Life Under Trees: Competition: May Induce Vomiting

There is something so enchanting about watching males in their natural mental habitat: competition. I love tracking the progression of a competition. It begins as back and forth banter then quickly escalates to the degradation of one's character. Before you know it, the alphas are knee deep in water, worms, or in my friend's case, chicken nuggets. It began innocently enough after a two hour dinner at the dinning commons. Our bellies were full and so was our boredom level. There is never anything to do in the small town we temporarily call home and we rattled off anything that came to mind:

Dave: "Let's drive to Boston...or New York!"

Lindsey: "We wouldn't even get there until 9pm."

Ryan: "Yea, and go to a strip club!"

Me: "Absolutely not."

I am constantly reminded of the downfalls of always hanging around with guys, but I still love them. While their bodily functions and gross-out behavior is frequent, I just generally prefer to hang out with guys. This has changed from high school to college. In high school, I hung out with the group of girls who self-identified as the the "Lip gloss girls." I think they all prided themselves on the amount of sheen and sparkling patina on their lips. Their super power would be that they could blind any other girl with just the right amount of sunlight. The drama was always high in this group, and triangles of hate were often created-- picking one girl at a time to isolate from the group because of something that was heard about someone else, that was of course said behind the back of someone else. Though I "hung out" with this group of girls, I was really nothing like any of them. When I met my close circle of guy friends at college, I knew we were a good fit. We all shared the same sense of humor, for the most part, and drama was something we made fun of, not participated in.

Throughout the night, the guys continued throwing out other ideas that I shot down very quickly, especially when they involved breaking things. Just as the room fell silent, four syllables rang out. Fifty-nug- chug. I quickly found out that this was a competition as the "you wont do it"s began to ring out in a school girl chime. [While some would view this back and forth banter as drama fueled, it is important to note that "boy drama" is not something that is dueled upon. No one ever carries a grudge because the loss of a contest].The boys bought the nuggets and returned to the tv lounge where it all had began. They both started slow with the occasional vomit-stricken panic face every couple nugs, but were finished in about 20 minutes. Neither boy had much competitive nature left in him as Dave retreated to a large, dark room with the windows open to let in the brisk October air. He didn't even bother to turn on the lights... he was too busy hugging a trash bin. Luckily (or unluckily) he didn't throw up. Ryan on the other hand ceased the opportunity as soon as he choked the fiftieth down as he got up and proceeded to the bathroom. Our other male crony friends who did not participate in the "contest" followed him to the bathroom. When they returned, approximately 10 minutes later, an unfortunate discussion began to form.

Ryan: slightly laughing and still looking a bit sick. Ughhh

Kent: Gurrgle gurrgle ahahaha. I can't believe the noises you were making!

Dustin: Yea man, and it smelled like hot fresh chicken nugs!

George: And the colors man, ohhhh.

Me: YOU WATCHED HIM!?!?

I don't understand guys. Even the grossest bodily function turns into a show-and-tell spectacle. While Ryan was feeling rejuvenated, Dave was still feeling sicker than ever but still kept the nugs down...the real winner of the challenge. However, the next day his regrets began to mount as he could feel odd fat deposits in his knees. We also thought about the unhealthy amount of sodium and saturated fats in what he had consumed. This is not to say he learned his lesson though, as the next weekend the boys and I had a Taco Bell and KFC big bucket run. Competition has no boundaries and it seems that it really doesn't matter whether you win or lose, it's how aesthetically pleasing the vomit is.

I can't recall a time when I felt obliged to participate in one of these competitions. I know this is mostly because my judgement has never failed me and I have a good feeling that my stomach is thankful for this life decision.