March 19, 2013
"Chasers are a very big thing for you" - When Harry Met Vodka
When it comes to drinking liquids, whether it's #44 diet coke, #54 iced coffee, or semen, betches are often very particular. Because of our highly sophisticated palates and innate aversion to anything with fucking calories we're quite mindful of what we put in our mouths. So naturally, when a betch is invited to a pregame her first thought, after what am I going to wear?!, is always "they better have good fucking chasers."
Here's the thing with chasers: if we had an option, we would rather not have to supplement our vodka with more liquid (more work, more bloat), but because vodka shares the same taste as toilet bowl cleaner, we're deprived of such a choice. Throwing toxic poisons back can take its toll on our delicate throats and while our gag reflex is helpful in other endeavors, it's not exactly helpful when we're trying to get fucked up. Thusly, we must make do with what Mother Blackout has given us, and just opt with chasers that taste good but will not double the size of our ass.
Options include: Diet Coke, Diet Sprite, Diet Ging, seltzer, generally anything diet, and water for those on a diet. Sugar free Red Bull for the tired betch and diet Snapple for those with a distaste for carbonation.
Options never fucking include: Cranberry juice (unless its the 0 cal kind), Orange juice, Apple juice. Put it this way, the only time you should be drinking juice is out of a sippy cup. This isn't fucking #65 Sex and the City. No one is gaining admission to blackout city off two fucking 300 calorie Cosmopolitans.
Often you'll hear a betch say, "Oh shit we totally don't have any chasers," which will result in the ultimate game of the Threshold: (you can read more about the Threshold Theory in Nice is Just a Place in France) "Who is Less Lazy to go Down the Street to Pick Up a Bottle of Diet Coke." But then there are those nights, aka last Friday, when literally no one is willing to go get it so you end up chasing with Poland Spring and freshly squeezed lemons. It wasn't bad, actually.
[Side note: Some people enjoy chasing with orange juice while I prefer not to drink my vodka with tangy vomit. Once you associate that shit with vodka you can never ever go back.]
However, there is almost nothing worse than showing up at someone else's #23 pregame only to find that the chaser selection and/or quantity is limited. This is when Ration Mode goes into full effect. How to know if a betch is in ration mode: In one hand she will be holding an almost empty cup of Diet Sprite while in the other she holds a huge cup of alcohol. Always be in in high alert for this betch because before you know it, you've just had a convo with her and didn't even realize she asked you to borrow your drink for a sec and poured half of it into her own. Some may call this rude, but we to call it Survival of the Drunkest.
Another miserable situation in which chasers are involved is when you show up to a guys' apartment to pre game and when you look over to their table of alcohol all you see are RED bottles of soda. An alarm immediately goes off in your head…REGULAR COKE, FUCKING REGULAR COKE!? WHY DON'T YOU JUST SLAP A FIFTEEN POUND WEIGHT ON MY ASS AND SAVE ME SOME TIME, ASSHOLE.
It's a well known fact the only the manliest of bros can down shots with no chasers. Thinking you can keep up with these guys by throwing back Jameson shots au naturel makes you one step closer to being chill enough to pay for your own dinner. Similar to everything else in your life, your chaser selection should be elite. Like any #32 winning relationship savvy betch knows, the only thing you should ever chase is a vodka shot.