While looking for a job, I jumped onto Craigslist. I found a link looking for volunteers and I called the number for the medical study of the year. The person who answered was a student that also worked for the University of Washington. He asked me some medical history questions and i passed. now that I was qualified to get hammered, he scheduled me for the following Monday to go in and start chugging.
When I got there, I found out that it was in the basement of some house in the college district and that my research guy was some stringy-haired, pasty-faced, skinny kid that looked barely old enough to ride Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland. He weighed me on an old looking scale and then led me to a small 10x10 room with a computer, a chair, a couch, a TV and a friggin' VCR! Awesome. Anyhow, I sat on the couch and signed some waiver and surveys, then he asked me to jump on the computer and answer the questions truthfully. As any of you know, I'm pretty truthful. This computer had no idea what was in store for it. The kid left the room and started to answer questions.
It took about an hour to answer questions about my sexual history, preference (I like my men like I like my coffee), and whether or not I have ever raped someone...wait a minute...what the fuck?! Err, no. This didn't stop me because all I could think about was getting paid to get drunk. So I continued answering the questions. When I was done, I called the kid back in and he concluded that I finished the first survey (first?! dammit) and I was ready for some drinkin'. Oh free liquor! I knew it wouldn't take long either cuz i had a empty stomach. When the kid returned he had a waitress tray with 3 Solo cups filled with orangy goodness.
Screwdrivers. How appropriate seeing how it was 10AM. The kid explained that he mixed the drinks according to my body-weight and size(damn). He then explained that I had 3 minutes to finish each one with a total of 9 minutes. The kid's a genius. NASA, I have your man right here. He took out a little stopwatch and announced that when I had one minute left per cup he would pop in and check how I was doing. I said OK and he closed the door. By this time i was drooling like a dog.
I took the first cup and sized it up. I sniffed the aroma and lo 'n behold...strength. I took my first sip...whoa baby. I had 3 minutes to drink 90% Monarch plastic bottle potato vodka and 10% Minute Maid frozen concentrate. 2 minutes later the kids pops in as promised to see me with an amalgam of confusion and bitterness on my face. A look that says "Why would you do this to me?" and "I love my life" rolled into one. He didn't seem to notice as he looked my cup and saw it was empty. He said I should slow down and use every minute of the remaining 7 minutes. I agreed and dismissed him. Back to drinking. With each passing minute, the screwdrivers got smoother.
When I was all done, the kid came back in and took the cups and produced his clipboard and asked me on a scale of 1-10 how intoxicated I felt. I said 3. 20 minutes later I said 8. He had me take a breathalyzer to confirm it. He seemed happy with the results and asked me to jump back on the computer. I said OK and I think I actually hopped my way to the chair. The kid said the next survey would be twice as long and it would contain a story that I would have to involve myself in. I said no problem and he left again. I started taking the survey when I noticed that some of the questions were the same as before. Oh you sly little PC! Ive got your number... I think I actually said that out loud. I do remember talking to myself a lot during the survey. Now it was asking a lot of personal questions. Stuff like how old was i when i had my first "fill in the blank" or was my family supportive during childhood? I found myself wishing this survey had comment spaces for all the questions. Then i got to the story.
It was like someone had written it expressly for Hustler. Typical guy to guy conversation about some chick I had been seen with and the chick in question was average girl one would see on Girls Gone Wild. At least in my drunken head it was. So I read it and imagined myself as the hero. I also imagined that i was back in Georgia. Stupid vodka. I got the girl back to my place and .... what would i do at this point of the story? What would you do? The story was designed to trick me into having imaginary sex without an imaginary condom. Clever. I wrote a goddamn novel. My eloquent contribution was so long I ran outta room and had to edit it.
When i was done, I called the kid. He came in and saved the program. He said I was done but I couldn't leave until my BAC was down to .04. I took another breathalyzer and it was .084. He left and then came back with a menu that microwavable foods, drinks, and videos on it. Aha! The VCR! I picked some green tea, a microwavable chimichanga and Spinal Tap. Crank it to 11! I threw the tape in and goddammit it didn't work. So I changed the channel to PBS and watched some show about women's sexuality and took a breathalyzer every 30 min. 3 hrs later, the kid hands me a $70 check and thanks me for my time. I tell him 'anything for science's sake' and left.
