Sometimes, I'm a Tool

Since becoming a teacher, my life quickly became a routine. Not just the workweek, but the weekend as well. Typically, on Fridays I intend to cut loose and be social, but I end up falling asleep by 7 o'clock. Feeling lame the next day, I resolve not to be a lame teacher and instead seek diversion like that of an unemployed student. This was the case more than a month ago. Following a remarkably uneventful Friday, on Saturday, I went to a party with a host of people I love, most of whom were soon-to-graduate college seniors. It started out fairly harmlessly, but then debauchery reared its ugly-yet-seductive head. I resisted at first, using my tried-and-true excuse, "I can't, I'm a teacher!" Eventually, though, and I can't remember exactly how, I became a party to the party.

I blame the Peppermint Schnapps. I had been drinking vodka earlier, but when the party's alcohol selection dwindled, the Schnapps was one of the only remaining options. Most people expressed concern that I would attempt to drink it straight, citing that it tastes just like mouthwash. Personally, I'd contend that mouthwash is preferable to the taste of most alcohol anyway, so I was okay with that. Plus, I was repeatedly complimented on my refreshing breath -- an unattainable perk from consuming beer. Mistakenly, I decided that since it was a lower proof than most forms of liquor, I could drink a lot more and not be effected. I failed to account for the fact that drinking more than half of the bottle, straight mind you, would counteract the somewhat lower alcohol content.

And like that, I became a college student again. Frisky. I was hardly one of the worst offenders, but a participant nonetheless. It felt surreal as it unfolded, such that it was easy to ignore people, friends and strangers, snapping photographs.

Later, I became paranoid of the photos that would surface and be posted on the internet. When some finally appeared, I sighed with relief.



Sure, they're cheesy, but harmless. Our deviant fun consists of RJ letting his hair down and Andrew smiling with food in his mouth.

All was well until this past weekend, Mike posted the scandalous photographs to the web. I moaned in agony.


I look plain stupid, like I'm suffering from alcohol poisoning or something. Why you'd want to kiss/stick your tongue in my ear while I'm in this state, I'll never know.


"Pose for a picture!" Sorry, I'm too busy passing out on Daphne. I look like a creep, a lustful creep no less. It's worth mentioning that Daphne and I bonded that night, but it appears I maybe had other intentions that I don't quite recall. Embarrassing.


This is the photo that inspires nervous laughter on my part. All my life, I've strived to be better than your typical asshole. I think I successfully made it throughout college without appearing to be your standard frat dude. Here, however, I have that patented red cup, held at an elevated level to indicate a self-congratulatory mindset. I have a seductive, skin-showing babe pressing against me, with me in the dominant position. My face reads, "I am excited, yet too cool to look anything more than mildly amused and slightly mean." Actually, I find my own face somewhat attractive in this photo; it's scary to acknowledge that I kind of like the way I look as a douche. This photo demonstrates that as much as I think I'm better than most people, I'm still capable of being an utter tool, too. Ugg, it's gross.

These are hardly the most scandalous of the bunch, but I stop here since, though I am self-depricating, these pictures involve other people and I try to limit my defamation of others. Additionally, even my self-deprication has its limits -- I bet you already think less of me enough for one day.