voices from the hallway yelled at me to, “Open up!” The clock on my bedside table read 5:11 and Zach was nowhere to be seen. I said, “Alright, alright! I’m coming!” already annoyed that someone would dare wake me up at this unholiest of times. (I’m a really deep sleeper and I tend to punch people who try to wake me up.)

I opened the door to see a campus “police officer” (air quotes and sarcastic tone) and the Residential Life Coordinator (whatever that is) standing before me. If I gave any attitude, it’s because it was 5 o’clock on a Saturday morning and I hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Do you know Zach ____? He says he’s a guest of yours.”

“Yes…” What in the fuck could he have possibly done this time?! I thought to myself.

“We caught him running around campus naked and appearing to be intoxicated. He’s currently being held in the jail cell until his parents arrive. He says his clothing is here?”

(WHAT A DICK.)

I composed myself and got his clothes to give to the “police officer”.

“Wait, like jail? At the station downtown?”

“No, the campus headquarters [lol, “headquarters”] has a holding cell.”

So he’s in pretend prison? But I didn’t say that outloud because then this asshole started asking me questions.

“Was Zach drinking this evening?”

It’s morning, dickhead. “Yes.”

“May we come inside to check your room?”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“No, we don’t need one. Campus policy.” (LIES LIES LIES LIES. They TOTALLY need a warrant, but that’s a story for another time.)

They come inside and ask me stupid shit and this guy’s acting like he’s a real cop or something, and SURPRISE! He doesn’t find any evidence of drugs or alcohol.

“Were you drinking as well?”

“No.”

“Let me smell your breath.” (Hey, kids: this is 100% illegal. If a cop ever asks you this question, bring up the 4th Amendment and send his pig-ass packing. #themoreyouknow)

“Uhh… no, I just woke up.” (He then MAKES me do it. Then he coerces me into telling him I drank which is also totally illegal.)

“I just had some beer.”

“Oh really?” maniacally laughing. “Doesn’t smell like you just drank ‘some beer’. That beer have rubbing alcohol in it?” Laughs again. I consider what murder would do to my transcript. “Well, I’m charging you for underage drinking. This is a copy of your citation. You’ll get a letter telling you when to be in court, I suggest A.R.D. Have a nice weekend.”

If you can read that, you'll understand why the dick is there.
If you can read that, you’ll understand why the dick is there.

So there’s the story of how I got my first and only law violation because my ex ran around my college naked. (He got locked out to go to the bathroom and thought that the giant blue emergency lights were telephones.) I also missed the phone call Saturday morning from my dad who had planned to fly me and my cousins to a Phillies game in Atlanta at Turner-freakin’-Stadium. I don’t know what the moral here is, people, but college is stupid and Penn State can eat it. The end.

Check out some funny posts from the folks at Funny Blog Friday!

Victoria of Angst Anarchy

Jamie of Fits of Wit

Jessie of Jessie Reyna & Jessie Janelle Reyna

HE Ellis of HE Ellis

Ben of Ben’s Bitter Blog

Jenn of Properly Ridiculous

Alice of Alice At Wonderland

Lisa of Buddhaful Britt

JC of JCS Bloggery

Sarah of No Cry Babies

Elke of The Pretty Platform

Jack of The Things I see Up Here

Chicks A & E of Too Funny Chicks

Charly of Crazy Life

Kevin of Trailer Trash Deluxe

Karilin of That Nameless Color

Arthur from Pouring My Art Out

Happy Funny Blog Friday everybody!!

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“Bloody Mary, Full Of Vodka, Blessed Are You Among Cocktails. Pray For Me Now At The Hour Of My Death, Which I Hope Is Soon. Amen.”

(That’s from “Archer” but it rings true here as well. Thank God for Russians. And tomato juice.)

Ahh yess… I am quite the lucky one. I’ve been given the glorious task of contributing pictures of my ex boyfriend for his birthday party/girlfriend’s baby shower. And because of my blessed Catholic guilt, I agreed to do it. So as I sit here, cropping myself out of memories and chugging bloody mary’s, I have to wonder…

Is there such a thing as “too much” vodka?

I’ve concluded there is not, although I know this in my heart to be false. However, I’m unsure if I currently have a heart because there is nothing inside me but alcohol and numbness. (Also tomato juice, which is giving me a bit of heartburn.)

I’ve created a fun new drinking game out of this pain and loneliness: take a drink whenever I start to cry.

(At present, I am plastered.)

Do you guys remember that game (and/or “horror-fest”) that you played as children when you’d go into the bathroom at midnight and say “Bloody Mary” 3 times in the mirror? Well even though she doesn’t appear and slaughter you (spoiler alert), you will see a crazed redheaded woman screaming with makeup running down her face.

