You’re depressed as shit. Not only did you get caught playing the “push the campus rape button and run game,” but even worse you have to go home for like five days for Thanksgiving. Last time you were home your parents threatened to stop paying tuition if you didn’t bring your grades up. You tried to explain to them that all you fucking need to graduate is a 2.0 and you’re at like a 2.13, so they should shut the fuck up. After they failed to buy your logic, you told them that Tom Petty quote about blowing off studying and working on papers to go get fucked up, but that just made matters worse. As you are #85 plowing down the road trying to make good time, you get a text. It’s your bro from high school who had the “cool” parents who let you get fucked up in their basement. Sure some kid had to go to the hospital Junior year, but his parents were totally pros about it and just dropped him at the curb so they wouldn’t get arrested. Thank God – that bro-hater almost ruined Senior year. Anyways, as you are dreading seeing your parents and hearing their same old tired speech of “Blah Blah responsibility blah blah why don’t you ever call blah blah why didn’t you come to your grandmother’s funeral blah blah blah,” you read the text – “5 kegs my house 2nite.” Suddenly, this slow painful death march aka family time just got interesting. It’s the night before Thanksgiving, the greatest drinking day of the year. It’s time to get fucked up.
Throughout my drinking career, I’m proud to say there have been many a morning where I have woken up covered in my own vomit and/or piss. I’ve also enjoyed some lengthy stretches of blackouts that might medically qualify me for being in coma, but out of the top five nights of drunkenness, at least two occurred on Blackout Wednesday. If you ever think you’ve hit absolutely rock bottom in the eyes of your parents you might want to reconsider. Thanksgiving my Junior year of College was a special one. At dinner, my parents got to tell the lovely tale of the night before when they witnessed me walk into their bedroom naked and #36 pee on the floor. This followed the previous year’s impressive explosive vomiting display all over my Grandmother’s retirement home parking lot as old people judged me from their high horses aka wheelchairs. Fucking critical bitches. Since I’m a bro and by definition smart as shit I just passed that off as “Sleepwalking” and “Food Poisoning.” I think they bought it. Fucking idiots.
Anyways, the point is that bros fucking love the night before Thanksgiving. Most people will be quick to tell you it is the second biggest drinking day of they year, but for bros, it has to be number one. New Years is basically just a post-High School prom where everyone and their fucking mother has to go out and spend a shit load of money on something you could do any other night of the year – get fucked and get laid. Here are a couple things that make the night before Thanksgiving so amazing.
Having the Best Story – Bros love being the best. Especially amongst their fellow bros. Every bro knows he goes to the biggest party school, has the craziest fraternity or group of bros at College, and has banged the hottest slam pieces. The only hard part is convincing your bros at home. Any bro reunion is immediately filled with, “Oh you don’t know my bro Thompson! He’s fucking crazy!” and “You have got to check out this hot slam piece I’m banging” followed by everyone huddling around an iPhone. Having the best story from the semester is clutch, because if it is good enough, it gives you legit bro cred. Your bros will also enjoy said cred, since they will be able to tell everyone back at school how crazy their bros back home are.
Seeing How Fat People Have Gotten – Since everyone from High School is back in town, there usually is going to be some reunion of sorts. I always love seeing all the middle linebackers in High School who are now 280 with like two kids. What a fucking fat ass. What’s even better is seeing how fat all the girls that used to be hot as shit have gotten. Not only are they now desperate as shit because the only thing they had going for them is gone, but it gives you a great opportunity for a new #28 nickname. Sure she might have been known as “Aqua Slut” back in High School when she was a swimmer, but that was before she had the audacity to put on weight - now she’s “Swamp Thing.” As she walks by, you and your bros can yell out, “Go back to the Swamp!” or “Sorry, no fish heads for you to eat here, Swampy!” While some bro-haters might consider this “cruel,” you’re actually doing her a favor. Maybe this is the boost she needs to get back on that “anhorexia diet” so that she can be popular again.
So, tomorrow night, don’t go out with the mindset of it being “just another night.” Remember that without the Indians there would be no night before Thanksgiving. Honor them tomorrow by doing what they love to do more than anything in the entire world: Get fucking hammered.