Tuesday, February 27, 2007


This story needs to be told. In public, on the internet, where everyone can see it, because that's the best way to tell stories. Everyone says so.

Anyway, I alluded to this in my last post (which doesn't matter, because this blog continues to have a readership of 1 -- zero if you don't count readers whose names rhyme with "couth killer") (damn, I just came up with that, but that's a badass phrase to rhyme with your name...I wish "fan batherton" had the same panache), but it deserves its own.

*clears throat*

So some friends and I were at the apartment where some of them live, drinking and playing Cranium. "Game Night," in all its unoffensive glory. One of my friends who lives in the apartment we were occupying had a visitor -- an unspecified (to me) relative from Argentina. A 17 year old girl. I shall leave her name out of this post because a large portion of my audience is Argentinian, and I wouldn't want to be the cause of any embarrassment.

Anyway, this girl was drinking with us, since in normal countries you can drink openly at that age, and she was being quiet and demure during the game. Asking questions about English idioms, and such, since Cranium requires knowledge of what, for instance, the phrase "on thin ice" means. Everything was going swimmingly until a bunch of our other friends showed up. The group immediately outgrew the game being played, and we started just drinking and talking to one another. Also perfectly fine. Until.

Until I am minding my own business, drinking a beer and vaguely paying attention to a game of Kings that is being swiftly abandoned because people have had enough to drink that they don't care anymore. Suddenly, I turn around to find the Argentinian relative THISCLOSE to my face, thrusting a new beer at me. My thoughts, verbatim: "Whaa-?"

"DRINK THIS NOW," she yells at me. Okay, I think. Fine. I smile and say, "What are you going to drink?" She points at another drink. Fine. I chug what she's given me, only to see her hand what she pointed to to another guy. She's cheating.

I point out, grinning, that she's cheating, because I'm drunk and at this point having fun with the whole encounter. She gets back in my face (LIKERIGHTHEREINMYFACE), with a new beer, yelling the same thing at me. Fine. I drink the beer and the same thing happens. She's SO cheating. She is TAKING ADVANTAGE OF ME.

I point this out more strongly this time, mostly out of bewilderment at why this girl has suddenly decided this is a fun activity. Someone tells me I'm being drunk under the table by a seventeen year old girl. I state firmly that that is not at all what is going on. The girl shoves ANOTHER beer at me and says -- swear to God -- "DRINK THIS OR YOU'RE A FUCKING GIRL." I have to admit that this would be sort of hot in any situation other than this. Namely, a situation in which the girl in question is not A) underage and B) related to one of my best friends. And C) Argentinian, because I hate South Americans. Okay, no I don't. Okay, just Bolivians. The fuckers.

Anyway, my brain decides that I will keep drinking what is put in front of me, because why not. So I drink at least one more beer and a full glass of wine. It should be relatively clear by this point why I don't know the exact figure. I'm hammered harder than a nail at a ballpeen convention. I decide to lie down on the floor, because, again, why not. It seems comfortable.

At this point, I think the worst is over, though I still have no idea why this demure girl suddenly started getting all up in my bizzzz. Suddenly, the seventeen-year-old Argentinian girl FALLS ON TOP OF ME and stretches herself across my back. Alarms go off in my head as she starts SNAPPING PHOTOS OF US. "Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa," my brain says to any other brains who may be listening telepathically. "Look at my hands they're over here over here over here over here I am not encouraging this." But I'm too hammered to really do anything about it. Until, that is, she murmurs, "My stomach feels funny." I rush her to the stead of her relative/my friend in the bathroom, where she starts to do what I would have expected her to do had she ACTUALLY consumed all the alcohol she claimed she would. She must have actually consumed some of it. I have no idea.

That's the last thing I remember. I woke up on the couch I initially laid next to late the next morning. Apparently I was found passed out in the other bathroom, though I have no idea why. I relate this story to you because I think people tend to be drastically and tragically unprepared for the possibility of being inexplicably taken advantage of by underage foreigners. Consider this tale my warning to you. Just say no.

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