Breaking Up And Binge-Drinking: More Games For Your Solo Cup

(Yes, my relationship is over but my love affair with alcohol will never die. Remember: people come and go but liver damage is forever.)

This September, Alessandro and I celebrated our four-year anniversary. We met on campus in my sophomore year of college and moved in together after a little over a year as we continued our education together. Things were good. It was easy. Considering my love of dysfunction, I should’ve realized something wasn’t quite right.

Make no mistake, in this story I am the bad guy. We met just as I ended my first relationship and I hopped into this one without really giving myself time to think or grieve or remember to go to class. Sure, I loved him, but not enough to imagine a future together or to not feel the need to talk to other guys. (I KNOW I’M THE  WORST, SHUT UP ABOUT IT.) Anyways, recently we started to see we didn’t have enough money to keep living in our apartment together so we both moved back in with our parents and decided to call it quits.

It’s weird being alone after 7 years of boyfriends. I still have my friends but sometimes you just wanna tell someone that you found a really long nose hair or saw a bumper sticker that said “I brake for wet leaves”, and you go to pick up your phone to send the news but you realize nobody except your significant other would even care, and suddenly you’re like,

“Shit… I really am alone.”

Then you start to ask yourself what you used to do before you had someone to chill with 24/7 and your mind becomes that scene from SpongeBob Squarepants where he’s trying to remember his name.

All you know is fine dining and breathing. (And in my case, drinking.)

With that in mind, I’ve developed a few more drinking games you can play by yourself because who’s about to stop you? Certainly not your significant other because you’re alone and no one loves you.

Drinking Games to Play Alone:

1. Download Tinder. Take a drink every time you swipe right, chug if it’s a match.
2. Go through your phone, Facebook, picture library, etc. and drink whenever you delete a picture of your ex. (Because that’s how you win. At drinking AND at life.)
3. Make a list of all your past lovers/significant others/crushes and text ALL OF THEM. Drink if they text you back. Chug if they hit you up for a booty call.
4. This one’s obvious and possibly overused but open Chat Roulette, Omegle, whatever else they have now and shuffle through the people. Drink whenever you see a penis.
5. Solo Beer Pong: All you need for this is a table, a wall, cups, and ping pong balls. Put the table against the wall and arrange cups in front of you the way you normally would in beer pong but only your side. Use the table and the wall to bounce the balls into your own cups. Drink when you make the shot, etc. (normal rules apply).
6. Turn on one of your favorite (or least favorite) movies or tv shows. Make your own drinking game!! (It’s fun.) For example, I used to make drinking games for the Presidential debates but I was too good at them and I almost got alcohol poisoning so I stopped. (I’m actually thinking about making a whole series of drinking games for movies and tv shows to put on this blog so if you have any requests, leave them in the comments below.)
7. Put your playlist on shuffle. Try for mostly love songs. Drink every time you cry. (This also works for sad movies and looking through the aforementioned pictures of your ex as well.)

Well, that’s all I have for now. If you want more, refer to my last post about drinking games to play alone. It’s a decent read. If you have any ideas you’d like to share, feel free to leave them in the comments below. And remember: you’re never alone when there’s booze and twitter.

Sex And Nonsense: Gina And I Discuss The Issues

(DISCLAIMER: this is not safe for work, or “NSFW” if you prefer. We talk about sex and stuff, so you probably shouldn’t be reading this at all. Perverts. JK, kiddos. Enjoy…)

Okay, so me and Gina from Endearingly Wacko have come together in comedic awesomeness to give you all what you want: sex.

(Not sex WITH us, though. Just about us. In case you were confused.)

We basically decided to join forces in the battle against non-laughingness in a series I like to call “Alanna And Gina On The Issues”. Like Batman and Robin. But for comedy blogs.

The Comedic Duo.

These are a few questions we came up with (mostly her) that we’re answering here. The answers to the other questions are on Gina’s blog so you’ll have to go there to find out the rest.

Questions:
1. Name one of the funniest or weirdest places you’ve ever had sex.
2. How did you learn about sex and how old were you?
3. Did you ever accidentally see your parents having sex?
4. Describe something embarrassing that you’ve done.

(They’re going to be out of order so just deal with that.)

2. How did you learn about sex and how old were you?

Gina: I was five years old. I learned about the facts of life from my next door neighbor, Penny, who was also five years old. Penny’s mother seemed to have a lot of drama in her life and because we lived in a townhouse with paper-thin walls, my Mom was able to find out all the scoop on this lady by putting a glass up to the wall and listening. As an aside, there was a hilarious moment when my sister was a toddler and the neighbor lady was standing inside the front hallway talking to my Mom. According to my Mom, she saw my little sister get a plastic cup and hold it up to her ear against the wall, mimicking the behavior she had seen. My Mom said she was cringing inside in case the neighbor lady was able to figure out that she was being spied upon. Anyway, Penny was not supervised very well. She liked to dive in the dumpster and rummage around for God knows what. Treasure of some kind I suppose. I may have just been a little kid, but even I was like, “There’s no way I’m getting into a giant container filled with trash”.