Later on I found out that girls get 15 bucks an hour...stupid penis.
When I got there, I found out that it was in the basement of some house in the college district and that my research guy was some stringy-haired, pasty-faced, skinny kid that looked barely old enough to ride Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland. He weighed me on an old looking scale and then led me to a small 10x10 room with a computer, a chair, a couch, a TV and a friggin' VCR! Awesome. Anyhow, I sat on the couch and signed some waiver and surveys, then he asked me to jump on the computer and answer the questions truthfully. As any of you know, I'm pretty truthful. This computer had no idea what was in store for it. The kid left the room and started to answer questions.
It took about an hour to answer questions about my sexual history, preference (I like my men like I like my coffee), and whether or not I have ever raped someone...wait a minute...what the fuck?! Err, no. This didn't stop me because all I could think about was getting paid to get drunk. So I continued answering the questions. When I was done, I called the kid back in and he concluded that I finished the first survey (first?! dammit) and I was ready for some drinkin'. Oh free liquor! I knew it wouldn't take long either cuz i had a empty stomach. When the kid returned he had a waitress tray with 3 Solo cups filled with orangy goodness.
Screwdrivers. How appropriate seeing how it was 10AM. The kid explained that he mixed the drinks according to my body-weight and size(damn). He then explained that I had 3 minutes to finish each one with a total of 9 minutes. The kid's a genius. NASA, I have your man right here. He took out a little stopwatch and announced that when I had one minute left per cup he would pop in and check how I was doing. I said OK and he closed the door. By this time i was drooling like a dog.
I took the first cup and sized it up. I sniffed the aroma and lo 'n behold...strength. I took my first sip...whoa baby. I had 3 minutes to drink 90% Monarch plastic bottle potato vodka and 10% Minute Maid frozen concentrate. 2 minutes later the kids pops in as promised to see me with an amalgam of confusion and bitterness on my face. A look that says "Why would you do this to me?" and "I love my life" rolled into one. He didn't seem to notice as he looked my cup and saw it was empty. He said I should slow down and use every minute of the remaining 7 minutes. I agreed and dismissed him. Back to drinking. With each passing minute, the screwdrivers got smoother.
When I was all done, the kid came back in and took the cups and produced his clipboard and asked me on a scale of 1-10 how intoxicated I felt. I said 3. 20 minutes later I said 8. He had me take a breathalyzer to confirm it. He seemed happy with the results and asked me to jump back on the computer. I said OK and I think I actually hopped my way to the chair. The kid said the next survey would be twice as long and it would contain a story that I would have to involve myself in. I said no problem and he left again. I started taking the survey when I noticed that some of the questions were the same as before. Oh you sly little PC! Ive got your number... I think I actually said that out loud. I do remember talking to myself a lot during the survey. Now it was asking a lot of personal questions. Stuff like how old was i when i had my first "fill in the blank" or was my family supportive during childhood? I found myself wishing this survey had comment spaces for all the questions. Then i got to the story.
It was like someone had written it expressly for Hustler. Typical guy to guy conversation about some chick I had been seen with and the chick in question was average girl one would see on Girls Gone Wild. At least in my drunken head it was. So I read it and imagined myself as the hero. I also imagined that i was back in Georgia. Stupid vodka. I got the girl back to my place and .... what would i do at this point of the story? What would you do? The story was designed to trick me into having imaginary sex without an imaginary condom. Clever. I wrote a goddamn novel. My eloquent contribution was so long I ran outta room and had to edit it.
When i was done, I called the kid. He came in and saved the program. He said I was done but I couldn't leave until my BAC was down to .04. I took another breathalyzer and it was .084. He left and then came back with a menu that microwavable foods, drinks, and videos on it. Aha! The VCR! I picked some green tea, a microwavable chimichanga and Spinal Tap. Crank it to 11! I threw the tape in and goddammit it didn't work. So I changed the channel to PBS and watched some show about women's sexuality and took a breathalyzer every 30 min. 3 hrs later, the kid hands me a $70 check and thanks me for my time. I tell him 'anything for science's sake' and left.
Later on I found out that girls get 15 bucks an hour...stupid penis.
No comments:
Post a Comment