At least that’s what I see.

bloody mary tumblr

Despite the fact that I was always more of a Queen Elizabeth fan, I’m starting to understand Mary Tudor’s methods. (Not killing Protestants. I just mean the whole “burning people” thing.) She was just pissed, that’s all. Her lovely mother was replaced by a trashy ho named Anne Boleyn and she wasn’t about to let her shitty hypocrite father stomp all over her beliefs. “Defender of the Faith”, my ass! Thinks he’s a goddamn prophet…

Anyways, people should quit giving her a raft of shit because I’d probably do the same thing if my father tossed my mom out and tried to disown me…

oh, wait! He totally did! (The latter part at least.)

mary tudor bloody mary

Also, thank you very much to my ex and his family for giving me the task of providing you with pictures that I TOOK.

kenny powers meme

So fuck them and fuck everybody and have a nice day. Also check out this post from Thought Catalog that reminded me of my post from a couple weeks ago. God bless and peace out and whatever else people say. I’m getting too drunk to see the keyboard.

UPDATE NOVEMBER 13th, 2014:

I totally emailed her the pictures and said something like, “Here’s the pictures, congratulations on everything! Wishing you all the best! *smiley face* ” and guess what the fuck she said in her response email…

“Thank you for the pictures. Your being really nice about this whole baby thing I know it’s hard because you still have feelings for zach but we are about to start a family and you gotta understand where I’m coming from when I ask you to stop contacting him.”

Ignoring all the grammar and spelling mistakes, I’m sitting here like WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?!?! I don’t even contact him, HE contacts ME and I don’t want to be a part of their shitty little family!!!

(As though I’d leave my current fantastic boyfriend and get together with my ex so he can be a giant anchor shackled to my foot forever pulling me deeper and deeper into the water until I’m drowning in regret and clutching onto his child who calls me “Aunt Alanna”.)

Absolutely not! Ridiculous

So I responded with this:

“Of course, I totally respect that and I wish you both the best. I won’t contact Zach anymore and I’m truly sorry if I’ve offended you in any way. That was never my intention. I really do wish you both happiness and I’m glad that I could help with the pictures. I promise you won’t be hearing from me anymore lol :)”

BECAUSE THAT IS WHO THE FUCK I AM, PEOPLE. THAT IS WHO. I. AM.!!!!!!!!!

*drops mic*

Stumbling Upon your Ex’s Baby Registry. And Other Things That Make You Vomit.

(She’s got leggings on there. And a whole stupid Pinterest board with cute ideas. Fucking bitch…)

I’m pretty sure I’ve only really been in love once. Depending on how you define it, I believe real love is being able to put someone else’s needs before your own. That’s how I know I’ve only felt that for one person. It sounds terribly selfish, but I feel like I’ll never want to fold a person’s t-shirts (store-style) ever again. Or wake up at 4:00am to drive someone to work when they stupidly lost their driver’s license.

It’s actually really weird to care about another person that hard. (I can barely do my own laundry.)

You just have to be honest about certain things.
You just have to be honest about certain things.

Like, how else would I have known that my ex’s child is due to be born in February? Or that his new girlfriend is planning to breastfeed? These are crucial pieces of knowledge, people. It’s as easy as “One, two, type that bitch’s name into Google.”

But lucky for me, I’ve “gone through” enough men to calm the crippling roar of my feelings into a faint growl. I’m pretty sure I’m over him. However, being over someone and wanting to know what they’re doing are not mutually exclusive. I still even creep on my middle/high school crush sometimes. (He seems happy, too… jerk.)

However, I can sufficiently say I am over my ex. I can wish him luck honestly and look back fondly on our time together with no regrets. We really did have fun together. :)

(My ex and I)
(My ex and I, always keeping it weird.)

Granted, I’ll never feel totally comfortable seeing him or his family and I’ll probably (subconsciously) hate the tiny life form he produced. I’ll never shop at Five Below because I know I’ll see his baby mamma there. But… hold up

Good Lord, there’s ANOTHER parade going down my street. It must be the local high school’s homecoming because there’s girls with crowns sitting on the back of convertibles (which, by the way, never seemed terribly safe to me). I didn’t go to my homecoming. (Too hungover.) I forgot how loud this shit is, though. Drumlines are no joke.

Anyways, in the spirit of letting go things from my past, I say “Bon Voyage” to all. I wish everyone all the best. I may even buy something off the registry for Zach and his upcoming child. Perhaps some tiny hats?

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In A George-Carlin-Kinda-Mood, So Ya Know… Preparing For Death.

