A Drunk Flanders Story: the best christmas gift you can get

This old classic is one of my favorites.
As Flanders' roommate, I've often witnessed more than my share of drunk Flanders shenanigans, many of which occur after Flanders has called it a night. This one happened after the infamous day of 21-21-21 during short term. That's right, 21 games of 21 cup in 21 hours. We started this venture at around two in the afternoon. By about 6 I had played twelve games of 21 and all of us were ready for a great drunk commons (a common occurrence during short term). Though that meal is hazy at best, I'm pretty confident I should maybe be a little embarrassed about the general sloppiness of it. After dinner I played two more games, painted the Chasement bathroom wall with chunder (i'd been recovering from a nasty illness) and was in bed by 9:30.

But this story's about Flanders. I was sound asleep in my bed when all of a sudden I was awoken by a crash and a thud followed by a string of drunk expletives. I sat straight up in bed and saw my roommate, the Flan-man, butt naked and holding up my dresser that was threatening to crush him. Most of the contents of my dresser were strewn all about the floor and the crashing noise I had heard was my printer, that had been on top of the dresser, had tumbled off, smashed Flanders in the head, and then hit the floor. Flanders seemed to be struggling as hard as he could to tip the dresser back upright while being to drunk to understand what was happening. It was like he had woken up in an awful nightmare where his head hurt for no reason and he was naked, confused, and had something heavy crushing him.

By now I'd been asleep for more than five hours and was sober enough to understand the gravity of the situation. I hopped out of bed, told Flanders to go get some clothes on, took the phone out from under the dresser that was preventing it from being tipped back up, and solved the problem.

The next morning Flanders barely remembered what had happened, merely stating that he had gone to bed and woken up with a headache, holding up my dresser. The more likely explanation is that he was sleepwalking (a common occurrence during short term), tripped, and grabbed my dresser to hold him up. But as with most Drunk Flanders stories nobody can know for sure what may have happened.
If you give Flanders beer he'll give you memories and entertainment. The gift that keeps on giving. I hope Flanders is drunk somewhere and that the people he's with are laughing.
Merry Christmas

Welcome to the Jungle, We've got Fun and Games

For Short Term '08, Flanders enrolled in Math Camp, which may, in fact, have interfered with more prime opportunities to see Flanders drunk.  The benefit of his five-day-a-week-super-serious-let-me-tell-you-gnome-riddles-class, however, was that when the weekend arrived, Flanders was ready to go.  Having missed the entire week of shenanigans, Flanders often felt he needed to make up for a week's worth of alcohol in a single night.  And make up for it he did.  On this particular night, Flanders was in a zone.  As usual, we started the night at Webb basement, with a grill session in the back alley and then moving to the basement to begin the nightly rotation through games of 21.  If Flanders has never told you himself, he is really good at 21.  He can count out the right number of cups to make a triangle faster than any man alive.  And never second guess him, because he is a math major for a reason (likewise, if Flanders is mad at you, never try to trick the other team in to thinking they have the right number of cups for a rack, because no matter how many eyes he has open, Flanders can spot that kind of poor math from across the room and will stop it before you even know what happened).

We decided later that night it was time to move on to the Village to visit the kind people there.  Flanders decided this was an excellent idea and took off running.  A couple of us chased him down to make sure he didn't disappear and eventually found him on the quad yelling for us to catch up.  We had not lost him after all.  We convinced him it was too warm out to run and he agreed, also admitting that he may have been running in varying diagonals.  And that's when it happened.  The hair came a tumblin' down and all hell broke loose.  "What is your favorite guitar solo song?!" he asked.  What other answer could I give than the infamous Welcome to the Jungle?  And there it began.  Right next to the side door entrance to Hedge walking towards the Village.  Flanders began air-guitaring and wailing away at the entire intro to Welcome to the Jungle while his head-banging waved his hair in unnatural ways.  By the time we reached Bardwell, Flanders reached the middle solo of the song, and in all of his excitement, literally flipped backwards on to his back in the soft mud of the field.  I watched in awe for a second to make sure he didn't hurt himself, but was amazed when that guitar solo did not miss a single beat.  Flanders was not going to let a little slip in the mud ruin a great guitar solo.  So there he laid, on his back in the mud, air-guitaring and wailing away with his very best vocal impression, while his hair flopped back and forth and his legs kicked in joy.  Never have I seen a man so entrenched in his air-guitar solo as was a drunk Flanders on Bardwell Field.

Flanders Gets Some - Friday December 5th

We've got a lot of stories to catch up with here at flanders is drunk but for those of you who weren't there I'll catch you up with what went down this very weekend.

You may or may not know that flanders, along with most of the authors here, is a member of the ultimate team at our esteemed small liberal arts institution. The frisbee team was having an end of the season bash in good ol' flanders basement and things were going smoothly. We invented a game a musical chairs-flip cup mashup that we cleverly dubbed "musical cups" and everybody was doing a fair bit of drinking. Flanders notably lost a full cup flip-off, but proceeded to keep himself under control and we probably only chanted 'Flanders is drunk' once or twice (a remarkably low number for a frisbee party).

Sadly the party would end when security busted us and we moved en masse to a different house hosting a dance party. Yours truly was having a good time doing my thing (trying hopelessly to get rid of an epic case of the hiccoughs, but I'll spare you that story). I noticed Flanders towards the back in the general vicinity of a girl, but didn't think much of it. Minutes later the effffffff-meister himself ran up to me - "Dude, through that door Flander is hooking up with a chick and if you come over here you can see it!"

