#BoozeWeek rolls into the weekend with just the thing you need to erase the memories of Derek Mason's painful press conferences. A tried-and-true, AoG-guaranteed, old fashioned power hour.
Not familiar with the power hour? It's a shot of beer, taken every minute, for 60 minutes. The songs are here to tell you when to drink. A program like iPowerHour or lovely Carnegie Mellon graduate Ali Spagnola can be very helpful in this endeavor as well.
Not familiar with the AoG writing staff? We're 90% lush. Here are your beer songs, drinky.
Andrew VU ‘04's 12 songs for the Power Hour:
Let's start it off with some optimism, but confusing, irrational optimism that would result in the most disturbing het-wetting of the year: "It's Raining Men" by The Weathergirls. In this, a one hit wonder who named their band knowing they'd be a gimmick surrounding meteorological men-taphors imagines a day when frighteningly in shape, speedo-clad professional dancers rain down from the heavens, answering their Monkey's Paw-esque wish for male attention.
Women of the 80s (and still, really) have impossibly horrible gay-dar, so, for 4 minutes and 55 seconds, their dreams were answered. Subsequent songs, like "It's Hailing Men (There's Massive Car Damage)" and "I've Got a Tropical Depression" resonated less with the unwed, obese ladies of the 80s, and only one of them became a popular gay anthem years later ("He's Got That Barometric Pressure"). Still, Mother Nature is a single woman, too. If you think I've lost control of this controlling metaphor, you're absolutely correct, but it was one of my most used "walking to the plate" songs in high school, and it always confused the hell out of opposing pitchers. I got hit a lot, but on base is on base, motherfuckers. Sweet sassy molassy, I'm getting fired up! DRINK.
Up next, a plea for reason and cleanliness, as we attempt to scrub off the shame of the first half of this season: "If You Must" by Del Tha Funkee Homosapien. It's important to practice good hygiene... at least if you want to run with my team. DRINK.
As we're being pounded into a jelly, it's important to take inventory of the rest of our lives. Let's be honest - we went to Vandy. Life might not be perfect, but it's been good so far. Cue up Joe Walsh's sloppy, perspective laden anthem: "Life's Been Good." DRINK.
Speaking of jellies... here's Green Jelly with "Three Little Pigs." DRINK.
This one needs no context. It goes out to Darrius Sims, aka The Baddest of Them All. Froggy Fresh, nee Krispy Kreme, with "The Baddest." DRINK.
Fuck it, we're half-passed drunk and it's high time for some swagger. For that, I turn to the 1985 Chicago Bears, who were so cock-sure, they put out an impossibly boastful song that told the whole league they were going to be shuffling right along to a title, and there wasn't a damned thing they could do about it. For charity. For. Charity. Actually, that song doesn't hold up in 2014. Football's taken a decidedly darker turn of late... and it's probably a good idea to make them all watch Zoltarkill's "The Sex Offender Shuffle." DRINK.
That last one was bad. Fuck it. No apologies. Let me see ‘em. This team's killing me. I'm dru-u-u-u-unker than ever... here's Wallpaper with "Hesher." DRINK.
Anyone else want to go on a fucking rampage? Possibly to contemporary electro-hipster-funk? No? Well, fuck you. I'm putting on my Big Data Shoes. Mind your head. It's clobbering time. "Dangerous." DRINK.
2014 has been a good year for conspiracy theories surrounding this damned football team. Shut up... shut up. I'm drunk, and you're going to hear about them! The Ol' Bald Poach knew this team would be a steaming pile and jumped ship before his coaching reputation got dinged. Karl Dorrell has compromising pictures of Derek Mason from college, and his wife (college roommates with Mason's wife) wasn't afraid to pull that card as soon as Mason was hired. Johnny McCrary never existed, and was a computer-generated amalgam of amazing Youtube highlights of dual-threat QBs. It's all a lie, man, and Bilderberg doesn't want you to know it! Here's Weird Al with "Aluminum Foil." DRINK.
This season, man. I just... I just can't even. Don't push me, ‘cause I'm close to the edge. I'm trying not to lose my head. UH-HA-HA-HA! Here's Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five with "The Message." DRINK.