(I realize that he’s already dead, but he was basically dead for like 30 years before he died. If I had to do a stand-up routine right now, it’d just be bitching about everything/everyone in a raspy old voice and I’d be wearing all black.)

So my uncle died a few months ago, but he was pretty important I guess so he’s being buried in November in Arlington National Cemetery. I personally think it’s a little weird to keep a body around for so long (3 months and counting), but Arlington is like a super exclusive club for dead people and there’s a waiting list and even bouncers (military guys). My uncle’s name was Carlton Sherwood and he was a famous journalist guy and won a Pulitzer Prize. He was really cool and nice to me, even though I only knew him for maybe the last 10 years of his life, but he helped me out when my stupid local newspaper tried to anally rape me in my freshman year of high school (2nd paragraph). (Click that. I wrote the 2nd paragraph myself, bahaha.) UPDATE: They removed my shit except for the quote. But that’s life I suppose. Wikipedia is a dick too.

Doesn't he look like such a boss? I typed his name into Google Images and Harrison Ford came up, too. I think that says it all right there.
Doesn’t he look like such a boss? I typed his name into Google Images and Harrison Ford came up, too. I think that says it all right there.

Anyways, his funeral is gonna be all exclusive and whatever and you actually have to register your name. (I think so that the C.I.A. or something can background-check you, just in case you would try to kamikaze a funeral. Although, it wouldn’t make much sense considering the person is already dead. Now I’m rambling.) But his best friend was Tom Ridge (former governor or Pennsylvania, U.S. Representative, and first Secretary of Homeland Security), so he’ll probably be there. I should have met him once but my mom and step dad didn’t invite me to their wedding… dicks. Also, there is an actual real-life possibility that George W. Bush might be there. By the transitive property, there is an actual real-life possibility that I might die of excitement/awe. He is my hero.

So all this started making me think about my own funeral and death (especially since meeting George W. Bush would pretty much trump everything on my bucket list and I could die happily). I started listing my final wishes to [my boyfriend], and it began to sound like a George Carlin stand-up routine. Slightly less bitter, though. I always thought it would be funny to make a themed funeral entitled “Putting the ‘FUN‘ Back in ‘FUN-ERAL‘”.

NOBODY STEAL THAT. SERIOUSLY. I WILL COME TO YOUR FUNERAL, BRING YOU BACK TO LIFE, AND KILL YOU ALL OVER AGAIN. Then I’d kick your grandchildren in their tiny faces.

I’d put it in my will that people can only talk about awesome shit I did (which will be a lot, possibly), and that they could only play fun upbeat music of my own choosing. Also, I was gonna say no open casket, but then I thought about how funny it would be if I had a “Weekend at Bernie’s” setup where I’m sitting up in a wheelchair wearing sunglasses and maybe a string around my wrist so you could pull on it and I’d wave.

(But imagine me there instead.)
(But imagine me there instead.)

I don’t actually own anything, except my car, so I figure everybody can just have what they want. First come, first serve. But if I ever become a famous writer, I want all my journals to be locked in a golden chest with my favorite drinking cup and one of my giant pill bottles a la Ark of the Covenant. (Don’t quote me on that. My history might be a little off.)

(On a total side note, the other morning I was sleeping and someone kept knocking on my door for what felt like an hour and eventually, I got so frustrated that I got out of bed, started yelling about how if someone hasn’t opened their door after you knock like 50 billion times then they probably don’t want to answer the goddamn door, and after I angrily stomped down the stairs, I opened the door and a state police lady was standing there. I was so shocked, all I could say was ,”Oh.” Turned out she was looking for somebody else, but I felt really bad and tried to apologize but she was all, “Sorry for bothering you,” in a really nice way and left.)

Regardless, we can all take a little life/death advice from George Carlin:

"So, have a little fun. Soon enough you'll be dead and burning in Hell with the rest of your family." -George Carlin
“So, have a little fun. Soon enough you’ll be dead and burning in Hell with the rest of your family.”
-George Carlin

:)

And So Begins The Learning. Beware.

(“Sir, I am too old to learn.” Said Kent in William Shakespeare’s King Lear. I am inclined to agree.)

Of course, today was excruciatingly hot outside. Perfect conditions for classroom swamp-ass. All the freshmen were hopping around in excitement, unaware that the next 4 years of their lives will be shitty.

On the bright side, we got new planners for this year that feature pictures of the student body (weird, but whatever) and I am totally in there! It’s hilarious!

You can barely see me and it's on the very last page but still... SUCCESS!!
You can barely see me and it’s on the very last page but still… SUCCESS!!

