According to our very unscientific studies — and by scientific studies, we mean the ability to talk smack for hours on end — for every two drinks a person consumes, their intelligence quotient drops by 10 points.
As a result, let’s say a man with an IQ of 110 (high average intelligence) downs two Jäger shots, four beers, and an Irish Car Bomb (counts as two), and finally an appletini (three drinks). That poor feeble-minded bloke is now functioning at an IQ level of 60, way below average, which of course explains why the guy ordered an appletini. Making matters worse, alcohol has a way of convincing folks they are somehow smarter than they were before they started imbibing.
Thus, the most important aspect to outsmarting the asshole who is getting all in your grill is to remember that upstairs, you’ve got the upper hand. Here are a few suggestions and ideas for your next run-in with a shit-faced Jean-Claude Van Damme wannabe.
Ordering Them a Double Shot Doesn’t matter what it is, but the more expensive the better. And have the bartender put it on their tab. Get yourself another beer while you’re at it. Order them another and let them pass out and be somebody else’s problem.
Be Friendly Ask them if they’ve been to the bar next door where they’re giving away free beer tonight.
Confuse Them Choose a random phrase and repeat it after everything they say. For example, if they say, “Yous owes me a beers,” you say, “Between the sheets?” If they then say, “You lil’ fucker,” you once again say, “Between the sheets?” And don’t be afraid of “a sphincter says what?”
Penn and Teller Him about Your Secret Power Nothing confuses a drunk like when you pull a coin out of his ear or take the nose right off his face.
Become a Master of the Brazillian Art of Capoeira Or at least, act like you do. Rip off your shirt, turn the speaker on your iPhone way up, click on a Latin dance number, and try your best to channel Shawn Johnson during her floor exercise routine.
Plant a Wet One, Bugs Bunny-Style Consider this one the nuclear option. You’ll either get ’em all hot and bothered, or be forced to dodge a punch. Either way be ready to skedaddle. It’s duck season. It’s wabbit season. No, seriously, duck.
Jazz Hands Nobody fucks with the Fosse.