Real talk: My mom worked with the woman who wrote "Up With People." As a child, I met her after the show. I was... miserable. She tousled my hair and asked, "Are you up with people?" I said, "I'm more down with OPP." I was grounded for a month. Regardless, this season has made it tough to get up for Vandy games, and has left the bulk of us looking for good match-ups and entertaining football elsewhere. The lady friend is a Sooners grad, and living in OKC, I'm trying to blend in with the sea of Boomers. Don't blame me. I'm naughty by nature; not ‘cause I hate you. I'll get no enjoyment out of it, save for occasional fun of getting down with an OP's P. Confused? O is for "Other," P is for "People." The other P? That's not so simple. Here's Naughty By Nature with "O.P.P." DRINK.
That's it, I'm about to run out of beer. Fuck it, we've been drinking irresponsibly all season (and not without reason). We might as well learn how to deal with it when our womenfolk complain about our liquored-up surliness. I can think of nothing better to answer that call than with an irresponsible amount of liquored-up surliness. Here's Bondo with "Fuck You I'm Drunk." FINISH THE DAMNED BOTTLE.
Christian D'Andrea's 12 songs for the Power Hour:
I love America. And part of loving America is loving power hours. Can't/don't drink liquor? Don't worry, we've made considerations for you. Here's a gallon of 2% milk. I'd like to think of it as an insurance policy that lines up our vomiting later in the evening.
Andrew's songs certainly took a turn towards the end there, didn't they? Let's bring it up with something inspiring. An ode to the Common Man:
More man songs? More man songs:
Like Ziggy Sobotka before him, Gaston was a tragic figure whose story is misunderstood by the masses. Now we celebrate this paragon of manliness in song.
You know who else is misunderstood? Canada, with their ice sports and high gravity ales and socialism. Am I using that last word right? That's what it means when you're super friendly and social, right?
Pretty inspirational. But if you want to get fired up - and I mean REALLY fired up, like, single-handedly-end-the-Cold-War fired up, then:
And since we're drinking, let's go back to the song that Rhapsody tells me I listened to eight times over the course of one beer-filled trip to Milwaukee two weeks ago:
Yeah, I don't know how that happened either. My usual get-drunk, annoy everyone on repeat song is this:
Hands up if you've been punched by a Secret Service agent to that song. No? Just me? Well, this is awkward, let's clear the air a bit with a trusty college pregaming hit:
That's better, but you know what? That optimism only gets you so far, though. Nothing goes better with drinking than anger and depression. I think we're all on agreement on that after Vandy's 2-5 start. Let's just embrace it.
Because there's nowhere to go but up when you've only beaten UMass and Charleston Southern, and those wins came by a combined four points. Bonus: Billy Preston, you were a magnificent looking human.
Well, we can always leave on a high note. It's a bad year, but we're still here. And we're not going anywhere. There's science to do.
VandyImport's 12 Songs For The Power Hour
Let's be honest: we're Vanderbilt, we're in Nashville, and there's only one way to kick this off:
That would normally do for quite some time, but I guess we need to think about who we really are, and hell if we brought out Ludacris for homecoming then we can go 90s so here's a fact about Vanderbilt:
Shit. I botched that one. Let's try again.
Dammit, where's my bottle of Pappy? Okay, look, you knew this was coming, so just shut up and sing along. No, shut up until it's time to sing along, then shut up again. No, sing when it's TIME to sing along...son of a...
You know, let's be honest, we should be singing THIS, not Wagon Wheel...this may as well be the replacement for Dynamite this season...
I'm on a roll. Let's play a tribute to our fellow institutions of higher learning and those warrior-scholars throughout the rest of the SEC.
Dammit, now I'm going full on surly drunk. Here you go, SEC, you sons of bitches.
Now I'm just staggering around swinging randomly at stuff. Well it's the TV's own goddamn fault for being in front of me and showing Kentucky moving the ball at will. I HATE YOU LORENZEN, PILLSBURY THROWBOY ASS LOOKING HE ATE ME FOOD WORLD ASS LUNCHBOX. WHAT?
Okay. Okay. Hold it together. Maintain. Four more. You can do this. The DVR is not trying to hurt you. You know what you need? Peaceful. Soothing. Something that sounds like twenty mills of hydrocodone washed down with a syrupy mint julep. Something like Ol' Blue Eyes.
