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!!

fbf-1

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I’ve Shown You Mine… Let’s See Yours.

Oh…well hello there. I didn’t see you come in. Since you’re here, allow me to introduce myself:

 

This is an excellent example of what I assume "White Girls Be Like". (Note: duckface, headphones, laptop cam)
This is an excellent example of what I assume “White Girls Be Like”. (Note: duckface, headphones, laptop cam, etc.)

^^That’s me^^

My name is Alanna [LastNameRedacted] for legal reasons, obviously. I am currently 21 years old and studying English at Penn State University. Not the real one, though, with football, Jerry Sandusky, and lions roaming around terrorizing the halls (which is probably true). No, just one of the small satellite campuses where kids go because they couldn’t get into the real one. Mine is located in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania and used to be a military base/fallout shelter because of the close proximity to a nuclear power plant. Also an international airport.

(Talk about asking for a terrorist attack.)

(Or possibly lion terrorists. Which definitely roam the halls of Penn State.)

 

I’m blogging here because I’ve always dreamed of being a writer, but publishing companies aren’t chomping at the bit to pick up an inexperienced writer with no ideas and like, 15 years of journals. I am also blogging because Jenny Lawson (a.k.a. The Bloggess) said she could see me blogging.

Maybe she’s psychic and literally saw me blogging in her mind or possibly a crystal ball.

 

I suppose my domain name (whitegirlsbelike) is correct (because I AM in fact a white girl, and I DO be like…etc.), but please note that this blog is for all races and I just suck at coming up with titles and such. However, this blog will pretty much be about my life and thoughts and that stuff.

The only problem is that I generally have a “Not Safe For Work” approach to my life, and I hope my parents don’t see this. (If you know them, please don’t tell them. Thank you.) I’m not gonna be all “diary-style”, but much of my anecdotal repertoire features major themes such as drugs, alcohol, sex (kind of), and various other criminal activities.

You’ve been warned.

Beware of bat attacks. And lion terrorists.
Beware of bat attacks. And lion terrorists.

 

Sooo anywaysss…..

Now that you all know me, we can be best friends.

Yayy! :)

 

Also, you can comment here and tell me all your deepest, darkest, most incredible secrets. For example, I’ve been stuck in traffic while having to pee really bad on multiple occasions without something to pee in, so I’ve peed my pants IN MY CAR approximately 3 times. Perhaps four?

So what are YOUR secrets? Or thoughts? Maybe you were conceived in a dumpster? Or possibly you’ve murdered your entire family? Let me know!! I don’t judge, I promise.

 

Adios, amigos! Have an excellent rest of the day!