Last Friday apparently was Newman Day which Flanders certainly knew. Unfortunately for you all I basically talked him out of it. He didn't want to do it alone (I guess that's a little more alcoholic then shotgunning alone, even for the Flan-man). I would (did) have considered it but
a) it was the third day of class I'd be drinking through
b)We had class the next day at 9
c) Flanders isn't even in the same class room as I so I wouldn't even witness the real drunkeness of it all
d)We had been here less than a week, I didn't really know how to get home late at night, let alone wasted late at night (I'd find that out later, if there's a YoYoYoisdrunk blog somewhere that Flanders is authoring it's quite a story)
e)A million other reasons.
So that was disappointing, but Flanders provided some entertainment anyway. We were getting lunch at a buffet style restaurant recommended to us. After awkwardly ordering food Flanders found what appeared to be the only beer at the place. Leave it to Flanders to drink at the buffet. He said it was to celebrate Newman Day or what not. Anyway, we're eating at a table and Flanders casually asks "What does alchoholius freeus mean in German?" (Obviously this is not correct, as that looks like latin, but it was that clear). Sure enough in about seven languages the beer was alchohol free. Flanders was pissed, asking what's the point, comparing it to decaf coffee and such. Flanders couldn't get drunk at class.
Later that night we had a local take us on a bar hop around town. Showed us a few cool local pubs. Flanders had a few beers but mostly remained well behaved as far as I can remember. After we decided to check out this baller castle in Buda. Flanders proceeded to explain to everyone how we'd visited a casino and how he'd won money on the tram over. Nobody was particularly interested in his story, and the tram was a lot for a tipsy Flanders to handle, more than once almost falling right into my lap. This was the groups first look at drunk Flanders, and I think they didn't know what to do.
On the walk home Flanders seemed to lose 15 years in age and wouldn't stop asking "Are we there yet?" over and over. I don't know what this was about. Didn't really follow the usual drunk characteristics. I can only hypothesize that the pace was less than his 8 minute mile marathon clip and he wanted to run somewhere. Anyway, the next day he claimed, that was such a long walk last night, we walked at least ten miles after Moskva Ter (Moscow Square you ignorant Americans). In reality it had been literally a short jaunt across the street.
It was a relatively quiet night, but I tried to document it well because it was the groups first experience with drunk Flanders. Saturday (story coming soon) would prove to be another experience for them and soon I will try to teach them the chant. Until next time, peace out from Maygarorszag.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Where the hell is Flanders?
Not as exciting at the title suggests, but this happened before we even arrived in Hungary.
Flanders and I realized a couple days before that we were taking the same connecting flight to Budapest from London Heathrow. This was most exciting to me because if I was lost in a foreign land at least I wasn't lost alone, but I digress. We made the plan to meet up in the airport by the gate of our connecting flight. Seems reasonable enough. So I arrive at Heathrow without trouble and as I'm going through security I see Flanders in the distance. I didn't really want to make a commotion trying to flag him down, so I watched the direction that he went and carried on my way. Hell yeah, this was going to be easy.
I get through security and wander the way he seemed to have gone. He's nowhere to be found, but that's not that ridiculous. This is Terminal 5, but it's freaking enormous. I'm told this is the new terminal, but still, Heathrow is obviously a big airport from what I've seen. So I go check to see where the gate is. Whoops, they don't tell you what gate it is until an hour before...and I have like a five hour layover. So I wander some more, yo-yo in the most prominent area (an activity I felt might draw enough attention while wasting time), surf the internet, watch some Mad Men, wander some more, and yo-yo some more. About 3 and a half hours later I turn around and two rows of chairs back is Flanders, sitting towards me oblivious.
I yell at him. "What the hell man, I've been yo-yoing here for like twenty minutes?" Suffice to say he didn't see me. I ask him what he's been up to. He says he's had 2 or 3 pints in the bar while he waited. Not only that but British Airways gives free drinks (!!) so he's had a beer and wine on the plane (as well as coffee, water and apple juice...apparently he peed three times). At this point it's not fair to call him drunk, but he must have been buzzed.
To make matters more interesting we arrived around 8:00 GMT, which is 3:00 EST. So he was drinking most of these beers around 5 in the morning EST.
Flanders and I realized a couple days before that we were taking the same connecting flight to Budapest from London Heathrow. This was most exciting to me because if I was lost in a foreign land at least I wasn't lost alone, but I digress. We made the plan to meet up in the airport by the gate of our connecting flight. Seems reasonable enough. So I arrive at Heathrow without trouble and as I'm going through security I see Flanders in the distance. I didn't really want to make a commotion trying to flag him down, so I watched the direction that he went and carried on my way. Hell yeah, this was going to be easy.
I get through security and wander the way he seemed to have gone. He's nowhere to be found, but that's not that ridiculous. This is Terminal 5, but it's freaking enormous. I'm told this is the new terminal, but still, Heathrow is obviously a big airport from what I've seen. So I go check to see where the gate is. Whoops, they don't tell you what gate it is until an hour before...and I have like a five hour layover. So I wander some more, yo-yo in the most prominent area (an activity I felt might draw enough attention while wasting time), surf the internet, watch some Mad Men, wander some more, and yo-yo some more. About 3 and a half hours later I turn around and two rows of chairs back is Flanders, sitting towards me oblivious.
I yell at him. "What the hell man, I've been yo-yoing here for like twenty minutes?" Suffice to say he didn't see me. I ask him what he's been up to. He says he's had 2 or 3 pints in the bar while he waited. Not only that but British Airways gives free drinks (!!) so he's had a beer and wine on the plane (as well as coffee, water and apple juice...apparently he peed three times). At this point it's not fair to call him drunk, but he must have been buzzed.
To make matters more interesting we arrived around 8:00 GMT, which is 3:00 EST. So he was drinking most of these beers around 5 in the morning EST.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Updates Coming
As many of you know, it's been my job to keep tabs of Flanders as he travels to the land of the Magyars. He's sitting across from me though, and updates will have to come later.
There are a few good tales to come. Stay tuned.
There are a few good tales to come. Stay tuned.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Thursday, December 25, 2008
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
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
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
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.
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.
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