*NOT ACTUAL DUMPSTER FROM STORY* (But close.)

So one time Penny was dumpster diving and I was standing next to the dumpster and she told me, “My Mom and her boyfriend are having sex.” I was like, “What’s that?”. And then she very graphically explained how part A was inserted into slot B. It rocked my little world. I mean, it was just so bizarre. Maybe everyone feels the same way the first time you hear about the actual mechanics involved. It’s funny to me that something that should be natural and beautiful was introduced to me next to a dumpster, with it’s stench and flies. Although maybe that’s a more telling metaphor for sex, now that I think about it.

Alanna: I can’t remember when I learned about sex because my parents were too cool to give me “the talk” and my Catholic school didn’t have health class. I just sort of always knew it existed (especially when I saw “Wild Things” at 5 years old). But one time when I was like 12, I was asking my friend about the lyrics of “What’s Your Fantasy?” by Ludacris and my friend mentioned penetration. I turned around and was like, “¿Que?”

She was all, “Wait a second… what do you think sex is?”

“Obviously, it’s like when you rub your Barbie and Ken together at their smooth parts.” She laughed for about ten million years and then described to me the actual process of “getting jiggy with it” (na na na na na naa). I was extremely confused and we had to discuss it for quite a while because I absolutely could not wrap my mind around the concept. (In fact, I’m still a little fuzzy on the details.)

3. Did you ever accidentally see your parents having sex?

Gina: Yes. It happened when I was a college student which made it SO much more worse than if it had happened when I was a child. At least if I had been a kid I probably wouldn’t have known what was going on. I was home for three weeks in August 1992. I had a small break from studying in Russia over the summer; I was returning there at the end of August to start the Fall Semester. Those three weeks were just long enough for me to get into a catastrophic car accident that nearly took my life, but I digress. I was up late packing my suitcase for my flight to Moscow the next day. My sister had already left for her first year of college in another city. My parents had gone to bed for the night and I suddenly remembered something that I needed that was in their room. I don’t remember what it was. Their door was closed but not locked so I thought I would quietly sneak in, get what I needed and leave. The light was off in their room but even in the darkness I could tell what was going on once I stepped into the room. My folks were “doing it”. I was horrified and quickly left. I’m surprised I didn’t trip over my own feet in my rush to get out. The next day no one mentioned the awkward incident. But I really wanted to say something like, “Seriously guys? One more day and I would have been gone and you would have been empty nesters. You would have had the whole house to yourself. Couldn’t you have waited one more day? If nothing else, why didn’t you lock the door?” But they didn’t and now I have an uncomfortable image burned into my brain. I guess I shouldn’t pass judgement since at some time (God forbid) we might get caught in the act by our son. He hasn’t done so yet but he did find a used condom wrapper once and he was like, “Who’s been eating candy in here?” We have a strict “no food upstairs” rule. I think I had to lie and blame myself just to keep him from asking more questions. Parenthood is fun.

Alanna: When I was about 3 years old, I walked into my parents’ bedroom in the middle of the day and saw them having sex even though I had no clue that was what was going on. They were all naked and my mom was just sitting on top (ugh) and they just looked at me for a few seconds in silence and started cracking up laughing. I was like, “WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!?!” all pissed about not being “in” on the joke and then I just left the room.
We never talked about it after that.

To read the answers to the other two questions, click here: http://endearinglywacko.com/the-not-safe-for-work-blog-post

Thanks for reading! And if you want, feel free to provide your own answers in the comments. I always like to hear a good tale of unfortunate sex.

BYE EVERYBODY!! :)

An Interview With Yours Truly (Stuff You Never Needed To Know)

Hey everybody!!!

Go check out my interview with Eric and Denise on Opticynicism!!

It’s awesome and you can find out more about me because we all know you want to…

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UPDATE: December 10th, 2014

I finally made a Facebook for my blog so check it out too! (Love you guys)

The Great Purge: Me, Reagan, And Magic Mushrooms

(DISCLAIMER: there’s a lot of bodily functions in this story so if you’re easily grossed-out or offended by drug-use, then please stop reading right now. This post is not for you.)

This time of year always brings out the nostalgia in me. The good and bad times, the laughs, the sadness, the uncontrollable vomiting, and the realization that I’ve peed myself as an adult way more times than I EVER did as a child. Like, too many times. (I should probably look into that.)

Anyways, I’m not usually one to stop people from doing drugs.