You didn't have to ask me twice, I hopped out of the room and sure enough, flanders had picked the room with glass doors - allowing anybody in the hallway to witness Flanders rolling around in bed with a girl whos identity still remains unclear. The crowd grew and so did the groping. Nobody seemed to know what to do. After a couple minutes the owner of the room happened by and the effffffff-man told him that "some random kid is hooking up in your bed."

Obviously and fortunately the public display of affection was broken up and Flanders and his lady friend had to walk by us, still holding hands, and sheepishly leave the party. Effffff left with the parting words "please don't sexile me tonight, I have to get up early tomorrow!" to which Flanders replied "don't worry I won't".

Flanders of course was lying.

Characteristics of a drunk Flanders: closing his eye, letting his hair down, shotgunning by himself!

The regular progression that most people assume upon imbibing large amounts of alcohol doesn't accurately describe the progression that Flanders experiences upon commencing to drink. True to his nature as an extremophile, when flanders drinks, it's bound to become way crazier and way more hilarious.
The first thing that must be known about Flanders is that he has extremely low tolerance. Though it has progressed from the when he first started drinking and would get hammered from just a couple of beers, it still takes very little to push him over the edge. As a result, once he starts drinking he generally is quickly the drunkest person in the room. The other thing that must be known about Flanders is that when it comes to drinking, there are very few things that Flanders won't try. I can't list the number of times I've told Flanders to shotgun or chug and he'll do it, often much to the amusement of the rest of us. Furthermore, if you offer him a free beer in exchange, he'll do almost anything.
Every night we're thinking about drinking, at dinner Flanders will announce to us, "Guy's I'm gonna get SOOO hammered tonight!" Upon our response that maybe we're not interested in getting that drunk he'll often say something like, "that's fine but I'm getting wasted." One of his favorite get drunk quick strategies is the solo shotgun. Flanders gets out a beer and announces that he intends to shotgun it, and would any of us like to join him. When we tell him that no we'd rather just sip peacefully and enjoy each others company Flanders announces that he'll just have to do it by himself then. The problem is Flanders is awful at shotgunning, whenever he doesn't do it b himself he always comes in last. So when he does it by himself, he'll generally disappear to the bathroom for a while. I guess it just shows how independent Flanders is that he doesn't need other people to drink with him.
Finally as the night progresses, Flanders can often provide clues to how drunk he is. He'll start by letting his hair down, and leaning up against a wall and smiling contentedly, if not a little sketchily. After a little more drinking he'll close one of his eyes to stop his vision from being blurry and convince himself that he's not as drunk as he really is. When you ask Flanders "Why is your eye close, is it because you're too hammered to see?" He'll most likely rather forcefully reply with one eye still closed, "I don't know what you're talking about you asshole. Both my eyes are open. Your the one who's a drunk bitch." One of the defining factors of Flanders anytime, but especially when he's drunk is that he'll never admit that he's wrong or at fault.
At the end of almost every night, Flanders has the munchies and ends up running (not walking) to Milt's. "I run so that I can stay in shape and sweat some of the alcohol out." And run he does. Because he has yet to ever get a hangover, he can get black out drunk the night before, then wake up at seven and go for a twelve mile run. What an animal.
Finally when flanders passes out he passes out hard. We once drew on him and blogged on his computer while he was passed out in the adjacent bed. One of the drawings he never found. We had written it on the back of his leg just below his knee where he couldn't see it. it said, FLANDERS IS DRUNK!

Finals Week!

It's finals week and we are all immersed in our books and papers, except Flanders. Finals week for Flanders is not nearly as stressful as the rest of us and hopefully he will have some time to party. Keep an eye out for some classic Flanders stories as the week progresses. These will be the last stories from Bates before he heads of to Europe and the new city slogan of Budapest becomes "Flanders van részeg"

My first encounter with Flanders

The first time I met Flanders he was drunk. I believe it was during a mid-week Halloween festivity sophomore year, and I was walking with a friend back to campus. At this point Flanders comes up to us and introduces himself, then proceeds to explain how he will friend both of us on Facebook immediately. He wanders off, but then we find him again ten minutes later, where he reintroduces himself. The funny thing is, he did remember to friend us on Facebook that night. Now this is a man who doesn't let alcohol get in the way of his promises.

Flanders loses his drinking virginity

So... its 2:00 and Flanders is passed out on his bed in his rubix cube clothing (dress) (I'm not suprised). This brings back memories of the first night "Flanders was drunk." It happened also to be a rubix cube party, the second weekend of his sophomore year and we were playing flip cup. Finally, Flanders decided to join in on the action. After a short few rounds of flip cup, Flanders was HAMMERED! But he continued to insist that he was not drunk because... "I don't drink, how could I be drunk?" Anyways, the evening progressed and the team decided to head over to our home turf, Bardwell, and play some drunken night Ultimate. Flanders exclaimed, "Hey guys let's go streaking." It is at this moment that I pull into the Bardwell parking lot from a night out on the town. I walk through the infamous pines and end up on Bardwell with the entire team playing a fucked up game of Ultimate. Except something wasn't right. Flanders is completely naked, and definitely the only person that has removed any article of clothing. At the time, I was a little confused because I was still under the impression that of course Flanders didn't drink. But it soon became clear to me, Flanders had lost his drinking virginity!!!!

Creation!

the monster is born!