How To Be An Indian And Create Drunk Ruckus

The Recipe For Drunk Disaster:

Ingredients:

1 rich snob ready to spend for everyone’s daru, 3 or more of your best friends who are bullies like you are, one sexy lap dancer (or even a *good rack/good ass might do) *do note that even one of the above listed will do, a good house music play-list, a friend’s gujju community building where you could annoy the fuck outta everyone by cooking chicken, playing loud music at afternoon and reek of whiskey and beer and hookah from the very front door, one asshole who never drinks or poops or even pukes in peace, for the sake of tweeting/blogging about it.

Step 1. Visit this place

Method:

First, deprive a Beer thirsty person from starting early because others haven’t reached yet.


After others come, make sure you send them away to buy chakna so you could make a pass at the object of your drunk, fuzzy affection. Start by playing Flo.Rida’s Whistle Song to set the environment budding and give a totally confused signal by sitting at the very other end of the couch, talking about how you love helping stray dogs and yada yada (YOU MIGHT AS WELL TALK ABOUT SATYAMEV JAYATE INSTEAD OF TAKING A PASS).


Do note that, there HAS to be one vegetarian in the group who vows to never indulge in non-veg, ever. After 50985 jokes about that person, make the ones you sent away for the sake of your carnal pleasure bring Dhokla as chakna for the veggie. Make sure you hide your overly jingoistic baseball bat which you never use, so that the veggie doesn’t ruin your possibility of carnal pleasures that very minute.


After a mandatory drunk joke has been passed about how the one with braces couldn’t

Spartan Metalhead Bhenchod!

French Kiss, make sure you call a pseudo-guitarist you know. This guitar will help you when everyone including the guitarist has passed out and you need a new FB DP because you are desperate to add the hot metal chick/dude you met at a gig that you are in actual, a crazy metal head when infact your iPod is filled with Backstreet Boys and face it, you are desperate.


After the others have brought chakna, make sure you warm up and dance a little so one of them ends up giving lap dance* to the other and . *No gender required, because you’re drunk and you’re young (HAHAHAHAHA NO SHIT SHERLOCK YOU JUST SUCK) and because love and sex, both, have no gender. And because you’re drunk.


After you collectively ready your hookah, teach the newbie in the group how to not give away cigarette-length smoke. After you realize the newbie is never going to learn, send him to get farsan from the next door fatty perverted aunty who doesn’t like to be called aunty because you have eaten up and puked all the chakna that was bought.


Serve:

With garnishing of the sound of someone throwing up in the bathroom, 2 others passed out, one drunk dialing his/her ex, one sexually desperate retard making out with the already asleep fellow, one pretentious asshole who HAS to take a snap of everyone’s fucked-up-ness and upload on FB through Instagram and the one who is #ForeverAlone enough to text his/her mom to come pick him/her up because they’re too sloshed to go home.





P.S. No vegetarian was harmed in the making and writing of this article.

P.P.S. Never try the Hookah-Lays-Beer-Whiskey-Repeat combination ever. Like ever.

P.P.P.S. NEVER VISIT AN ATM WHEN YOU ARE DRUNK.

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