The Frisbee Social Plus

I do this partially, oddly enough, to test my sobriety. I've always sworn that I wouldn't blog, telephone, or otherwise contact people after drinking, but so many people were annoying me tonight with their "you're drunk"s and similar sentiments that I feel that some record of my current state (at most, buzzed) is necessary.

Jonas had a picnic today. That's how this story begins, with another person, and on some level I suppose that's appropriate. It is, in any case, an interesting sidenote.

Jonas had a picnic today, complete with crackers and cheese and that inexplicable snack known as "ants on a log." He had a picnic in a fort, his way of seeming original for that seventh-oldest of human traditions: a first date. It was a cool fort.

Meanwhile, The Politician and, to a lesser extent, Ben, had been brooding all week, planning some sort of drunken shin-dig. The Politician, always the creative genius, limited his designs to simply "getting really drunk." Ben wanted to play our tried-and-true Mariokart drinking game.

After some errand running and a pancake dinner courtesy of the Ultimate Frisbee team, we tore down the fort. Jonas and his date (who I've been ironically and, I'm sure, hilariously referring to as whats-her-face) had long since vacated my roomate's monument to forced originality and parts of the fort had injured Rock Show Girl aleady.

It was, however cool, inconvenient for the four of us who wished to play Mariokart. So it had to go.

Perhaps due to the hype we've piled on this event all week, the latest Mariokart drinking game fell far short of my expectations. Other people showed up, shifting the focus of the game with their temperance and foiling our attempt at a quick and guiltness general inebriation.

I slinked away at some point to watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force episodes in the other room with Jubb and Sockless Pete. I'd had half a liter of vodka and delicious Kool-Aid, and I had a beer with Jubb while watching my successfully-downloaded cartoons.

Eventually (less than a half hour later, by my count) everyone in the other room got sick of 8-player Mariokart and decided to go to Frisbee Matt's house for a party. I tagged along, one of several non-frisbee leeches, and found myself at a decent and well-appointed party.

Frisbee Matt and The Insurrectionist (to dig up a very old moniker) had spent, by their estimate, over $70 on alcoholic beverages. They even had a few bottles of German wine, a few glasses of which were enough to fill me with nostalgia and a general goodwill towards even the most annoying of men. Give or take.

Wine drunk, for the uninitiated, is a holy happy sort of drunk. There were also crackers, and hummus.

The party was fun, partially because I knew I wouldn't be cleaning up after it the next day.

But mostly because of the people: frisbee people seem to be naturally friendly, and I already knew most of the other guests.

I talked romance with Jinx and The Politician and proposed a sham marriage to one of the freshman girls (who, come to think of it, I kissed on the cheek as I left: evidence enough for some that I was indisputably drunk).

I talked of nothing at all with other freshmen and with the rare Lawrentians intimate enough to know all the inside jokes from last year. Many of which came up, to my chagrin.

Just when I was starting to tire of humanity, Jubb proposed walking back home. I was a bit tired, and the promise of a clove cigarette on the way certainly didn't hurt matters.

Also, I was growing sick and tired of most of the other guests, in my typically cynical way, and didn't wish to alienate them while in some altered state. Still, I submit that I wasn't, and am not, drunk.

I've always classified myself as a "declaritive drunk," one full of wisdom that he or she thinks interesting, who, when drinking, falls into the trap of spouting off every clever observation that comes into his head. Didn't fall into that trap, at least not all the way; a victory.

Someone finally supported my argument for International Klein Blue, by the way.

All in all, an interesting albeit imperfect night. I'd take a week full of them, though.