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Golden Nuggets: Aaron Rodgers + Rod Benson + A TON of Alcohol: What Could Go Wrong?

Any story that ends with a shirtless Rod Benson stumbling home while muttering to himself has to be good.

David Banks

Rod Benson recently took us on a very entertaining trip down memory lane: the time Aaron Rodgers got him completely wasted.

I don’t even remember what day it was, but I knew it was shortly after the football season ended. The football team threw an “invite.” When I was in school, invites were parties that were held in San Francisco and all the patrons had to commute there via charter bus. You would generally need a “bid” to gain entry to the bus, and then from there you’d be good to go for the night. These invite parties were normally thrown by sororities because they weren’t allow to get down on their grounds, but today was a football one, so the hype level was pretty high. I was able to secure a bid, even though most parties thrown by men in college don’t extend invites to other dudes.

So Rod goes to the event and manages to spot Aaron Rodgers, who has made a couple new lady friends.

It’s here that the details get a bit murky, but I do remember Aaron questioning my lack of alcoholic beverage. How dare he? I could handle more than anyone in the history of things, I thought to myself. Not to mention, I couldn’t look like a bitch in front of the two ladies. He was actually trying to help me with one of them, I think, so I consented to more liquor. He left for a few minutes.

Aaron returned with two Long Islands. I grabbed one and prepared to toast him, but he shook his head.

“They’re both for you.”

Shit. But there are girls here, Rod. Drink it like a champion.

I’m pretty sure, to his laughter, I downed both of the drinks in a matter of minutes. I think he took this as a sign to keep em coming, which he did. He was drinking a lot, too, but it just wasn’t hitting him the same. I just kept thinking that I shouldn’t have had those pre-game shots at the Fiji house. Damn the Fiji house. Damn Aaron. Damn the girls who I wasn’t even coherent enough to speak to anymore. Guess I should get back on the bus, I thought as I dragged myself out, watching Aaron continue to go hard inside and make moves.

Rod managed to stumble back into the bus, where he was hanging out on the bathroom floor. He didn't have to throw up or anything, he was there on the floor. Later on...

“Get the F off the bus, we’re back in Berkeley!”


I stand up, and exit the bathroom to see an empty bus, same as when I boarded it. I step off and am freezing, because I have no shirt on and I don’t know where it when. I stumble home, muttering “Fuck Aaron. Coddamit. Shit.”

I don’t think even he knows the extent of the story. I bet he just thinks he drank with the homies. But for me, as I stumbled home shirtless down Channing Circle, the taste of long islands on my breath, I couldn’t say it enough. Fuck Aaron.

But I love you, bro.

I could read that again and again.


California: why



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