Somewhat akin to PennPorn, Derek Walters’s “Drunk History Vol. 2″ stars Jack Black as Penn’s beloved Ben Franklin and Dale from Greek as his son, William. Yeah, we just can’t get enough of B-Frank. Plus, this is totally the kind of conversation we would have had with that drunk kid in the Quad who vomited all over our hall freshman year.
Don’t you wish that, while intoxicated, a little sober angel would sit on your shoulder and prevent you from drunk-dialing? Seeing as your friends tend to be just as wasted as you are, it’s about time there was another way to thwart any idiotic ideas that seem perfectly reasonable after five tequila shots.
Luckily, iPhone has come to the rescue with two new applications, “Don’t Dial” and “The Bad Decision Blocker.” Users select contacts they wish to block and designate a specific amount of time during which they won’t be able to call or text said numbers. This will be specifically useful during the four drunken days of Fling.
By blocking a number, the contact’s info is temporarily rendered unavailable. So even if you change your mind and decide that you really do need to remind your ex what he’s missing (though your wasted state will probably re-affirm just what he/she isn’t missing), your iPhone will stand strong.
The one fluke is that the applications don’t prevent users from manually dialing blocked numbers, so if you have a superhuman memory and can recall a phone number even after the aforementioned tequila shots, you can still manage to humiliate yourself.
However, seeing as this kind of stalker-esque number memorization is quite rare, the applications will most likely be a huge hit with partiers who want to keep their dignity the next morning. We just want to know when BlackBerry will come out with its own version of the Bad Decision Blocker.
$3.50 x 115....Someone get my calculator!
Each May, right after the end of finals, hoards of Penn students gallop south to Baltimore, Maryland for the Preakness Stakes.
The second leg in the Triple Crown Series, this race attracts not only the Kentucky Derby Winner but also thousands of college students looking to get so drunk they forget how little they care about horse racing or big hats.
But according to Maryland Jockey Club president and CEO Tom Chuckas, this tradition has seen its last year.
Today, Chuckas announced a ban on fun carry-in drinks for 2009. This May 16th, beer will be sold for $3.50 and coolers will be strictly prohibited. Well, at least musical entertainment will be provided (ZZ Top and Buckcherry).
“It’s time for our public infield customers to enjoy a new way to party,” says Chuckas.
“Wow, maybe he’s right,” says not one single college student.
Exhibit A: Framents of Ceiling Tiles, Beans, Regret.
As I hunkered down to start writing a response paper with a 6 AM deadline (ca. 12:53 AM), the four cups of black coffee I chugged with dinner caught up to me. Happy to have chosen the Harrison computer lab for its vicinity to both my house and a bathroom, I made my way down the hall, stopping briefly to glare at the excessively chatty clique seated near me (Friendship is for Rosengarten, kids.) Upon opening the restroom door, I was greeted by the following scene (see Exhibits A & B).
I like to pretend I’m cool by telling people that I’m over Facebook. And, to a certain extent, I am. I don’t really write on people’s walls (at least not as compulsively as I used to…oh, freshman year), and it takes a herculean effort for me to actually post pictures. But last night, I was happier than I’ve ever been that Facebook is a part of my life. The reason? Drunk Facebook messaging.
At 1:16 AM, I received the following message from a guy (let’s call him Random Guy) whom I met briefly at Kaplan SAT teacher training three years ago, and haven’t spoken to since:
“You’re cute. I wish I had asked you out during that Kaplan training many years ago.
P.S. Have you ever been to Urbino?”
There are several reasons–-aside from the massive ego boost–-why this is the most amazing thing that has ever happened. First of all, why on earth would Random Guy ask if I’ve been to Urbino? (Which I had to Wiki; apparently, it’s a small town in Italy. Who knew?) Did he maybe think he saw me there? Do I seem like the sort of person who haunts walled Italian cities? Secondly, why was Random Guy drunk on a Wednesday night? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but still, it’s very curious. And since the last time I thought about Random Guy was when I accepted his friend request at the beginning of 2006, how did he wind up thinking about me all the way at the end of 2008? I have so many questions, I’m actually considering responding.
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I have never been so insulted in all my life. OK fine, so maybe I’m overreacting, but gmail and I are officially in a fight. A few weeks ago, when I read about mail goggles, the feature that makes you solve basic math problems before sending an email late at night on weekends, I chuckled at the concept but decided not to enable the feature (texts are more my forte). And yet, somehow, on a night when I forced myself to stay in and study for my massive midterm instead of going out, gmail prevented me from sending an email. To myself. Phew, that was a close call. Thanks, assholes! I couldn’t believe the sheer obnoxiousness of making my overstressed, overtired, sick-of-staring-at-a-computer-screen brain solve five math problems, and it didn’t help that there was a little clock counting down to the moment I would be stripped of my emailing privileges. With 30 seconds to go, I finally got to work.
The embarrassing part of this story is that I was completely sober, and yet I still failed to solve a basic arithmetic problem. 42-23 is in no way shape or form 17. It’s just not. (I so did not deserve that math award I won in high school.) And yet this is the spazzed-out answer I gave gmail, who proceeded to tell me to drink some water and go to bed. The nerve. No, gmail, I think it’s time for YOU to drink some water and go to bed. And so’s your face. And also, suck it.
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For those of you who don’t spend 100% of your internet time on facebook and reading celebrity gossip, political and shopping blogs like me (and I’m kickass), I would like to inform you that the recent Ivy-Graduates-in-San-Fransisco-Constituency, also known as “Team Google” have created a new feature to prevent you from writing drunk emails.
Mail Goggles, as they are called, note a frequency in typos and interrupt your rant to an ex with math equations. If you are competent enough to solve said problems, you may continue your well-wishing of the syph and herpes.
Now, this idea could work if your emails looks like this: djklfasdlkfjaklghah. While this may be beneficial to some, I have to ask: how many of you actually drunk email?
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