(Depending on what they are. I’m not a monster, people. I’m not all like, “Hey, you should definitely do that heroin! I’m sure that needle is perfectly safe to use. These guys are pro’s!” Or all, “Meth is probably awesome! Look how much money they make on ‘Breaking Bad’! And most of them seem to have all their teeth still.” So settle down.)

But in this case, I’m saying outright: NEVER EVER EVER DO MUSHROOMS. Just don’t. Ignore Nike and their “Just Do It” mentality. Tell your friends to hop off your jock and that they’re idiots because this is one particular hallucinogen that’s simply not worth it.

I know some of you are sitting here thinking, “I was always fine and love mushrooms so FUCK OFF, ALANNA. I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR OPINION.” But to you I say, “I’M NOT GONNA FUCK OFF, I’M GONNA TELL MY STORY AND I DON’T CARE IF YOU DISAGREE. THIS IS MY BLOG. HOW ABOUT YOU FUCK OFF?!”

(No offense. You know I love you guys. But shut up for like 2 seconds and hear me out, K?)

So anyways, I was already drunk on Four Loko’s and awake for almost 24 hours when my friend came over with mushrooms. I wasn’t even trying to do them, but he never let me down before in this vein so after enough, “Just try a little,” I gave in. I’ve done a bunch of acid, I thought. This won’t even be a thing.

“Whatever,” I grabbed the nasty-looking stems and things and shoved them all in my mouth.

This is what they look like. DIRT. And guess what they taste like…
DIRT. And shit.

I usually don’t gag, but I immediately regretted ingesting this particular fungus.

(It’s poison, by the way. In case you didn’t know. These mushrooms are LITERALLY poison.)

So after chasing them down with some Turkey Hill mango juice, I lied down on my couch. Then I started to feel nauseous. Normally, my stomach is hard as Jason Statham and nothing (mostly) makes me sick. After a while, though, I couldn’t deny it. The room looked weird and my mouth felt heavy. (That’s the only way I can explain it. Hallucinogenic-users probably understand.)

“Excuse me, everyone,” I said to Alessandro and my friend, trying to hold my shit together. “I have to go throw up now.”

I glided elegantly to the bathroom and proceeded to barf my brains out. I barely ate anything that day, so this was a super-fun experience. The odd thing though was that I could not stop. My body was like, “WTF DUDE, WHAT DID YOU EAT?!?!” And I could only be like, “My bee. Blaggghhh.”

I literally was throwing up so hard that I peed myself right where I was on the floor in front of the toilet. (But not only once, my friends. Multiple times.) At least I could laugh. I called Alessandro in, “Be careful. Don’t step in the piss. Blaaghhh.” He came in the bathroom and I had to laugh. Laughing made me barf more. Barfing made me piss myself more.

(I was wearing a really nice pair of pants, too. So sad…)

“I’m Lizzing. Blaghhh.”

Once I had someone to talk to, I managed to throw out some jokes in between bouts of vomit and piss. “This is exactly what Reagan was talking about,” I said, spitting out pieces of stupid fucking mushrooms. “This up-is-down, down-is-left America we live in blaaghhh…”

I might be the only person that can say magic mushrooms brought out my true Republican.

There I was, sitting in vomit and piss, spouting Reagan-era ideology, thinking about how in all my 21 years on the planet had culminated in this.

“Alanna, get up and get in the tub,” Alessandro tried to encourage me.

“No. This is what I deserve. I’m just gonna lie here in my own filth.” (But to be totally honest, I couldn’t get up if I tried.) “I should have listened to my parents and Nancy Reagan.”

The jersey is right: “Just Say No.”

“I’ve let my country down.”

After some incredibly in-depth commentary on society and today’s drug culture, Alessandro was able to help me get into the tub. This was my where I was at this moment in time: a drugged-out fool sitting in a bathtub and making a ton of jokes about Reagan that I don’t remember as my boyfriend sat in the corner, cracking the fuck up.

“This is the low-point of my life.”

And it totally was. So after I cleaned myself up and got dressed, I came out to my living room and scolded my friend for disappointing the Reagans and America as a whole. Everybody was laughing but my message was clear: this shit was not the American Dream. This was a bad dream about America. I went out on my balcony and yelled into the sky as I shook my fist, “I WILL AVENGE YOU, REAGAN!!!!”

And spent the rest of the night feeling like absolute shit. Then, the other night, my other friend was like, “It’s a whole different experience when you take enough that you almost like leave your body.”

“Well, last time, everything INSIDE my body decided to ‘leave my body’.”

I’ll never do that shit again. And it’s all thanks to my incredibly horrifying trip and possibly Ronald Reagan speaking to me from the grave.

He gets it. Don’t do drugs, kids. It’s not worth it. (Or just do acid. It’s much better.)

Also, check out my interview later today on Opticynicism. It’ll be pretty dope.