Flashback Friday! (Getting Drunk at Yale)
Most Fridays, I post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!
And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memory, word for word, photogenically, I say:
What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!
Thinking about that recent blog with the whole ‘crackle’ thing reminded me of about four or five thousand other funny things that happened while at Yale… while I was, you know… doing other things besides studying.
The best were the banana videos. My roommate Derek and I made a number of videos featuring a banana, including one where the banana was moving to the rhythm of the Ramones’ I wanna Be Sedated and then it winds up shooting me in the head. Someday, somehow, I hope to find those banana videos, and get them digitized just in time to bribe Derek who by that point will probably be just about poise to accept his first Academy Award for writing/directing.
But for every banana and crackle story I have for the 3.5 crazy years I was at Yale as an undergrad (not including the 6 months I lived in Spain), I also have stories from before I went to Yale. Like at one of my father’s reunions, where we gave my little two year old sister Daily beer in her bottle to “calm her.” (Social services, don’t worry – Daily turned out to be the most normal of all of us. Wait – maybe we’re on to something here!!??)
Or that time at the private Yale club Mory’s with my family and my uncle Steve and his kids (all Yale grads too), when my uncle was trying to explain to the Maitre D why it appeared that minors were drinking alcohol, and exactly at that moment I pulled up from a long brisk walk in the frozen air outside trying to sober up my three-sheets-to-the-wind ten year old brother (I was a very mature thirteen year old – but never could hold my liquor), and I dropped my glass exactly at that moment on the Maitre D’s shoes. After which my brother promptly threw up.
I think it pretty much followed that with as much studying and writing and test-passing that I did while at Yale (I did graduate Magna Cum Laude, after all), I would have to balance it all with as much drinking, wildness and less-than-ladylike behavior. Like, when I had drank/smoked so much at one friend’s party that I actually fell asleep in the hallway standing up.
Oh, there were plenty more hilarious and hair-raising escapades I’d recount for you now, except I’d like to continue to a.) Stay out of Jail, and b.) Not give my kids way more ammunition than they already have against me.
Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)