The Annoying Co-Worker

When working in retail, we all have had to deal with that one annoying co-worker. You know who I’m talking about. As soon as you read the word ‘annoying’, their face came to mind. Your annoying co-worker will exhibit most, if not all, of the following behaviors:

  • He/she will act super busy and important whenever your supervisor is around, but as soon as it is just you and them, the true laziness begins to show. You: “Hey, I’m really busy trying to ring up, wrap, and bag this customer’s items,  can you take the next one?” Annoying co-worker: “OHHH nooo, nooo, nooo. I don’t want to make them walk a whole foot over to my register! You can take them when you’re finished.”
  • He/she will have some sort of terrible body odor and/or a flatulence problem.  If they don’t have either of these, then they will definitely eat only onion sandwiches on their breaks and come back reeking.
  • He/she will tell you the same stories about their trip to London or Fiji or Sesame Place over and over and over again. Even when you stop responding, he/she will steep keep blabbering. They are like the energizer bunny. Except a lot less cute, and a lot less well-liked.
  • He/she will stand behind you watching as you count your change, help a customer, vacuum the store, eat, breathe, and possibly even sleep.  Every time you turn around, there he/she is…just hovering…watching your every move. Even after you’ve told them plenty of times that their mere existence makes you uncomfortable, there they still remain.
  • He/she will laugh at their own jokes, none of which are actually funny. Sometimes you will laugh along at the sheer pitifulness of the joke. Also, he/she will have a very disturbing, dry-sounding, been-smoking-for-50-years laugh.
  • He/she will be condescending, especially if he/she had, in fact, been working there longer than you. He/she will pretend you don’t know how to do your job even after he/she made you take care of all of the customers as he/she just stood there hovering.
  • He/she will be exceedingly slow, probably on purpose, in order to transfer the entire line to your register’s side.
  • Whenever a customer asks a question, he/she will stand there silently staring blankly into the customer’s eyes until you come up to assist, even though he/she clearly knows the answer.
  • He/she will spend the entire shift either drawing weird anime onto receipt paper, or making personal telephone calls on the company’s phone. Whenever you pass by, you hear them throw in the company’s name in the conversation to make it act like it’s a business call, but you know it’s not. Not unless the business is wondering what time he/she will be home for dinner.

 

If no one came to mind as you were reading these, maybe you should take a hard look at yourself…

You may just be the annoying co-worker.

 

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Kaskade: A Man Who Truly Loves His Job (HQ Beachclub)

Alright. I tried not to do this. I tried to keep this blog general, relatable, humorous, inquisitive or whatever, and not full of reviews of specific events, but it’s now almost been a week and I feel the need to write about the wonder that was June 1.

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Last weekend Kaskade graced Atlantic City with his presence by playing at the Revel’s HQ nightclub on May 31, and then again at the new HQ Beachclub on June 1.

While I was unable to attend his nightclub set, I made sure to find myself a little spot on the dancefloor at the Beachclub to witness for the first time one of my favorite DJs do his thang.

And boy did he do it well.

Behind the DJ booth, Matt Goldman started the party at this Vegas-style club, complete with a pool, bars, views of the Atlantic Ocean, and VIP service if you so choose.

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From the beginning, you could tell that people were there to get down. Dancing was already occurring in the shallow end of the (what I can only assume to be) heated pool, drinks were being served…and spilled… and the music was only getting louder.

As time passed, I soon found my way to my desired spot for the afternoon: right near the front. Usually at shows I stand off to the side or near the back. But not for Kaskade.

As 3 pm approached, you could sense the anticipation in the crowd. We were ready for some Summer Lovin’.

Kaskade began his memorable set with a tease, playing the song Atmosphere before its actual release. Finally seeing Kaskade behind that booth after waiting hours in the hot sun mixed with hearing an amazing new song live made the crowd go wild.

I briefly glanced around behind me to see everyone singing along to the moving lyrics, jumping out of excitement, and smiling widely. There was not a still nor silent person in that crowd.

