Q&A — Religious Student Explains One of Life’s Mysteries: Going Out Sober

6 Nov

As a fundamentalist Christian, every time I go out, I have to feign interest as y’all slur together pathetic attempts at almost-sentences in an effort to conduct “small talk.”

Well, I quit.

I’m tired of people interrogating my choice to be ‘fucked up’ on moral pretention (instead of $3 bottles of wine) every #ThirstyThursday. But before I resign my Saturday nights to the infinite abyss of study-induced self-loathing and unfulfilled pornographic fantasies that is University Library, I’ve chosen to answer your queries once and for all. Hopefully you’re ‘turnt down’ enough to comprehend them. (Though based on my knowledge of this fine publication’s readership, I highly doubt it. #shWastyWednesdays amiright?)

But, like, what the fuck, man? Why don’t you drink?

I have high cholesterol or something. Also, Mother has a vested interest in me attending morning class, and I wouldn’t want to lie to her when she calls me later.

Besides, not all of us are gifted with the ability to complete a problem set while taking ‘swigs from the handle,’ as the youths say.

So if you don’t drink, why are you even here?

As a Mormon, I try not to participate in the moral hazard that is Jungle Juice, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to have a fun and stimulating night (of conversation). I, like each and every one of you heathens, would like to spend some time rejoicing with friends, meeting new people and perhaps even bringing one to two members of the opposite gender home and engaging in steps up to, but not including, coitus. (Gotta leave room for Jesus.)

In fact, I dare to say that I go hard. Like hard apple cider hard. Like post-Cialis hard. And by that I mean I try not to stay out longer than four hours, or I consult a doctor.

Okay. You caught me. I don’t leave the res college except for class. (One time I met someone who lived in Bobb! That’s worth like at least six Slivka friends worth of fun nights, right?) Nevertheless, I’m no stranger to a good time. One time I even tried the alcohols. Craziest Passover I’ve ever had… and I’m not even Jewish.

Jokes aside, the Torah is a great piece of literature. G-d did some solid character development in Leviticus. In Ch. 7-10, I feel like Aaron really grows as a person. Honestly, I wish I had a discussion section to talk it out. Can we make #FridayNightTorahNight happen? But I digress.

Ohhhh, so this is like religious thing?

As a Buddhist, I haven’t read the bible, but my understanding is that Jesus had a 1.0 Blood Alcohol Content. Based on some precise calculations I did during my Essential NUs, that would leave him really fucking drunk. No wonder he had to be resurrected. That cat went hard. Like attending a Zumba class hard. (I see you, Maddy ;))

Regardless, if Jesus drinks wine, then I sure as hell can. Except I have no interest in stumbling awkwardly around a room trying to find a warm body, not consciousness enough to know whether she is actually a she.

Do you even lift?

No.

But my prayers lift up to heaven’s pearly gates, where Ahura Mazda, Zoroastrian G-d and owner of 29 car dealerships in the Chicagoland area, listens to them thoughtfully.

If you don’t drink, what do you do on Friday nights? 

Group Torah reading. This was established above. Skim better, fuckers. (OMGZ #FridayNightTorahNight is trending on Twitter, he writes hopefully…)

What about Saturdays?

As a Scientologist, I spend them alone. Why are you questioning me the one time I go out? No one understands me.

How do you get the females?

I have some substantive advice for you sober guys out there who are looking to get wasted (on the love of a woman). You need the following—

1. Mad skill.

2. A winning personality.

3. The ability to go five minutes without crying about artificial curve in Intro to IR.

You got this. I believe in you. Go hard. Like Orgo-Chem midterm hard.

Are you ever gonna drink?

I actually have a drink scheduled soon. In two years, I’ll turn 21 and I plan to celebrate with Bailey’s (I’m told it tastes like chocolate milk, and I ❤ ❤ ❤ chocolate milk)!

-Frank, the Guardian of Pain

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