November 12, 2007
Student’s Final Keg Stand Was One Too Many
By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor
Toomer in All of His Dionysian Glory
(State College, PA)—According to his closest friends, Penn State junior Braylon Toomer is the quintessential party animal, and has the uncanny ability to sustain a kegger into the wee hours of morning.
Unfortunately, Toomer’s final keg stand last night rendered him “sicker than one of those bald cancer kids on chemo,” and he must now endure the painful aftermath of his wanton revelry.
“Since we always get a keg, it’s hard to know what my limit is in cans or bottles, but a safe estimate is probably fifteen or sixteen brewskies,” Toomer quietly explained, holding an ice pack to his throbbing temples. “But last night was fucked up from the beginning. We started with shots of Jack because my roommate got a handjob from this smokin’ hot waitress in an Applebee’s bathroom, so I was half tanked before the keg even came out. But I’m pretty sure it was that last stand at 3 a.m. that did me in.”
Despite the brutal throb of a dehydration migraine, Toomer offered a poignant reflection on the ritualized fellowship of binge drinking.
“I’m an anthropology major, dig, so like, all civilizations throughout time have had their unique ways of coming together as a people,” Toomer explained. “The Navajo had the sweat lodge, the Romans had their public baths, and us Penn Staters get fucking ripped four nights a week. Unless of course it’s midterms—we tend to dry out long enough to bring our grades up.”
Toomer in All of His Dionysian Glory
(State College, PA)—According to his closest friends, Penn State junior Braylon Toomer is the quintessential party animal, and has the uncanny ability to sustain a kegger into the wee hours of morning.
Unfortunately, Toomer’s final keg stand last night rendered him “sicker than one of those bald cancer kids on chemo,” and he must now endure the painful aftermath of his wanton revelry.
“Since we always get a keg, it’s hard to know what my limit is in cans or bottles, but a safe estimate is probably fifteen or sixteen brewskies,” Toomer quietly explained, holding an ice pack to his throbbing temples. “But last night was fucked up from the beginning. We started with shots of Jack because my roommate got a handjob from this smokin’ hot waitress in an Applebee’s bathroom, so I was half tanked before the keg even came out. But I’m pretty sure it was that last stand at 3 a.m. that did me in.”
Despite the brutal throb of a dehydration migraine, Toomer offered a poignant reflection on the ritualized fellowship of binge drinking.
“I’m an anthropology major, dig, so like, all civilizations throughout time have had their unique ways of coming together as a people,” Toomer explained. “The Navajo had the sweat lodge, the Romans had their public baths, and us Penn Staters get fucking ripped four nights a week. Unless of course it’s midterms—we tend to dry out long enough to bring our grades up.”