Timeline of a Drunkass

My mom was going through photos of me on Facebook recently and asked me a very simple question which sparked some thought.

"Are you drunk or drinking in every one of these?"

I pondered an instant and replied, "Um, yeah, probably. I might be high in a few."

She failed to see the humor in this and rolled her eyes, but said nothing and went on chain-smoking and playing around on Facebook.

I didn't give it much thought at the time, but I had before and I have since. I looked through the photos of myself several times and, indeed, she was correct in detecting a high percentage of alcohol-related shots, which was not shocking. Indeed the majority of moments over the last several years I'd deem photo-worthy have revolved around sporting events, birthdays, parties, and other pro-drinking occasions.

Anyone glancing through would likely assume I spend the vast majority of my time under the influence. Now, this certainly isn't entirely true, but I'm not going to sit here and categorically deny it either. In any case, rather than shy away from the fact or accept being saddled with any negative connotations, I've decided to put together a little timeline of some of my greatest/drunkest photos from throughout the years.

2004

Event: General tomfoolery

Drink of choice: Jim Beam

Summary: In an act of youthful, drunken, carefree petty crime, James, Nate, Amanda, and I attempted to get this microwave to hang in the U of M's "shoe tree," where students and alumni for years have thrown their shoes in homage to the University and their time spent there. Not content to settle for the norm, we took this broken microwave and heaved it into the tree. It took multiple attempts--I had to hike down a bigass hill and retrieve that wretched appliance twice--but we finally got it in there and it hung for some time before it fell or was cut down. Ah, to be a freshman.

2005

Event: Night of the week in the dorms.

Drink of choice: 151 and Sprite.

Summary: Not sure what all there is to say about this one. It was first semester, sophomore year at the University of Minnesota, and in those days it seems we all drank all the time. This photo was taken just around the time I was blacking out, and the next morning I woke up fully clothed with a bar of soap in my pocket.

2006

Event: Brandon's birthday weekend.

Drinks of choice: Grain Belt Premium. More shots than could possibly have been necessary.

Summary: It was a hot night in July, but for whatever reason David and I felt the need to be stylin' in our badass track jackets. I can't remember what we were laughing at, but I have a feeling it must have been damn funny.

2007

Event: Case Race

Drink of choice: 20 Michelob Golden Lights

Summary: It was Easter weekend, and with nobody around in our apartment complex but the four of us guys, Tyler, Pete, Jeremy, and I decided to attempt the Case Race, with hilarious and disastrous results. Tyler ended up with puke on his back. Jeremy and Pete, I heard, broke down and sobbed drunkenly over something. And, thanks to an anonymous 5th party with a cruel sense of humor and unabated access to my cell phone, there may still be people I don't talk to very often who think I came out of the closet that night. (Asshole)

Final Score: Tyler 24. Jeff 20. Pete 19. Jeremy 16.

2008

Event: Phil's wedding.

Drink of choice: Obviously, Captain Morgan.

Summary: Out of necessity, and a sense of hilariousness, Tyson and I used the coffee pot in our hotel room to mix one helluva rum and coke. An unusual conveyance, perhaps, but nonetheless effective.

2009

Event: Random night at the bars.

Drinks of choice: Long Islands, Whiskey Sours, Whiskey Cokes, cheap beer.

Summary: In possibly the greatest photo ever, I show my undying affection for Rizzle as Meg looks on in astonishment.

2010

Event: New Year's 2010

Drinks of choice: Keg beer, champagne, fruity/delicious/lethal wop, Jello shots

Summary: In my very first drunk-pic of 2010, Hoberg and I are apparently looking to throw down in brohood fisticuffs, possibly over a beer pong dispute. I have absolutely no recollection of this photograph having been taken, so your guess as to the truth behind it is as good as mine.

Well, there you have it. Seven years, seven photos, and seven stories of youthful exuberance and quasi-alcoholism. I don't know about you, but a trip like this down memory lane sure does warm my heart. If you've learned nothing else, hear this: Alcohol is an important vehicle through which we celebrate our triumphs, drown our failures, and generally amplify the enjoyment of our lives. And now, thanks to Facebook, we get to share that with everyone. If I'm lucky, someday my grandchildren will ask, "Grandpa, were you and your friends drunk in all those pictures?" And I can answer, "Um, well, we may have been high in some of them."