Kaskade moved along his set by playing some crowd favorites (and/or mash-ups) such as Eyes, Lessons in Love, Turn it Down, Last Chance, 4 a.m.,  and Room for Happiness.

While I was hoping and somewhat expecting to hear some of these songs, what really made the crowd ecstatic was his insertion of multiple genres, including some (but not too much) trap.

Kaskade even incorporated a mix of Zedd’s hit tune Clarity (although playing such an, in my opinion, over-played song shocked me a bit, but I suppose he was trying to appease all members of the crowd by playing something they know.)

Whenever the crowd was starting to slow down or lose energy, Kaskade would change it up in order to bring us right back to our dancing feet! Signs of a great DJ!

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What impressed me the most about Kaskade’s performance was how much you could truly tell he enjoys his job. Not only was he into his music, but he was dancing around, jumping up and down, smiling, interacting with the audience (I swear we shared a moment during Turn it Down), and singing along.

Knowing he enjoyed what he was doing made it that much more enjoyable for us, the crowd.

He even ReTweeted my compliment about it later that night.

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One of the most memorable moments was during No One Knows Who We Are, when everyone’s hands were high to the sky and voices were singing loudly along with the words, including, of course, Kaskade.

There was such a sense of camaraderie and unison among the crowd at that time and space. We were one, living in that moment, brought together by Kaskade’s music. “We are right now”.

As time passed way too quickly, Kaskade left us with the statement, “I think I convinced these guys to let me come back”, and I tell ya, Kaskade, I sure hope you do.

This may have been my first time seeing him, but it will definitely not be my last.

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*Pictures from instagram : @dtam09

*Follow me on Twitter: @Dat_assh

People Watching in Atlantic City

This past weekend I trekked on down to the wonderful party city of Atlantic to see  Kaskade at the new HQ Beachclub at Revel (I’d highly recommend this Vegas-style club).

While I don’t gamble (ain’t no body got monies fo’ dat), I had a fabulous time exploring the beach, casinos, bars, and nightlife along the boardwalk, and of course meeting new people… aka people-watching the AC visitors.

Here is a list of the types of people I hope you are fortunate enough to meet, run into, have a conversation with, or simply watch while in Atlantic City.

1. The stoned older couple on the beach. I’m not speaking like, OLD-old, but  they were old enough. This couple will be super friendly, ask where you are from, tell you about themselves, and throw in a few recent stories of partying.

They might compliment your home city, “You girls from Philly? I can tell by your personalities. Women tend to be more alpha in Philly. We love Philly.”  Thanks sir!

Or even give you some pointers on where to spend your evening.

And then the stories about cannabis will erupt without warning. “Yeah man, this guy came up and was like yo… is that weed? And I was like shut up man, take a hit, but shut up.”

Oh.

And then the police will drive by along the beach on their little 4-wheeler thing and for a split second you will pretend to not be associated with them in any way. “Ah man, that was close. I have an open beer and a joint in my hand”…he says….

Oh.

Needless to say, these people will be entertaining to talk to and you will probably thoroughly enjoy learning about their lives.

He will probably travel a lot, specifically to Miami, but his girlfriend-wife-lady-friend has to stay home because she works a ‘real job’…

uh, what do you do sir?

Don’t ask questions. 

So, if you ever have the chance to spark up a conversation with a baked couple in their, say, early 40s on the beach- DO IT. It will at least keep you entertained and keep your mind off of the chilling sea-breeze for a few minutes. You might even get invited to meet them by the slot machines later. Too bad you don’t gamble.

2. Older foreigners. These foreigners will be wearing full garb, including long jeans, argyle sweaters, suit jackets, boots, hats, etc…in June….

They will have various different cameras and each stand independently in front of the ocean, one-by-one, in order to have a photograph taken of them.

Although there will be about 7 or 8 of them, they will not take any group photos. They will all stare at the model and smile from behind as one of them takes the photograph, and then they will switch positions.

