One dude brings a bottle of sorghum liquor that he got from his family back in China. Everyone takes a few shots, and before you know it half the room is passed out, half the room is vomiting, and nobody ever made it out to BU.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25708447)

180

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#35186760)

They leave the comedy club in various stages of tipsiness and definitely want to hit up a bar or dance club next, but can't agree on which one. The girl who's had the most to drink gets sick and vomits into a gutter while the others stand around and say "oh my god are you ok?"

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25708509)

Spin the bottle is played, because they're old enough where it can be ironically fun. Two very inebriated chicks make out with each other, a story that will unfortunately follow them around for the next decade.

One kid inevitably takes more shots of vodka than his frail freshman body can take and is rushed to the campus teaching hospital to get his stomach pumped. The campus police, knowing this happens every year, had notified the hospital and an ambulance was standing by.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25708564)

They don't all drink the same thing. Some of them ask what the best local IPA is. Some of them go with rum and coke. One dude who is Mormon just gets a diet sprite.

But they all belt out the same tune at karaoke. "Werewolves of London" - and they make the howls in multi-part harmony while the crowd cheers.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25708604)

He cackles with delight. In an affected German accent, he says "they called me mad. but today, I will see what happens when I mix two different brands of bourbon. mwahahahahahahaha!"

the resulting mixture is an abomination in the eyes of God, but he drinks it anyway. Lightning strikes in the distance, temporarily illuminating the darkened lab. "Who has no breakfast now!", he thunders

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25708636)

holy lol

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25714983)

Having left behind the Coors Light of their college days, our young professionals are signaling their self-perceived maturity by procuring the comestibles and combustibles they associate with high status: wine, cheese, and crackers. All from Trader Joe's of course.

A paralegal at an IP litigation firm, who had pregamed by going out with coworkers for happy hour (part of a three month project to try all of the city's happy hours) is already losing precise motor control and spills a glass of red wine onto the brand new carpet the property management company had lovingly installed not two months ago.

Silence sweeps into the apartment, on pounding cheetah feet. The host turns off the jazz music playing on the sound system. People start giving contradictory advice on how to clean up the carpet and getting out the stain.

"Cover the carpet with bleach!"

"No, don't use bleach!"

"Pour baking soda over it. Or baking powder, I don't remember which!"

"BLOT, don't rub!"

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25708690)

A variety of drinking vessels line up for a sample of the new batch. Some bring German-style beer steins. One dude has a fucking drinking horn. Others have earthen mugs, and some lazy fuckers just brought modern beer glasses.

"Huzzah mead!", one participant yells. The scene soon descends into a frenzy of hip-hip-hoorays and toasts to the health of the king. The village cobbler begins hitting on a visiting pirate wench (whose tight corset gives her stare-worthy cleavage on both her front and her back), and they will end up fucking that evening.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25708736)

As people get drunker, it is determined that a "Gangnam Style" dance-off is called for. It is, after all, the height of the song's popularity. Several senior executives get on stage and start dancing. Suddenly, the stage beneath them creaks. One portly 47-year old middle manager panics and loses his balance. He takes a big tumble off the stage and seriously injuries his back. Women shriek, men look around with no idea what to do. The music goes off.

Since a workplace safety issue happened, the company can look forward to an embarrassing visit from OSHA. A liability lawsuit is almost certain to come as well.

The next day, Richard Reiner, 27, comes to work at 9:00 AM. He has just been hired as an assistant general counsel. He finds two somber men in suits at his desk, waiting for him. "Mr. Reiner," one of them says. "We need a new company policy on holiday parties. Can you help us draft it?"

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25710737)

These are more pedestrian USC students. None of the guys can trace their ancestry to Charleston elites, only a few can trace to plantation owners. All of the girls are at least slightly overweight and some are wearing sweat pants. And they're doing the same thing they have done every weekend since the semester started: going to somebody's dorm room to play beer pong.

