Loud, obnoxious, drunk people are one of my favorite things in the entire world. Considering I am one myself and that I go to one of the top universities for this genre of people, I deem myself extremely lucky.
Nothing screams fun to me like seeing people play Edward 40-Hands on their front porches while I casually stroll to and from class on a Tuesday afternoon, or hearing “Santeria” blaring from Frat Row on a Thursday morning at 7:00am. Nothing gets me going like a good, old-fashioned keg stand or a bottle of Burnett’s to the face.
Plain and simple: I love to party.
However, above all things beautiful about drinking, I can truthfully say that nothing – absolutely nothing – makes me smile as much as a Party Foul. Watching someone knock over the pong table, drop the bong, fall down a flight of steps, or even barfing, can easily take my night from a 5 to a 10. The sheer embarrassment that flushes over that persons face as everyone else yells “PARTY FOUL” is priceless – and quite honestly, I appreciate Party Foul’s to the extreme.
I’ve come to notice that when one person makes an ass out of their self, it unites the other 300 people at the party. The unity we get by simultaneously yelling like a bunch of barbaric jerkoffs is incredible, and I think it’s finally time for someone to appreciate the Party Foul-er.
To those of you who are constantly the dick head who perform the Party Foul: I thank you. You bring me enjoyment and you make me laugh. You take the attention off of my always-drunk-and-crying-best-friend and put it on yourself, as well as giving everyone else at the party something to share in common.
So to you, Mr. Party Foul: I raise my last glass of Franzia for consistently taking one for the team.