The Tale of the Angry Liver - Part One: Background

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Submitted for the approval of the Family Breakfast…[throws powder on the fire, and it goes *poof*]…I call this story “The Tale of the Angry Liver – Part One”.


College. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Fondly do I remember sitting on the quad, pondering ontological existence, smoking my pipe, and reading Donne in hopes that maybe a hot English major would pass by, take notice, and decide to go slumming…


For the record, the above scenario never actually happened…much to my chagrin. What did happen was one day, freshman year, as I was sitting quietly in the substance free dorm, most likely listening to Jason Mraz at obnoxiously loud levels with my window open so that any of the passing coeds would think “wow, that guy has culturally relevant music taste,” there was a rap-rap-rapping on my dorm room door. I opened the door to find two scruffy young lads, sporting their fraternity letters (which I later learned were like yuppie gang symbols in the croakie-wearing, natty-light chugging turf war of dudeness). They invited me to play a game of ultimate Frisbee, and so I took my muttonchop sideburns, and followed them towards a path of immediate acceptance…


I broke my ankle that day.


It was AWESOME.


In the following year, I learned a couple of really valuable lessons – not all personally, mind you, but they were valuable no less.

1. If you are going to sexile a buddy from his own room (a single) – make sure that your beer goggles are not fourteen inches thick. Penicillin cures a multitude of things, but a lifetime of shame is not one of them…

2. A combat helmet may be used in a pinch to create a battering ram, if a friend is about to make a decision as outlined in lesson #1. Simply attach it to your head, run towards the door as fast as your chubby little legs can carry you, and abandon all hope of ever winning that MacArthur genius grant…

3. The “Man” will always try to keep you down. Pee on his leg.

4. God invented Big Gulps for a reason. Pouring grain alcohol into them and floating them in the pool of the Wilmington Hilton, while singing Kumbaya atop inflatable crocodiles (and allegedly a hippopotamus), is not one of those reasons.

5. When a campus police officer comes to your room to break up a party and to ask you politely to turn down the music, it is not appropriate to drunkenly defend the fact that you were playing “Midnight Train” loud enough to get complaints from across the quad…BUT it is appropriate to defend Foreigner if some little piss-ant-newbie-campus-pig-tagalong tells you to “play some better music,” by responding “would you have perhaps preferred Air Supply.”

6. As a corollary to lesson number five, when handcuffed, it is in everyone’s best interest to not begin singing “Making Love out of Nothing at All…” It will simply piss off the little cop, who apparently had something to prove. Asshole.

7. If you have a fifth of Jägermeister, do not drink it in one sitting. You may anger your liver. Scratch that. You will anger your liver.


I can safely say that I did not learn the first one personally. On lesson number seven, however, I can speak personally. As for the others, no one knows...most likely because of life lesson number 2.


And that children, is where Grandpa Nutt will continue another day…