In sophomore year, the housing people got confused and put me in the freshmen dorms. It was really fun because they were so cute at first and looked up to me like I was their queen. There were a lot of kids from India and they would call my name (“Ah-lah-na!”) and it would instantly bring a smile to my face. The only bad thing was when I rejected the advances of my R.A., he got all weird and accused me of keying and kicking his car.

(As though I EVER owned a pair of Vans sneakers… how rude.)

Although I did in fact draw a penis on his official R.A. picture on the first day there, but he didn’t even notice until like a month into school. Then when he replaced it with another one, I drew two penises. Haha :P

This is only a recreation of the original, but you get the point. My penis-drawing skills are wanting.
This is only a recreation of the original, but you get the point.

It was a good year. I met the love of my life that year ([my boyfriend]), and had a great group of friends who could’ve made up the cast of a multi-cam sitcom. Then a couple of them joined a fraternity (ughh), and some others left our campus or graduated. Now I’m in my “senior year” (I put that in quotes because I’ll definitely be making up credits for the rest of my life), and I’d like to share some quotes about college as well as some general wisdom:

1. “I imagine that one of the biggest troubles with colleges is there are too many distractions, too much panty-raiding, fraternities, and boola-boola and all of that.” -Malcom X

So true. Fraternities are evil and partying is the reason I do great on tests/papers but have bad grades because I’m too hungover to show up. I can’t say I do this myself, but the successful kids are able to prioritize and keep self-discipline.

2. “You can’t learn to write in college. It’s a very bad place for writers because the teachers always think they know more than you do—and they don’t.” -Ray Bradbury

Also very true. But sometimes not. Sometimes, the teachers do know more than you do. That can mean one of two things: either you’re still learning and developing your voice/style, or you’re just a bad writer. If the latter is true, I’m sorry. Maybe you can write textbooks or for your local newspaper. However, if you’re counted among the former, don’t listen to people who tell you you’re shit or give you bad grades. Sometimes you have to write the bullshit that your professor will like rather than what is actually good. I had a class last year where the teacher knocked off points for happy fucking endings. (?) It’s all nonsense.

3. “I’m a man of leisure. That’s because I have an English degree and can’t get a job.” -Jarod Kintz

It sounds stupid, but despite the current job market, just pick a major you’re going to enjoy. I probably should have been pre-law, but I also would have jumped off a building by now. Even though I’m a slacker, I enjoy my classes. It makes college a million times easier.

4. “I mean that they (students) should not play life, or study it merely, while the community supports them at this expensive game, but earnestly live it from beginning to end. How could youths better learn to live than by at once trying the experiment of living? Methinks this would exercise their minds as much as mathematics.” -Henry David Thoreau

Oh, hey, that’d be great, Thoreau! Unfortunately we live in the real world and chilling on a pond for a while (and going home to mommy every weekend, by the way, which he totally did) doesn’t put a degree in your hand. Even though college sucks, it’s good for you. Like going to church or eating your vegetables. But if you do go to college, still live your life. It often feels like you’re in a waiting room filled with drunk children for 4 years, but if you step outside, take a walk, and remember this is still your life, things won’t be so bad.

5. “In your temporary failure there is no evidence that you may not yet be a better scholar, and a more successful man in the great struggle of life, than many others, who have entered college more easily.” -Abraham Lincoln

Just because you didn’t get into a top school (or even a university) or you’re having trouble with classes or WHATEVER, doesn’t mean you’re stupid. You rock. You’re smart. Fuck the admissions people and your professor who thinks Nietzsche is the only philosopher worth paying attention to and gave you a “D” on your paper glorifying Aristotle. Dumbasses get into Harvard and geniuses have gone to community college. As long as you try, that’s all that matters.

6. “Thought and knowledge are natures in which apparatus and pretension avail nothing. Gowns, and pecuniary foundations, though of towns of gold, can never countervail the least sentence or syllable of wit. Forget this, and out American colleges will recede in their public importance whilst they grow richer every year.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Again, it doesn’t matter where you go. An education is an education, and all the fanfare of major colleges is bullshit. The only thing that matters is your own thirst for knowledge and how you choose to implement the information you’re receiving. College is supposed to breed curiosity, not pageantry.

Well, that’s all I have to say on the matter. A lot of the quotes I found were stupid or redundant, so this is what I have. Make all the mistakes, drink all the beer, have as much (safe) sex as you can. Enjoy that shit.

Also, I started a store on Zazzle, so check it out. I’ve only made like 2 things so far but you can customize your own merchandise and create your own store for free! it’s mad cool.

Adios, for now. Love y’all. :)

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