The game starts. Team Jed is taking a strong lead over Team Liam. A bunch of the freshman girls, whose alcohol tolerance is not particularly good yet, decide it would be hilarious to start talking in British accents.

Within a half hour, everyone is talking in a British accent.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25711148)

Also you obviously arent from the south...there were probably like 40 plantations in all of SC but anyone whose grandad was a doctor or lawyer or banker before WW2 is now from an "elite charleston family"

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25718514)

Clearly, both men could help each other. But can they build trust?

Viktor orders a shot of vodka, straight up. He takes it in front of Grigory, with no apparent effect. Grigory orders a more expensive vodka, also taking a shot of it. Wiping his mouth, he says "Good evening Viktor Nikolayevich! How are you doing?" - the ordinariness of the phrase shows how he too is unaffected by such pathetic quantities of hard liquor.

The two men trade increasingly larger and more potent shots throughout the night. By 11 AM, they are bear hugging each other and dancing together to traditional Russian folk songs. This will be a long and fruitful business partnership.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25711162)

One Friday night they in their apartment wallowing through several bottles of absinth and cheap champagne when they get an idea: why not do something typically Alaskan on the East Coast? And what could be more Alaskan than...bear hunting!

So they sneak into the Philadelphia zoo and find the bear enclosure. As they try to climb into the cage, they set off an alarm. Ethan gets away and hides, but Jacob is stuck in the fence. The police arrive and begin arresting Jacob. Ethan is still shitfaced, but the desire to protect his bro overrides all else. So he takes off his pants, puts them on his head to make himself look scarier. Then he charges the police with a knife in hand.

Oh crap, he realizes the police are armed and he'll need a projectile weapon too.

So he slices off his own penis and throws it at the police.

The re-attachment surgery is not successful.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25711263)

delivered

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25711295)

No, a member of their group has printed out a flyer from a left-leaning political discussion forum. What does it contain? Directions for a DEBATE WATCH DRINKING GAME.

Everyone has a red cup of their favorite alcoholic beverage. When John McCain says "maverick" or talks about the need to finish the job in Iraq? Yep, that's a drink. When Barack Obama says "let me be clear?", yep, that's also a drink.

The crowd becomes rowdier and rowdier as the otherwise unmemorable debate stretches on. The shouts of "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN???" get louder each time John McCain says something.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25711290)

u actually went to this one, didn't you

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25715015)

Being chill, alpha bros who learned how to balance life and success during their non-feeder COA clerkships, they take a gaggle of 2Ls out to a fancy place and get bottle service, a first for many in the crowd.

One particularly enthusiastic 2L is new to Philadelphia: he just transferred in a few months ago after dominating at a much lower ranked school. He wears large round glasses and peppers the associates with questions about their practice area all night long. He laughs awkwardly at every single joke they make.

He's really the only guy from that group they'll remember. And he won't be getting an offer from Skadden: not at 2L OCI, and not at 3L OCI.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25714722)

They stare intently at the rocket as it blasts off and goes higher and higher into the atmosphere. Finally, it is successfully placed into high Earth orbit. The mission is on its way to success!

Scattered claps grow into thunderous applause as more team members realize what has just happened. Finally, a middle aged man with a raggedy tie and a potbelly goes to the fridge, and brings out a bottle of champagne that he bought at Wal-Mart a few years ago. It was the most expensive bottle of champagne that Wal-Mart sold back then.

"I've been saving this for a special occasion," he tells his teammates.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25714758)

The CEO is staring intently outside the large glass window in his office. He is holding a bottle of premium vodka, a niche brand that few have heard of but that the city's hottest clubs almost universally stock.

"Are you familiar with this brand of vodka?", he asks the escort whom he has paid to be his sole companion. She shakes her head.

"The water that this vodka is made with comes from springs deep in the heart of the Mongolian desert. It comes from an oasis that thousands of desperate men have died trying to reach. Today the Mongolian government only allows a small percentage of the water to be harvested, lest it dry up."

