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I’ll start by explaining a “Diaper Keg” party. The dad-to-be, or if he has awesome friends, his friends, purchase a keg and invite a ton of friends to come help drink it in exchange for a package of diapers. The first time I was invited to one, I thought, “This sounds way more fun than your ordinary baby shower, where everyone oohs and awws at scary baby paraphernalia and asks you when you’re going to settle down and pop out a couple.” Come to find out, that assumption was very, very correct. As we get older and have to participate in functions to celebrate our friends major life milestones, anything that makes these engagements more tolerable is much appreciated in my book, e.g. open-bar wedding receptions. When I look at my calendar of weekend events, at this age it’s rare to have a weekend that isn’t booked with engagement parties, wedding showers, weddings, baby showers, or some other showing off of how my friends’ lives are on a much more traditional track than mine. At some point very early into your 20s, you quit looking forward to these get-togethers. However, this one intrigued me, especially after I scrolled down the Facebook guest list to see a slew of my guy friend’s old fraternity brothers.
So the evening of “Diaper Keg” arrives. I walk into my friend’s suburban neighborhood home, add my diapers to the huge stack by the front door, then proceed to join everyone in the back yard. At first, this seemed like your average cook-out: grill going, dudes standing around talking about how life is going after college, throwing objects through holes in wooden boards (which is supposedly some kind of outside game that I never caught on to). My initial thought was that this evening would be relatively tame; these dudes had grown up. That was until after dinner, when the party headed to the garage where drinking games were to commence. Nothing makes the inner undergrad frat bro come out like a game of beer pong. These games became intense as everyone tried to show off that they had not, in fact, lost their mad drinking game skills. I started to realize that this might actually be my kind of party.
The next level occurred when the keg that had originally brought everyone together ran out. What else is there to do than hit up the well-stocked liquor cabinet that every postgrad should have, especially if you’re a soon-to-be-postgrad-dad. Everyone is boozing, taking shots, having a great time, and loving one another, that is until two of these gentlemen decide wrestling matches in the nicely decorated living room were a good idea. As some were trying to save valuable furniture items from demolishment to prevent the wrath of baby-mama when she returned the next day, this fight had escalated into a full-blown choking out of one another by these intoxicated two. Thankfully, this was broken up before anyone died right there on the living room floor, which I’m not sure was too far off.
One might think this night was over at this point. That would have been the smart idea, but you get 15 old college buddies together, combined with a few new faces, and “smart” is rarely what ensues. So, to the nearest bar everyone goes. I can sum up what happened from here with: the brother of the mom-to-be showed up the following morning in a cab, due his eight-hour stint in the county jail. Nothing will piss off a pregnant woman like a still-drunk husband who is also injured from falling out of the attic this particular evening with no one having any recollection of why he was even up there to begin with, a freshly released from jail brother, and a house that looks like a college keg party took place in it, which I suppose is pretty much what happened.
Moral of the story is: this new dad didn’t have to buy his kid diapers until it was 11 months old. From what I hear, that shit is expensive these days. Not to mention he got a college reunion, a badass party, and stories for days out of the deal. I enjoyed myself so much that I asked my pregnant best friend if I could throw her and her baby-daddy a diaper keg party. Apparently if you’re friends with the mom, the answer is “no,” because come to find out, pregnant women do not want to attend a diaper keg party they can’t fully participate in. However, if you’re a dude, throw your dad-to-be bro a diaper keg. Everyone needs one last rager before parties like these become a thing of the past.
This is probably a good read…but it’s sooo long. I’ll save it for when work gets overwhelming.
The game throwing “objects through wooden boards” is called corn hole, Yankee.
It should also be an Olympic sport.
Cornhole was invented, and is basically the regional pastime, in Cincinnati. Not the south.
The dad-to-be, or if he has awesome friends, his friends, purchase a keg and invite a ton of friends to come help drink it in exchange for a package of diapers.
I’m not normally one to complain about how things are written, but does this sentence hurt anyone else’s head?
The dad-to-be (or his friends if they’re awesome), purchases a keg and invites a ton of friends to come help drink it in exchange for a package of diapers.