Beer Pong For the Masses

A very big, Virginia Law Weekly-type thumbs up to Prof. Armacost for, in a way that almost suggests a supernatural ability to read Dean Jefferies mind, decided to cancel Torts class on the exact same days this week that Crim was also cancelled. (Perhaps we could somehow use Aracost’s Jefferies-mind-reading abilities to find out once and for all if the Dean does indeed have a large collection of jorts that he wears on the weekend and to UVa sporting events and social gatherings). Anyway, the dual class calculation practically gave section J a four-day weekend, with only one class on Thursday and Friday—and everyone knows that Civ Pro barely counts as a class as it is. I was about to write that us diligent students in Section J jumped on the opportunity to plan parties on two consecutive evenings, complete with kegs and so much other forms of alcohol that I even got a little tipsy from the smell alone, but this would be a bit misleading, for, as we all know, section J would have thrown the parties even if we did have class at 9:00 AM the next morning.

We called the first of these social gatherings a “section mixer,” and the second was labeled “J&J’s Birthday Party.” Now the later is quite a confusing title, because, although Section J called the event J&J’s birthday, neither of the Js in J&J was actually “J”—the Js in J&J were Josh and Jeff—not to be confused with J’s other Js: Jim, James, Joel, the other James and the other Jeff. But, it doesn’t really matter how confusing the names of our get-togethers are because it is no secret that, although the parties have different labels, they all involve pretty much the same thing: that thing being, of course, drinking oneself so silly that he/she starts to believe that making out with 3 different guys on the same night is a good idea (notice that I included the he with the she).

Our section mixer on Thursday was also this humble writer's official introduction to the wide world of Beer-Pong (which is really just another excuse for people to drink themselves so silly that they start to believe that making out with 4 different guys on the same night is a good idea). I, of course, had to call in a pinch-drinker, and would like to thank Vikas for graciously volunteering to drink for the both of us, and sincerely hope that, as a result, he did not drink himself silly enough to engage in the above-mentioned activities. For anyone who is uncultured enough to be unfamiliar with beer-pong, it is quite as simple game: two teams set up nine partially-filled cups at either end of a table, and the teams take turns trying to throw a ping-pong ball into their opponent’s cups, carnival style, only without those giant stuffed gorillas that everyone wants so much when they are at the midway, but which always seem to end up with a 25¢ sticker firmly attached to its right ear at the winner’s next garage sale. When an opponent’s ball lands in your cup, you drink its contents and remove it from play. Now, I suppose the winner is the team that eliminates all of their opponent’s cups, but the way I see it, the magic of beer pong is that the games are always so close that, by the end, each team has drunk at least 8 cups of beer, so, keeping in mind that the real objective is drinking oneself so silly..., no matter who eliminates the last cup, everybody wins! (or everybody looses, if you take their livers’ point of view). Needless to say, beer-pong is such an entertaining and challenging sport that I smell an Olympic exhibition in the near future. Now, if only someone would start bringing stuffed animals for the beer pong champions to our next mixer/party/social/bar review/kegger/fox field/dandelion/pot-luck/barbeque/softball tournament/Tuesday.

Hasta luego