"So the water gives it a special flavor?"

"No. Any special characteristics of the water are lost when it is filtered back in America. There is nothing special about the vodka. Its success is pure marketing. It is a gimmick, a fraud upon the outside world!"

There was something off about his tone on the last sentence, the woman thinks. She nervously plays with a strap on her tight red dress.

"And you know what? It's not just this vodka. ALL success is just marketing. ALL success is a fraud!"

Just as she realizes where this is going, the man pulls a handgun from his jacket, puts it to his forehead, and yanks the trigger.

A single shot rings out. Brains and blood spatter on the wall. The bottle of vodka falls to the floor and breaks.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25714846)

With a drink in her hand, Kelly-turned-Hannah sees someone coming towards her out of the corner of her eye. Is it...oh god, it is.

It's Timothy Chang. He has been unsuccessfully hitting on her for the last two months. And he must have stalked her and learned what her costume was, because he's dressed as friggin Martin Heidegger, the Nazi-sympathizing professor that the real Hannah Arendt had a torrid love affair with in grad school.

Timothy comes up and gives a hopelessly awkward (but bold) pickup line. Kelly clearly is having none of it. In a moment of poor decision, a frustrated Timothy gets way too into the Heidegger character and channels his anger into a Nazi salute.

Two weeks later, the administrative panel convened to investigate this incident suspends Timothy for two semesters. Informally, he is told he should start looking at other colleges. He will never attend medical school.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25714911)

Once the airplane reaches cruising altitude, KOR gives the signal to members of his crew. They take out their carry-on luggage and begin removing bottles of Patron they bought at the duty free shop. A stewardess sees what is happening and begins to object, but she is silenced when a member of KOREA hands her a wad of big-faced euro bills.

KING_OF_RUCKUS stands up and declares that the party is at wherever he is, and right now he is in Lufthansa Business Class. His assistants begin pouring patron into the cups of other passengers. Several white businessmen begin to take advantage of this initial patron offering.

The alcohol acts as a social lubricant, and soon many passengers are engrossed in conversations with their seatmates. A few even approach KOR. They learn of the excellent deals he has secured on luxury goods recently, and many become interested in investing in his upcoming line of upmarket skullcaps.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25714981)

After exchanging initial pleasantries, they begin to share a bottle of fine scotch. Then, they get down to business. Today's topic? An upstart Austrian Corporal named Adolph Hitler, who has made news of late in the Weimar Republic.

"Hitler will never be Chancellor so long as Hindenberg is alive," one man confidently announces. "I'm not so sure," the other man says. "The old man might be pressured into selecting another man of the hour. But I'll tell you this much: Hitler's first term as Chancellor will be his last. He won't be able to revive the economy, he'll be blamed for another round of inflation, and his political career will end up in the gutter like so many prior reichskanzlers. And if he tries anything funny with his brownshirts, the Communist paramilitaries won't let him get away with it. They'll fight each other to the death before either can seize complete power."

"I still think you give the man too much credit," his conversation partner said. "Say, would you like a cigar?"

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25715084)

They look at each other nervously. "Why don't you come with us," one of them finally says. "Meet us in the fields on the next night when the crescent moon is waxing."

A few days later, Magdalena meets the other village women in the fields. In silence, they go into the woods. Magdalena walks for what seems to be hours, finally arriving at a clearing. Other women are there, from villages like hers. As are a few men in robes. They appear to be setting up a religious service.

"Are you followers of Luther?", she asks the men.

"Nein," they smile. "But we know Luther well. He does our bidding!"

Fires are lit, and the men prepare a drink that is passed around in an earthen cup. The women line up to take it, and Magdalena does the same. To her surprise, it doesn't taste like the beer she is expecting.

Before she can place the taste, she feels a lightness in her head. Her body is floating. No. Her body is on the ground, but is her soul floating? Can she see her body beneath her on the ground?

