I don't give a fuck.

I used to get drunk A LOT.

I went to a private arts college for 18 months straight, no summer vacation. The first 3, I was quiet, and going through a lot of shit. I was only 18, and the legal drinking age here is 19, so, I didn’t drink a lot, and hadn’t really drank excessively before that. Which is a big deal where I come from, everyone starts around 12. We’re the Irish capital of Canada, what do you expect.

Anyway, so, semester two of school starts, I turned 19 a week after it started, I open up more to my classmates. Phil and Ashley, and hang out with them… our favorite thing to do, was get wasted every Tuesday, we called it Trashed Tuesday. Which I say wasted, I mean Canadian wasted. I like to think Canadian’s handle their liquor better, and when they get wasted, it means almost black out, or black out. I don’t actually remember any Tuesday of second semester, which I’m fine with, they probably sucked.

One of the girls that was in our class, Lindsay, had come to Trashed Tuesday’s and invited her roommate, Derrick, to come over one night, as I needed rice for my fuckin phone, cause I had dropped it in my drink. OH, side note, this wasn’t the first phone I had broken while drunk, I fucked a lot of them up, we were on number 18 at that point. Derrick and I clicked, we hung out a lot after that at Trashed Tuesdays.

Lindsay and Derrick were involved with a musical production about the 90’s, and afterwords were having a party, clearly I went. It was a party; WHO TURNS DOWN A PARTY. There I met some fantastic people, who I hung out with a lot at karaoke events, and other parties after the 90’s party.

We started to go to karaoke to get drunk. It was always a gong show. I remember once pre-drinking for karaoke while in class, and I had more glitter on my eyelids than Ke$ha. Then once we got to karaoke later that night, there were a group of french boys, who were celebrating being done school and going back to Quebec as they had just graduated, or were finished for the summer - there was a definite language barrier. One of them had bought a bunch of shots, but his friends weren’t all taking some, so he asked another girl and I, if we wanted some. We took them, no big deal… or so I thought. About 15 minutes after I had taken my few shots, the guy looks at me, and for some reason, we just started making out. Then I had that whole moment of, what the FUCK am I doing? Lindsay was outside, so, I went out there, you know, just to clear my head. Buddy boy comes outside looking for me, beer in hand, and waves at Lindsay, then kissed me again. Meanwhile, in the background some french boy at another bar, is yelling shit, I have no idea what he’s saying, but it’s apparently offensive, and the guy I’m mackin on, is like, “One moment, I’m going to take care of this.” WOOSH, beer bottle goes flying. Then they both get kicked out of the bars they’re in.

That’s probably the most interesting karaoke story. To make it even better, I still don’t know who that guy is, I’ll find out someday.

Moral of this chapter, getting drunk, can get you basically laid, or whatever you want… or raped. Don’t drink kids.