One of the things that I miss most about being in college (other than sleeping until the crack of dusk and swapping body fluids with complete strangers) is drinking games. I love drinking games; love everything about them. They’re fun, they get you drunk, and they slap a smiley-face on what is essentially an extremely stupid endeavor. “What’s that? You want to binge on a toxic substance that will damage our livers, impair our judgement, and greatly increase the odds of developing a long term, debilitating chemical dependency? Count me in! Hey! We can make a game out of it!” I find this very amusing. I’m not sure why, but something about extreme idiocy appeals to me. I love the idea that our species is capable of exploring the stars, unraveling the inner workings of the atom, and decoding the genetic code that defines us all, yet we still have to go out of our way to tell the best and brightest of each generation that drinking whiskey until you vomit blood is a bad idea. Continue reading