Her vision blurs. Magdalena cannot make out anything on the ground below, except for brief glimpses. She sees the woods, she sees fields, she sees houses and even a church spire or two. She can't place them - they look familiar, but not like any place she has ever been.

Finally, her senses return. She is in a clearing again. Whether it's the same clearing or another, she cannot tell. The men in robes are gone. But there is another man: an extremely tall man, with the head of a goat. Magdalena is disgusted by his appearance, but cannot resist him. In her trance-like state, she instinctively gives herself up to him.

He enters her in body and mind. It is an intensely pleasurable experience. But each second of ecstasy is followed by a second of regret, of fear. She cannot stop what is happening - she doesn't want to - but she cannot fully embrace it either.

Magdalena does not remember what happens next. She wakes up in her bed, next to her loving husband Hans. Within a few weeks, it is obvious that she is with child. Hans is overjoyed. "I hope it is a son, who can carry on my name and work the fields with me!", he proclaims.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25715233)

Jeff entered an abandoned courtroom, and followed the sound of voices to a room where his fellow Vice Chancellors had already convened. They congratulated Jeff, and exchanged pleasantries for a while. After years of practice, he was familiar with all of them. They talked about old cases, precedents, and stories about the free-wheeling corporate raider days of the 1980's. They drank wine and spirits, which one of his new colleagues had graciously brought from his personal collection.

The Chancellor arrived a half hour later. "It is time," he said.

The other Vice Chancellors filed out. Jeff followed. They went down a flight of stairs he had never seen before, into the basement. They passed through a gigantic wooden door, which Jeff had never seen open.

There, he saw a spacious room, well decorated in the neoclassical style. The columns seemed off, and he did not recognize any of the figures on the murals. Were they allegories of corporate law?

The Governor was there, as was Chief Justice Strine. As they got further into the chamber, the smell of carbon grew stronger. Behind the Chief Justice, Jeff saw a marble statue. It was a man sitting on a throne. He wore a crown, but one that Jeff had never seen before. Ram's horns grew out of his head, rising above his curling hair. The man's arms stretched out towards the viewer, and his hands were charred black with ash.

"You must be wondering what's going on," said Chief Justice Strine. "Welcome to the tophet. This is Lord Hammon, the god of multitudes. The god of Delaware. Our state's fortunes wax and wane with his whim. We serve him here, so that our fair state may continue to lead the nation in efficient corporate law, and so that a state sales tax will continue to be unnecessary."

"Ana Ba'al Hammon!", the chancellors exclaimed.

Chief Justice Strine smiled. "Lord Hammon is fickle. Sometimes, it is just blood that he demands. Other times, it is souls. We're in luck: today he demands only your kiss."

"Ana Ba'al Hammon!", the chancellors again chanted.

The Governor, still silent, motioned towards the statue. Jeff walked nervously towards his new deity, awkwardly planting a kiss on its marble tongue. The marble was warmer than any he had felt, almost eerily warm for stone kept underground, away from the sun. But Jeff was a Vice Chancellor of Delaware now. Many things would be different.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25715416)

"Tonight is gonna rock. It's gonna blow last night out of the water," Felicity says.

"Yeah," Rebecca responds. "We're not going to have to deal with that asian real estate lawyer who just kept talking about his basketball league. I heard Ryan Gosling hangs out here!"

The two finish their fruity cocktail drinks and hit the floor dance to Lady Gaga's new megahit, "Telephone". Then, there's commotion near the door. They look over to see what happening.

Some skinny girl with long blonde hair has entered the club. She looks underaged, but the bouncer not only let her in, but treated her with great deference. Despite this, she seems confused, lost, almost as if out of place.

"Like, who's that chick who's rocking kicks?", Felicity says disdainfully.

"She's gotta be from out of town."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2587861&forum_id=2#25720794)