First of all I apologize for the brief hiatus, I know some of y’all have been fiending for new posts. In the meantime I’ve gotten some people to write their stories up, so you can count on an increase in post frequency and quality in the near future. Without further adieu, a gem from a friend on my floor:
The following story includes many problems that occurred last Saturday night. So a few of my friends received a flyer for something called the “Big Red Bar mitzvah” that was happening at school and was free to all students. One of my friends is Jewish and loved going to bar mitzvahs so decided that we should go. We all thought it would be pretty hilarious to go so naturally we pregamed before then hit up the bar mitzvah. Problem #1: the pregame. Two of my friends were in my room and we were pregaming while listening to bomb music (the usual) when a girl across the hall called me over to pregame with her. I was feeling good so I figured why not; a few more shots can’t hurt. Then, someone a floor below me came up to my room and wanted to pregame with us too. I felt bad that she was taking shots by herself so I took more with her. At this point I had probably taken a total of about 10 shots, way too much (I’m literally a girl). So we’re all taking pictures and decide to walk down to the engineering building where the bar mitzvah was. We end up entering the party on the completely wrong side of the building and stumble down the stairs to see a group of people dancing to Wannabe by Spice Girls, all of them completely sober. So we casually walk to the dance floor and start dancing. Problem #2: Dancing. Having consumed more than my standing serving of alcohol, I was a little unstable on the dance floor. I hit the deck a few times so my friend took me over to sit down in a chair to try and control me. I’m sitting in the chair, and boom… I hit the floor. Everyone looks at me so I throw up a peace sign to the crowd and play it off like I wanted to sit there. Then my other friend calls the friend watching me over to the dance floor to introduce her to some people for literally 2 minutes. Problem #3: leaving me alone…even if it is for 90 seconds. Well my friend comes back to get me and what does she see, but me with puke on my shirt still just chillin’ on the floor. Problem #4: the rabbi. Next thing we know, the rabbi has come over to see all the commotion I’ve caused. She looks at me, laying on the floor looking like a nut job and asks my friends if they know me. Being good people they say yes and then the rabbi proceeds to say “you need to get her out of here.” They ask if they should help clean up and she says “no, just get her out.” Basically, being kicked out of my very first and probably last bar mitzvah by the rabbi probably wasn’t much fun at the time, but it makes for an instant classic.