I've been drinking casually for a looooong time, but the first time I actually got really drunk I was 18. Me and my buddy got fairly hammered when we playd several games of beerpong and then watched The Simpsons Movie before passing out. However, the events leading up to the actual drinking were far more amusing than the actual drinking the first time. You see, we had been playing beerpong to break in the new beerpong table, and the new beerpong table was one that we had spent all day building. He had called me up a few days prior because he knew I'd taken a few woodshop classes in highschool and assumed that building boxes, toy cars, and paper towel holders meant I knew the ins and outs of building just about any wooden item. Of course, I didn't bother correcting him since I enjoyed the adulation and the thought of being useful. After all, it's just a fucking table, how hard could it be? I mean there's no reason I would even need to look up a guide on the internet, it's just a flat piece of wood with legs, right? So we drove down to the hardware store, but stopped along the way at the 99 cent store because I have a massive hardon for good deals. I wound up finding and buying a $0.99 swiss army knife before we'd even arrived at the actual hardware store and almost shit my pants at the value of such a useful tool for such a cheap price. Once inside the hardware store we shuffled around the store aimlessly for over two hours in total disarray, but in the end we wound up with: a 1/2"x4'x8' piece of plywood, a can of wood varnish, a large brush, a blowtorch, some screws, aluminium foil and this set of folding metal legs (I had been set on getting some wooden legs, but he liked the foldability and he had to live with the table so it was his choice) We were all excited to have all the materials together and to actually get to work, when we realized that there was one serious flaw in our plan. Namely, the plywood was far larger than the capacity of my friend's Camry to fit. We were seriously stumped for a while as to how the hell to get the board home when a passerby recognized our predicament and made the starkly obvious suggestion of tying the board to the roof. So I ran back to the store, grabbed a bunch of the free nylon rope they provide for just such a purpose, ran back, and haphazardly wrapped the rope over the front, back, and sides of the board and through the front and back windows of the car. Despite the fact that my friend had the nylon rope tugging at the back of his head while he drove, he and I were both elated to be on our way to one kickass beerpong table. Sadly this elation only lasted as far as the turn from the parking lot to the main road where our speed picked up and the stronger wind started to lift the board from the roof of the car. Both of us panicked in a moment of "Oh shit!" and we each reached out of our respective windows and grabbed the board with one hand to keep it on the roof. I shouted over the wind for him to "Slow the fuck down!" and he brought down his blinding pace from 35 mph to 25 mph. We crawled through the 50 mph roads at less than half the speed limit as cars zoomed past us, honking in fury like battle-crazed ducks. Our adrenaline was rushing as every passing car, every curve in the road, and every slight change in speed and direction seemed to be pulling the board off the roof. The drive that had taken us not even 5 minutes on the highway took us almost 20 minutes in this manner on surface streets. Eventually we got back to his place. Work was finally going to start, finally we were done with all the stupid prep. And then I realized that we didn't have a drill with which to drill pilot holes. Fuck. Hell, we didn't even have any nails or a hammer to do it that way either. So I sent my friend back to the store to rent a drill, and I set about carefully positioning the folding metal legs directly on the plywood and drawing where the holes would need to be drilled in order for the screws to hold the legs in place. Soon my friend was back, and he brought the drill. I drilled each of the screwing sites with the smallest drill bit, put the folding legs in place, and then grabbed some screws. It was at this point I realized that we didn't have a screwdriver, but I also realized that the $0.99 pocket knife I had bought had a phillips head attachment, so all was well. I pulled out the screwdriver tool on my pocket knife, set up a screw in one of the pilot holes, put the pocket knife screwdriver into the screw, started screwing, and stripped the fuck out of it. Not the screw, the screwdriver. My screwdriver fucking broke the first time I ever attempted to use it to screw. Fucking cheap piece of shit. (On a related note, months later I attempted to open a bottle of wine with the corkscrew attatchment on that same pocket knife, and after much struggle and yanking I realized that far from budging the cork I had basically turned the corkscrew into a long straight rod. Fucking A) Eventually I realized that the only part of that cheap piece of crap worth a damn was the knife itself, which was actually strong enough to withstand the rigors of screwing. That's right, I used the blade of my knife as a screwdriver out of necessity. Anyway, eventually all the screws are screwed, and the metal folding legs are directly attached to the plywood board. We're shitting our pants in excitement, this thing actually looks like a table! All that's left is to flip it over and start work on the table surface, so each of us grabs an end, flips the table over, and bam, the legs tear themselves out of the plywood. FUCKING FUCK. You see, the plywood was only 1/2" thick, and rather than thinking "Oh, well that affords barely any wood for the screws to hold on to, maybe we should brace it somehow or glue on some planks of wood at the screw sites to give firmer attachment to the screws" we thought "Well, I guess we just need to get smaller screws to fit into such a thin piece of plywood. 1/4" should do the trick!" Needless to say, the rest of the construction was plagued with the legs ripping themselves out any time anyone put any weight on the table, attempted to flip the table, or attempted to fold the legs. This table was a suicidally self-mutilating trainwreck, and yet each time the legs ripped out we would dutifully reattach them slightly off center so the new screwings would hit fresh, unmutilated plywood. It was at the point of flipping over, and completing the structural integrity portion of the construction, that we moved on to far more important matters, namely cosmetic matters of the table. My friend had wanted to paint the table so that it had permanent markings for the aiding in the nonfunctionally-drunk beerpong experience, in other words a triangle outline for where the cups go and racing stripes along the sides because racing stripes make the table go faster. I, however, expressed my true belief in the awesomeness of burning wood in the stead of another type of finish. He immediately saw the light, and agreed that we should set the table on fire. Although obviously we couldn't just use masking tape like for the painting, since the masking tape was flammable and wouldn't prevent the torch from burning underneath it. Eventually after much pondering and consideration the guy who worked the rental counter at the hardware store suggested we just use aluminium foil. Of course! Genius! And so that is what we did. Unfortunately, there were several problems that came up. The prime problem was that even though the foil successfully blocked the torch from directly burning the wood where we didn't want it to burn, the blowtorch was so hot that it caused the foil to melt and deform, which caused the straight-edge lines to become wavy and approximate-at-best. The other problem was simply the fact that the torch flame was so small and concentrated while the total surface area to be burned was immense. Spend too long on a spot and you got a black scorch mark, but spend too little time and you don't get the enhanced contrast of mild toasting. It took over 6 hours of incredibly painfully slow burning to get the whole table top done with such a tiny flame, and there were dozens of spots where I accidentally scorched a black mark into the wood through carelessness and impatience. In the end the whole thing took a massive amount of effort, but wound up looking like complete shit anyway. We played beerpong on it anyway and got blasted, but the table took up the whole of my friend's living room and when we tried to put it outside to varnish the whole thing the legs tore themselves out again for the eighth time and we just fucking abandoned it. God fucking dammit, what an abortion of a project. And there was this Mexican gardener who took great delight in laughing at our stupidity throughout the whole fiasco, although he didn't have too many reservations about asking to try the torch out and putting four black scorch marks into the wood while "helping" us burn it. Also I sort of lost the impression of competence my friend assumed I had. Fucking fuck. On the plus side the Simpsons Movie was exponentially funnier while smashed.