The Mods: Land of Myth and Legend

They're more magical than Candy Land, Narnia, and Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory put together--they're the Mods at Boston College.

Think of a place where all go to discover themselves.  They travel there in hopes of finding adventure, booze, and hookups.

It's kind of like Neverland Ranch:  children flock--especially in good weather.

Here's a population density map of the campus on a relatively balmy, weekend evening:

As you can see, a lightly packed portion of timid freshman remain around Upper Campus, opting to hide their assorted illicit activities. A higher concentration of overly-studious, need-to-have-gotten-straight-A's-to-ever-save-the-world folk endeavor to better themselves academically in O'Neil Library (seriously?).

But the epicenter of activity is at the Mods, where, whenever physically possible, a perfect storm of batshit craziness is brewing.

There be witch's brew there.

It probably doesn't help that the Mods are nigh impossible to navigate in the day, sober--let alone at night feeling like someone just spun you around before trying to break open a piñata. It's a maze in there without the corn or pumpkins.

You'd like to think that the Mods would function like any other neighborhood in the universe, and that the numbers might help you reach your destination.

Wrong.

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore. Because things make sense in Kansas.

The Mods are just a scary place to be. And they get even scarier when you actually go inside one.

The parties are an...interesting experience to say the least.

That is, if you count a shambling, pale, sweaty crowd of zombies, on the brink of showing everyone what they ate for dinner, sloppily grinding up on one another, as interesting.

Just like that not-particularly-cute-but-still-not-entirely-grotesquely-hideous girl who keeps smiling at you from across the room, the Mods look a hell of a lot more appealing after a few (9+) drinks.

We at The Fitzy Grunbeck Chronicles offer you a unique, never before seen look into the drunken Mod party experience with our patented "Drunk-Gauging Goggles" with a built in "Dipshittery Meter."

TIP: If you're trying to get into a party with a troll-like bouncer, just say you know some guy with a really Irish name. He's probably in there.

Here's the party you're really at.

This is what you get when you Google "Sketchy Dance Party" 

Close quarters.
Loud.
Smelly.
Let's face it...no one there's all that hot. The closest one's that girl in the blue, but she's looking just a tinyyyyy bit out of it.

Let's slip on the goggles and give our test subject a few shots.

At first, everything is a little blurry.  You're just a bit buzzed, but still coherent.

How about another 3?

At this time, the things you see aren't registering as well and the Dipshittery Meter is starting to get into the danger zone. You should stop here, but the force of the Mods compels you to have a couple more.

You're falling over tables or passed out on the couch.  You've made out with several party-goers and broken at least three lamps.  Your focus is at negative 302.

It's like someone who didn't really know what they were doing on photoshop just played around with the lighting and contrast of everything around you.

Oh wait...

And then you push it just a little bit further.

Somehow you skillfully slipped past the red zone and wind up in a state we don't even have a legitimate color for, so I arbitrarily chose purple.

Even the Dipshittery Meter is giving you a "WTF?!" face.

But all you can think is:

"What a lovely and beautiful party!  Look how classy we are!"

At this point you're so gone that the Mods have become an enjoyable experience.  Everyone is beautiful and happy and absolutely the funniest person you've ever met.  Your sweat smells like peaches and love.

At the end of all this, you wind up with shenanigans like you wouldn't believe.

The general thoughts of those in the Mods are described below:

Damn bitch, then don't wear them next time. Christ.

You're still a stick figure, bro. Settle down.

...with just as little tact as you might expect.

Yeah, that green spot is exactly what you think it is.

Upon entering the Mods you will undoubtedly be faced with these scenarios and many others--all of which you need to go experience for yourself.  Just make sure that you can run in those high heels and that you are not so drunk that you end up falling and scraping her hands and knees to shit. Definitely don't try to race people. With your luck, you'll trip over one of the 1,000,000 beer cans and wind up in St. Elizabeth's for an entirely different reason than you intended.

If the Mods had a commercial, the end of it would sound something like this, with someone reading it in a brisk, yet very calming voice. Maybe Morgan Freeman. If you're lucky.

The Mods aren't for everyone. Ask your doctor if you experience lightheadedness, sore throat, stomach aches, nose bleeds, lost cell phone, lost condom, lost dignity, pink eye, or an erection lasting more than four hours. These may be signs of a rare, but serious side-effect called Hypermoronemia.


Do not drive or operate heavy machinery after any dosage of Mods.
Mods may cause dependency.


SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Mods increase your risk of cirrhosis of the liver. 

-K & D