There! Damn, I feel good. It's time for the song that OUGHT to be our team's music for running out of the tunnel. HIT IT SHANE-O!
There now! Let's bring it home strong. First, somebody get to work on doctoring these lyrics to reflect the name of this institution and let's get the student section singing THIS over and over in the time outs...
YEAH!!! YEAH!!!!! WE ARE INDOMITABLE!!!! WE ARE UNMOVABLE!!!! WE ARE GOING TO LODGE IN YOUR FUCKING COLON LIKE A WAD OF BUBBLE GUM DIGESTING FOR SEVEN YEARS!! YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO BE RID OF US!!!!! BUILT TO LAST, HERE TO STAY, ANCHOR DOWN MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!!!
(violently throws up spleen, passes out)
Dinard'oh's drunk again
*Feel free to ignore any and all of the following. I drink to the beat of a different drum.
All things AoG begin with a Simpson's reference. So let me start at the start and take it away...
All's well at the start of the hour, when all we want are songs about drinking. "Party like it's my birthday, drinking and still thirsty!" Sounds about right. Besides, who knows more about drinking away misery than folks in Baltimore?
Somebody is talking trash in the comments again? Just the booze talking. Watch this and take heart that, even after a few choice beverages, you have better rhythm than fully half of the studio audience.
Admit it. You were digging that accordion line. It's cool. Don't worry, you aren't seeing double, it's just a man on an accordion playing with himself. Er, alongside himself that is.
Once more into the breech, but this time we're going full gypsy. There is no shame in singing along, even if you don't know the words. Just yell "start wearing purple!" If you say it enough, it makes perfect sense. If not, double your portions. This is a track meet, not a marathon.
Multilingual nonsense songs that we can sing along with? Strange images of an Italian woman acting like an Indian? Maybe we should have reconsidered doing the power hour with absinthe.
Annnnnddd... you just texted your ex, "I'M AN AMERICAN POTATO!" And she texted back, "Who is this?" That fire in your belly is anger and malt liquor, and the the only solution is to stoke the flames. Go hard, son, and get back in the game!
Drinking leads to singing, and you still have a story to tell. Let them know who they're messing with.
Rock and roll! Whoooo! (can't even remember why I was angry) Bet I can nail this falsetto!
Voice is broken. Drunk as hell. Need food.
That was a terrible idea. Speaking of terrible ideas, let's mix vicodin, cherry coke, and guns! We're taking this train completely off the rails now.
Achievement unlocked: turbodrunj! There's only one way this can end. Ok, there are a lot of ways, but not many that don't involve jail.
VTPhD Was Reminded to Enter His Choices At 00:30 in the Morning..
WOOOO IT’S SATURDAY MORNING, August 28th. VANDY FOOTBALL IS BACK. The black & gold may not win nine this year, but we’re gonna prove to everyone that we’re not just some one-hit wonder. We’re building a legacy, baby! I was so psyched for this season. I had what I thought was well measured optimism and excitement.
...then Temple happened...
..and I got very depressed...
...then Carolina happened. Maybe we just had a bad start??
...oh nevermind. Your football team is having technical difficulties. Please stand by. We appreciate your patience.
This is a rebuilding year to be sure. We got to keep a good humor about the whole thing, really. The only other option is to plunge into a deep despair. Trust me, I've been a Jets fan for 30 years, you don't want that. Say what you will about Vandy's recent successes, at least we no longer have James "Harold Hill" Franklin sullying our doors...
I still would like to believe that we'll find our brave new world of good footbaw... someday.
I'm all out of narrative here, moonshine does its work fast and it does it well. It helps to not be bothered with this pesky thing y'all call "a glass"
Honestly y'all, we can be critical, we can be upset, but let's just remember, as much as we love this team, there's more important things than footbaw. It's the experiences we have with friends and family around footbaw that really matter.
This got far more sentimental and stupid than I intended. This is really flying by seat of the pants technology y'all. Enjoy the ride. What better way than to stop reading the internet for a damned moment and hang out with friends?
Honestly, football is over for me, but at least hockey season is starting...
...the Devils have no answer for a post-Brodeur world? Well, I guess I just have no hope of sports being fun for me anytime soon.