Dear sober me,
I love toast.
Love,
Drunk me :)
#lastdayofclassesbeforefinals
So tonight I learned that I am officially too old for frat parties. I mean, I stood there, and every other female was a freshman. I’ve never felt so old. Usually in any given room that I’m drinking in, I’m the only one underage. So I’m not used to it. But tonight I finally fulfilled my motherly obligation, my promise to go out with my baby, and I convinced my roommate and we went fratting with our babies. And it was just so many freshmen. We wanted to run around with large bolts of fabric and safety pins and teach them not to be whores. And then build a celebratory tower of adult diapers, or dentures or something and make it home in time for bed.
And that is the story of how Room 23 decided to never frat again.
Secret Glovers: Reppin’ That Shit
Side-rant: Grad students shouldn’t be allowed to play IM. They just shouldn’t. Bitches.
The wristband system: teaching you who NOT to hook up with since 2012.
Freshmen who don’t know how to tally their drinks #DilloWoes
for some reason leaning closer to the screen does not make my thoughts more coherent.
WHERE MY ENGINEERS AT FIX THIS SHIT BITCHEZ.
How work went today:
Hour 1: “well, this is nice”
Hour 2: “Symposium binders… that’s fine”
Hour 3: “I wish we’d checked in uniforms 5 months ago…”
Hour 4: “I CAN SCAN ALL Y’ALL EVEN IF YOU DON’T HAVE BAR CODES MUA HA HA”
Hour 5: “I’m becoming a bitch and I actually can’t stop it”
Hour 6: “I DON’T CARE IF IT’S STUPID I HATE HANGING THESE FREAKIN’ PANTS”
"Better than pole dancing? This I’ve got to see."
You know you trust too much when you’re getting one group of frat guys to move your storage into another frat’s basement.
