Balcony Testing
What YouTube Was Made For
Indisputable facts from the extensive research I will eventually get around to, tell us that the first-ever sport was called Balcony Testing and it is still being played on college campuses around the world.
How do you play Balcony Testing?
Step 1: step onto balcony.
Step 2: confirm stability, step off balcony.
Step 3: utilizing “Step 2,” acquire running start towards said balcony.
Step 4: heave broken fridge onto the pavement below.
The whole point of Balcony Testing is to justify throwing large objects from high places onto hard ground. Objects you may see hurtling through the air during a rigorous match of Balcony Testing include but are not limited to: chairs, bikes, dressers, microwaves, mini fridge’s, flaming washing machines, convicted felons, accused felons, people who may one day become felons, and Rosie O’Donnell.
One memorable balcony-related incident was not actually part of the testing game, but has since become the stuff of campus legends. I’ve heard this story told so many times I feel like I was there on that fateful night long ago... (screen turns fuzzy thus symbolizing dream sequence).
The year before I came to college there was a senior named Lee. Lee knew how to party. Hard. One night after a drinking an amount that you wouldn’t believe if I typed it, he was stumbling around on the balcony talking on the phone. Two guys were in the hallway watching him struggle to pronounce single-syllable words. Then, somehow, he stumbled in such a way that his pelvis hit the railing, his body contorted, and he tumbled over head first. The Balcony was a good fifteen feet off the ground. A sober person jumping feet first would have a hard time landing safely let alone a blacked out idiot diving head first.
The two guys in the hallway picked up their dropped jaws and raced downstairs. Other house residents and assorted guests saw them running and did what came naturally; they followed.
The crowd reached the front lawn. Some gasped, some stuttered. Others simply stared with mouths agape.
“Lee?” asked one of the guys.
Lee turned around.
“Wha’ d’you wan’ uckers…?” Lee mumbled, as he paced back and forth in the front yard carrying on the same conversation as before. “I’m on da phone…’uck off...”
He was covered in dirt and grass stains but otherwise appeared perfectly fine. The crowd looked from Lee to the balcony and back, not believing their eyes.
Not surprisingly, no one believed their story – including me, until one day when I was told of a, well, incident that had, um, recently occurred that was even more, uh, spectacular…
There are two guys at a nearby college who could have made the cast of MTV’s Jackass. Yes, everyone thinks they have that one friend who is “seriously crazy bro!” but trust me, they are nothing compared to these two. I partially base this claim on the fact that I do not personally know them, but I somehow know more their shenanigans than I do my little sister. I may not be exaggerating.
They are balls-to-the-wall out-of-their-fucking-minds crazy. They have no regard for the general well being of their internal organs. Add four energy drinks and fifteen shots of rum and they literally have no regard for their lives. Their death, I’m guessing, will be ruled a suicide.
Reporter: “Tragic news today as a twenty-year old college student committed suicide. The young man was wearing a French Maid costume and attempting to ride a skateboard off the roof of his three-story fraternity and down a water slide. Friends say he had never once stepped foot on a skateboard but was ‘a drunk fucking idiot.’”
It was 2am on a party night. Tons of people were hanging around. Streets, sidewalks, front yards, back yards, side yards, porches, balconies – everywhere. Their house had bought flats upon flats of energy drinks and beer for that evening’s party, and TreeBeard and TheTaco were not in the mood to extend their lifespan. Use the following equation to see if you’ve ever had a night like this:
X = [(AB + C) – D + {E – (½ x F)} + G]
A = Number of energy drinks consumed.B = Number of energy drinks intravenously injected into jugular vein.
C = Number of shots poured into aforementioned energy drinks when drinker was not looking.
D = Number of minutes of downtime due to relocation of shoulder.
E = Number of girls in audience with influential D-sized breasts.
F = Number of potential jail sentences served for reckless endangerment.
G = Average GPA of participating drunks. X = Number of digital cameras needed to truly capture the level of absurdity.
Drunken Haiku:
There’s two crazy guys
Named TreeBeard and TheTaco
Do not ask me why
What started the whole event was that the sorority next door to TheTaco’s house had just gotten new mattresses and left the old ones by the dumpsters. Fellow partygoers helped the duo carry the mattresses to the yard, arranging them according to their drunken whim. The concept of “bouncing” apparently never crossed their minds. TreeBeard was up.
He climbed atop the railing, yelled some incoherent mix of sexual innuendos and curse words, and leapt off. The crowd’s heads bobbed up…aaaaand down.
TreeBeard landed softly on his ass and then shot up like a jack-in-the-box. Three feet. Four feet. Five feet. He eventually fell back to earth and landed square on the back of his big Russian friend Dimitri.
TreeBeard rolled off the big guy. TheTaco was up. He climbed, cracked a beer, starting chugging, and jumped. He hit, bounced, spun, and hit the ground hard some ten feet in front of the mattresses. To his credit, he never stopped chugging.
Straight jumps turned into 360s, 360s to front flips, and front flips to front flip 360s. But jumping wasn’t enough. Rock Stars kept finding their way to TreeBeard and TheTaco’s lips, and Captain Morgan had a habit of sailing his way into the cans.
It was going to get ugly (read: “awesome”).
It recently had become a competition to get the largest number of people ready to dial 9-1-1 on their cell phones. Like all adrenaline and alcohol-fueled activities, the hype keeps growing until someone breaks more than one major bone or loses at least a liter of blood. After TheTaco’s next stunt you would have thought both would happen. Twice.