Although you will probably not interact with this group at all, this is a prime opportunity to people-watch from the comfort of your own tanning location as you take selfies with your group. (…We all have our different photographing preferences)

3. Grampa. Grampa looks innocent enough. But then you realize it’s 11 p.m. at a beach bar on the boardwalk and he is sitting alone, smiling, sipping some drink with a paper umbrella in it. The DJ is playing some crappy LMFAO song and Grampa starts bobbing his head along. Whatever, he’s Grampa, what’s he gonna do?

You and your friends head to the dance floor whenever the terrible LMFAO song is done being played and you begin to go crazy, dancing, singing along, jumping about. You look over and Grampa has moved. He is now at the closest table to the dance floor, still smiling, nodding his head along with the music, and sipping his drink. But this time his innocence has turned into a sly smirk. He is glaring into your soul, or perhaps at your chest, you’re not really sure.

You ignore it and continue dancing, but every time you glance over, there he is…staring…watching your every move…

You are not sure whether you should think “Aww cute little Grampa over there, just trying to have a good time”, or “WHAT THE HECK, MAN? YOU’RE CREEPING ME OUT. GO PLAY BINGO!”

Eventually you realize you should feel creeped out and leave Grampa to creep on the other twenty-somethings in the crowd.

Oh wait, there weren’t any…

This should have been your sign in the first place.

4. The Bachelor Party. It’s Atlantic City- You are BOUND to come across at least ONE bachelor party during your stay. If you’re a girl- hang out with them. There has to be at least a few single guys in the group who are wiling to buy you some cheap beers. And, well, even the taken guys will probably be buying you drinks. I mean- their women aren’t with them.

**This is really the only advantage of hanging out with a bachelor party. I mean, they have their plans already. You just happen to be there as they are crossing one of the many bars they plan to attend off of their list. And well, right time and right place = free rounds on them!

5. Little guy. Okay, this is not to bash short guys. If you are a short guy and like taller girls- kudos! No discrimination. I like it. But Little Guy will indeed be at least a head shorter than you, and super unsettling to be around. You will come across Little Guy at one of the more popular clubs or bars, usually on the dance floor. He is the fist-pumping type…

Little guy will reach up with all of his might and tap you on the shoulder.

He’s kind of cute so you think “Alright, cool. New friend!”

And then he approaches your ear extremely closely, you can literally feel his lips on your lobes, and comes out with this line: “Hey sexy. I like your outfit.”

Like, no you don’t.

What he likes is that you are in your bathing suit in general. I mean, it is a beachclub. You smile, politely thank him, and turn back towards the DJ. And then you feel another tap from Little guy.

Ugh now what?

“Do you want a drink?”

Without even thinking you decline. And then you immediately wonder if you made a mistake. Should you have taken that free $15 drink? But then he gives you a glare and storms off, which makes you stand firm in your decision.

Clearly he was just trying to buy his way to rub onto your booty. (*See Dear Guys: What Not To Do At A Club

Also, the bar was like, way far away from the dance floor..who knows what he could have slipped into that drink by the time he got it to you?

Maybe if he hadn’t used that creepy pick-up-line-maneuver and practically bit your ear off he would have had a better shot to spend his money on you.

6. Actual new friends. Every time you go to Atlantic City, you should make an effort to leave with new friends. This will make up for all of the odd encounters you have had the rest of the weekend.

You will run into them serendipitously and instantly have a connection. It can be a group or a few individuals, but you will spend time chatting, laughing, dancing- whatever you please. They will ward off the creepers such as Grampa and Little Guy, and you will feel safe and carefree surrounded by your new friends.

When you are forced to separate, you will have a deep feeling of sadness wash over you. You can’t be done with your new friends already! So you will exchange numbers and hope to meet up again one day.

College Graduation: The Saddest of All the Milestones

College graduation is the saddest of all the milestones.

Well, okay. It’s really exciting. I mean here I am, thrust into the so-called ‘real world’, ready to make money, live on my own, travel, learn new responsibilities, find a husband (lol just kidding on the husband-part) and be an ‘adult’. And will I soon move out of my parents’ house, find a salary job, and go create my own life? Let’s hope so… But that’s a post for another time.

