Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear...

And now, a story from the SharkFinHat vaults. The names have been changed to protect the guilty.

It was September, 1996. A young Jenny McCarthy was planning to leave Singled Out and conquer Hollywood. Joan Osborne was postulating what the situation would be if God was one of us. Mentos commercials were entering our collective consciousness.*

I was living in Athens and getting ready to attend the 21st birthday party for a good friend of mine. And attend we all did, ensuring that our friend got absolutely schnockered. Unfortunately, my idiot roommate decided he should get just as schnockered, which ended up with me sitting across from him at a table as he collapsed face down in his seat. I figured the night was pretty much at an end at this point, so I grabbed him by his arm and walked him a couple of blocks over to The Grill. I plopped him down on a bench and went to the payphone** to call a cab. I come back over, and he's completely passed out in some pine straw.

I sit him up and plead with him to get it together, as we were both 19 and therefore breaking several drinking laws. I finally get him to sit up. We're sitting there waiting when this guy comes and sits down beside us. Looks to be about our age, black guy, dressed more like a townie than a student. He introduces himself as Tony, as which point my roommate, let's call him Clark, shouts "Give me five, man!" Tony gives him five.

Then, Clark tells him "All I know is that black motherfuckers are cooler than white motherfuckers."

At this point, I run through all the things in my life I'll never get to do. I regret not asking out that cute redhead from English class.*** I'll never get to write the great American novel.

To his credit, Tony recognizes what a drunk dillhole Clark is being and says "Naw man, we're all the same." About this time, the cab pulls up and I throw Clark inside, say goodnight to Tony****, and we're on our way. Clark keeps trying to get the cab driver to give him five, at which point I slam my arm across Clark to keep him in the backseat. We finally get back to the apartment, where Clark stumbles into the bathroom. He falls out of the bathroom and across the hall a few minutes later, managing to break the door that covers our washer and dryer off its hinges. He had to fix it the next day, when he woke up and had no idea what happened.

What's the point of all this, you ask? Remember Clark's theory above, that black motherfuckers was cooler than white motherfuckers? Well, it turns out he was right. Please see below for proof.



*Years later, the parent company of my employer would own Mentos. DID I JUST BLOW YOUR MIND?

**Kids, ask your parents what a payphone was.

***I eventually did ask her out and we dated for a bit. Everything ended wretchedly.

****Many weeks later, we went to Krystal's at around 2 in the morning. Tony was working the register. I could tell he was trying not to laugh as soon as he saw us. I never said anything. I knew Clark didn't remember any of it.