Jeff N.

My Drinking Icons--Rizzle

When I met "Rizzle," I was a fresh-faced first year at the University of Minnesota. Seeking a connection for purchasing alcohol, I wandered through my dormitory hallways looking to meet anyone with connections to a 21-year-old. James, or Rizzle as he has always been known to me, was introduced to me by a good friend and housemate in Centennial Hall. He is a simple man; a great man. Simply put, Rizzle can consume more alcohol in a night of drinking, without dying, than any man I've ever met.

Our first encounters were short and sweet. I'd give him the money, he'd bring me back the paint-thinner-esque 1.75s of vodka. Oh, how I miss the simplicity of those days. "What, man, you say it's Thursday? Tell Rizzle to get me some Karkov," and we'd drink it all, only to do it again the next two days.

After our first few meetings, Rizzle warmed up to me somewhat and started inviting me out to parties, over to his dorm to drink, and essentially to any alcohol-related function that he would be attending. It did not take me long to discover that, for Rizzle, alcohol is king. I admired that, and I still do.

Though the legend began assembling in those first few weeks and months, it was not until we had left the dorms and Rizzle had moved into a house with his good friends that it began to truly solidify for me. Hosting innumerable weekend keggers, tailgating events for Gopher football and Twins baseball, and always driving the action towards a different party when he wasn't hosting, Rizzle became a beacon of college drunkenness to which we all aspire.

With his tradmark phrase, "It's whatever," and his desire to be the best at what he does, Rizzle is more a part of many of our U of M experiences than are the classes, the dorms, or the events.

I remember one particularly heroic phone call I received from Rizzle.

"Jeff, what's going on tonight?"
"I don't know Rizzle, I'm actually not drinking tonight I'm back at home."
"I see. Do you know what anybody else is doing?"
"Not really man, sorry."
"Hmm, see, the thing is, I gotta find something, because at this point I'm dangerously close to not drinking on a Friday for the first time in 4 years."
(In awe) "Well, damn, Rizzle. I hope you can find some way to keep that intact."
"Yeah, man. Hopefully something'll be goin' down."

Another time, we were playing circle of death at my apartment on campus with a few assorted friends. Rizzle, characteristically, was drinking a mixed drink of approximately 75% vodka, 25% juice while the rest of the players at the table sported various cans and bottles of beer. True to his legend, Rizzle consumed every drink the game dealt him with gusto, polishing off several drinks in rapid succession. After a game that saw Rizzle drinking 2-3 times as many drinks as the next player had beers, Rizzle stood up and proclaimed he needed to visit a friend in the area having a party. An hour and a half, and who knows how many drinks later, he came back to my place where the party was still going on. He proceeded to grab the half-or-so full 1.75 of vodka and take a pull to get himself "back in the mix."

Needless to say, that night was nothing short of a bona fide shit show. I woke up at 5am, Rizzle shaking me awake with his left hand while holding his junk in his right. He was completely naked and shivering. My best friend Brandon had, in a drunken stupor, turned my thermostat down to 45 degrees, which he thought was hilarious.

"J-J-J-Jeff.... D-Do you h-have any c-clothes I c-can b-borrow."

I got up and fetched him some pants and a shirt, "Rizzle, what happened?"

There was no response as Rizzle threw on the clothes, grabbed a towel as a blanket and passed out once again on the floor. He was gone before I woke up, but I found his clothes in the corner of the living room in a sopping pile. I confronted him a few weeks later, knowing what had happened.

"Rizzle, I uh, I found your clothes and I washed them. They were all wet, uh, did you spill a drink on yourself or something?"

Rizzle, making direct eye contact and without a hint of shame or embarrassment responded simply, "Nope. Pissed m'self."

That is the kind of honesty that exemplifies Rizzle. He is a man that, as I said earlier, can drink as much liquor in a single night without dying as any man I've ever met. He doesn't throw up, he doesn't break things, and on occasion should he happen to make a drunken mistake, he owns up immediately and without shame. These stories, and so many like them (you probably have one or two of your own if you know him), tell a tale of a man more like a god. So raise a glass, a shot, a can, or a bottle to Rizzle--the greatest drinker of us all.