Today I want to focus on graduation (mostly because I’ve refused to focus on the dirty g-word all semester).

As the day of doom approached, I felt cool, calm, and collected. I was frequenting the bar, spending time and money with friends, and all around enjoying the last of my college days.

What sucked though…is that I didn’t (and arguably still don’t) realize that my college days were soon to be over. Sure I knew in the back of my head. Why else would I go out on a Tuesday night or try to explore the entire city where my college was located in the last few weeks that I’ve neglected to explore in the entire four years in which I lived there?

Subconsciously I was freaking out.

I was spending money I barely had (my bad bank account). I wasn’t sleeping well for literally weeks on end (zombie status). I was eating my feelings  (just in time for bikini-season). I was trying to reconnect with people that I barely knew (and will definitely never see again).

I was sucking in all that is the “college-experience”.

And as the day got closer, I wasn’t afraid, I wasn’t nervous, and I wasn’t anxious. I was secure in the fact that I was graduating and ready to move on. I needed a new space, a new time, a new face. I was sick of the same people, the same town, the same classes. I wanted to make money, find my passion, grow. I was ready.

And then the weekend came.

The candlelight baccalaureate service on our college’s front lawn was beautiful. That’s when it first started to hit me. Tears silently filled my eyes as I struggled not to scream, sob, freak out. As soon as the seniors in various a cappella groups from campus began to sing the Irish Blessing “May The Road Rise Up To Meet You“, I lost it. Not only was this indicative of my college career ending and beginning a new chapter of my life, but OF COURSE the country I happened to study abroad in was Ireland.

Like, really? It HAD to be that song? 

Memories flooded my brain. Images of the friends, mistakes, blessings, anger, happiness, parties, and education I had at college slid across my mind like a slideshow.

Fast forward to later that night, in the local bar that I happen to love with a few of my best friends, enjoying the last beer we’d have there for awhile. We chatted a bit about graduation and how weird it was, but it felt like an ordinary night at that bar. Not the eve of our college graduation…

I don’t think I slept for more than 3 hours that night. I woke up late, as per usual, took a fast shower, attempted to apply make-up and put on my best fake smile.

This was it. This was the day that I had been working towards not only for the past four years of my life, but for the past 22. I was graduating college. 

Black circles under my eyes from many sleepless nights were only appropriate for my graduation day, as they were the symbol of my college life; whether I lost sleep due to staying up late finishing a paper and studying, or partying well into the early hours of the morning.

The ceremony was a blur. I try to remember, but only 3 weeks later and I hardly can. All I remember is that gut-wrenching feeling, and yet at the same time the avoidance of the fact that this could be the last time I sat in that school’s gym.

On graduation day, I barely saw any of my close friends from college. After the ceremony, I had a nice brunch with my family, packed up out of my college house, and began the hour drive home alone.

Um, thank God it was only an hour. The SECOND I fastened my seat belt, the tears came. And I am not talking some silent-cry like I’ve quietly done in my adult-life whenever I’ve come across a bad situation. I’m talking a SOB. A loud, painful-sounding, gasping-for-air sob.

That sob lasted the entire way home.  This is when it hit me. The last four years went by so fast. Freshman year felt like yesterday. I have met some of the best, crazy, smart, interesting people in the world. I had new experiences, new places, and new situations under my belt. And now it was all over. 

I remember feeling like I was going through a break-up, like Muhlenberg College dumped me and kicked me to the curb. I felt heart-broken.

And before this depressing-self-rant goes too far, I will leave you with this advice:

1. Don’t work at a card/gift store directly post graduation. It will only depress you to see people shopping for high school grad gifts, and make you think “UGH THEY’RE SO LUCKY, THEY STILL HAVE ALL OF COLLEGE.”

2. If you have to work at a card/gift store post graduation, go read through all of the inspirational sayings on cards and gifts…You might just come across this:

“You can’t move on to the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one”

3. The next chapter can (and probably will) be better than the last. College was great; it gave you perspective, experiences, and friends. You don’t have to let these things go, in fact, take these with you as you move on to the next chapter.