TreeBeard hadn’t necessarily given up so much as he had passed out on his way up to the balcony and was mumbling about Stevie Wonder and black piano keys. TheTaco helped a grumbling Dimitri bring out an empty dresser. It had a solid frame and three shelves, each one an inch thick of solid oak (although from what my friends know of wood, it could have just as easily been birch). Two guys balanced it on top of the mattresses. If there’d been a sober soul in sight they would have stopped the madness.
TheTaco was going to elbow-drop a dresser from the balcony.
TheTaco was going to elbow-drop a dresser from the balcony.
TheTaco was going to elbow-drop a dresser from the balcony.
Just thought I’d let that sink in a little.
He got on the railing some twenty feet above the dresser and, mimicking his wrestling icon The Rock, tore off his fake elbow pad, threw it into the audience, raised one leg and brought The People’s Elbow to life.
Down he sailed, parallel to the ground, elbow above his head, a drunkenly fierce cry issuing from his drunken lungs. The moment was described to me as “amazingly great in the most horrible way.” It’s the kind of thing you think about when people say “I wonder if you could…”
The sound his elbow made when it hit the top of the dresser was stupefying. The crack! was so loud you’d have thought the impact rippled through his body shattering every bone. He made contact and immediately spun like a top, completing almost two full spins before landing on the mattresses in front of the dresser and springing up to a standing position.
The dresser toppled over revealing nothing more than the indefinable substances that grow on the back and bottoms of dressers.
“Taco – you ok? Can you move your arm?”
He just stood there, bent over and clutching his elbow. The crowd collectively moved their cell phones from camera back to 9-1-1 readiness. No one could see his face but they could hear him breathing shakily through clenched teeth. When he spoke his words were soft but clear, slow and enunciated.
“I…need…a beer.”
“Hooray!!!”
Moral: Friends don’t let friends elbow drop dressers from the balcony.
Go to Alex's Official Site, www.AlexBash.com
Buy The ImBible: Drinking Games for Times You'll Never Remember with Friends You'll Never Forget
alexbash1@gmail.com
Sometimes The Imbible and I watch the sunrise.
Alex Bash is author of The Imbible: Drinking Games for Times You’ll Never Remember with Friends You’ll Never Forget, currently available for pre-order on amazon.com. It hits shelves August 5th, and is not responsible for your lowered GPA and standards.
In contrast to his general belligerence, Alex works at a hospital where he saves lives, which he likes to remind people is no big deal. He can say otolaryngology in three languages and knows more about the Orbitofrontal Cortex than is necessary for someone who is not, technically, a doctor. He enjoys bubblegum toothpaste, strawberry Pop Tarts, and bench press.
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Pretty Much Daily Quote
"A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts...except slurred, deragatory, and covered in Mexican food."
~ Alex Bash, 2008
Blog
Letting Yourself be Overwhelmed
(7/16/08) Sometimes life can be overwhelming, and even all the beer in the world can't help. It's at time like these you need to let yourself be overwhelmed, even if only for a moment, and then fight back against the forces that be.
Also, you should switch to hard liquor, because it gets you drunk faster.
Growing Up
(7/9/08)Sometimes when I look back at my life and the things I’ve done and been in to over the years, I get sad because I know I’ll never possess that level of ignorance. I’ll never be able to be the young and blissful without knowing that at least part of it is an act. The silliness will never be as silly, the goofiness never as goofy, and Saturday morning cartoons will become infinitely less entertaining without the addition of either nudity or cursing.
Then again, I can now legally drink myself into oblivion by my own free will, get a blowjob in the bar’s bathroom stall, and watch the sun rise from the top of a water tower I’m finally strong enough to climb.
Maybe growing up isn’t so bad.
Drinking with my best friends: Imbible, Imbible, Imbible, and Steve.
I really wish I could remember where this was taken.
People have told me this picture encapsulates who I am. Not sure what to think of that.
My editor sent me an extra large digital copy of The Imbible. I brought it to Canada with me...eh.
When in Rome, do as a frat boy does when he has ten minutes to get drunk for a date function.
Undefeated, naturally.
Synopsis
What do you do when you wake up in an unfamiliar neighborhood hand-cuffed to a fire hydrant, clothed in nothing but socks and pink nail polish, your hand clutching a stained legal document…written in French? Celebrate! You just had a great night! And to think—it all started with The ImBible.
Praise for The Imbible
"The Imbible introduces Bash as a major new talent in the genre of 'books most likely to make you run through campus naked…'" – Officer Hernandez
"A stunning debut by that guy who kept us up 'til 4am with drunken choruses of Wonder Wall..." - The Sorority Next Door
"A moving story about a college freshman eventually finding his pants from last night." - Overpaid Lobbyist
"No, but really, the book is hilarious. He's a seriously funny author." – Guy who is taking this way too seriously
"I have not woken up before noon since Alex wrote this book. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing." – Alex's roommate
Sample Games
Why You Should Buy The Imbible
If you feel bad buying a book about drinking, just cover up the first 5 letters.
The U.S. Marines’ first recruiting station was in a bar. The Marines kill bad people. Are you pro bad people?
Because if you don’t remember how you got the scar, you can make up as manly as story as you like.
18 games of beer pong is a scapegoat for anything.
THE IMBIBLE is guaranteed to lower your standards in 5 chapters or less!
Random Quotes from The Imbible
Emotions can definitely run high, so it's in your best interest to drink yourself numb.
Can you get a DUI riding a bike around the playground? I think not!
It’s only a matter of time before we’re boning fat chicks and singing-along to American Pie.
Note: Gold Medals do not prevent whiskey dick.
Whether you wear pants or not when you do this is on you.
I hope God doesn't count this night against me.
Pre-gaming a career fair.
Sometimes The Imbible and I do the Can-Can at 4am and then wake up in the front lawn clutching three empty bottles of champagne.