I truly believe, when given the chance, the ‘real-world’ can be just as fun and rewarding as the college experience was.

And I’m excited to find out just how great it can be!

(But really, this is how I feel about graduating)

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Why I Chose My ‘Useless’ Major

In college I chose to double major in Media & Communication and Religion Studies. While I get enough crap about being a ‘comm’ major, and ‘having an easy work load’, ‘not having to try as hard’, or ‘taking the easy way out’ (none of which are true), my Religion Studies major tends to raise more eyebrows.

If you happen to study anthropology, philosophy, history, sociology, or basically anything in the humanities or social sciences, I am sure you have dealt with a similar issue I have: people asking why.

Why would you study that? What can you even do with that? Why didn’t you pick a more practical major? 

Recently I even had a friend from high school say, and I quote, “You trolled yourself. You were one of the smartest people in high school and you graduated a troll” because of the major(s) I chose.

Granted, being a jobless recent graduate, I took this criticism very personally. He was right- I didn’t choose a ‘practical major with a set career path’.

But why does that make my major useless? Does getting a high paying job immediately after college mean everything these days? Is that what shows my worth in life? Isn’t there anything else?

So why did I choose my useless major with an ambiguous future?

Because I like learning.

At my part-time job the other day a man asked what I studied in college, and after I told him, for possibly the first time ever, I did not get “…why?” but rather “So you’re an intellectual?”

Nothing felt as good as that compliment.

What majors such as philosophy and religion studies give to a person may not be a set path to a career, but they are not ‘useless’ majors that warrant a ‘why would you study that’?

Religion Studies may not give me specific technical skills to place on my resume, but it opens my mind, it allows me to think, to analyze, to compare, to understand.

 

Religion studies allowed me to think deeply about the historical, anthropological, philosophical, sociological, and psychological aspects of religious people, cultures, places, beliefs, beginnings, teachings, rituals, and understandings. I did not study religion to become a pastor or a rabbi; I studied it to gain a deeper, more well-rounded understanding of the world and how both explicit and implicit religious meanings has affected its history.

My major has forced me to think, read, and write critically. It has forced me to see things I would otherwise have looked past. It has forced me to learn. What more could I ask for out of an education? I mean, I have skills for my resume-I’m not skill-less, but I also have a mind, and an ability to think.

Further, set paths scare me. This world, my future is open. I can create and follow any path I choose. So if you were a finance major who wants to be a businessman and knows exactly what you need to do to become one- good for you! We need people like you in the world. But I never wanted a set path. I always wanted choice and opportunity. Therefore my majors were perfect for a person such as myself.

And guess what- the world might need you with your understanding of economics, and you with your medical doctorate, and you with your law degree, but the world also needs people like me with my Media & Communication and Religion Studies degrees.

So why did I choose my ‘useless’ major? Because I wanted to learn. I wanted to know. I wanted to think. I love knowledge. I love understanding. I love when my mind is opened and expanded. I love thinking critically. And I didn’t want a set path.

I don’t think that is a bad thing.

 

 

P.S. If anyone wants to give me a job, hit a sista up. I have a great personality.

 

Are Student Loans Stunting Our Maturity?

As I sit here on my parent’s couch over Easter break listening to Steve Angello’s Essential Mix at 9:30 p.m. on a Friday night… I begin to foresee my future.

**Fast forward 6 months. Diane is sitting on her parent’s couch on a Friday night eating a box of Cheez-itz alone with her dog, watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall or some other movie she has already seen 7 times previously.**

Let me start this off by saying I am both optimistic and greatly excited for my “future” in the “real world”; however, I can’t help but notice all of these drawbacks that may trip me as I attempt to leap into adulthood, forcing me to fall flat on my face. And so, it becomes easier to sit on the sidelines under the protection of adolescence than to take the step forward. However, I would argue that it is not only easier, it is almost becoming necessary for young adults to remain “stuck” as children for a longer period of time. And for that, I blame the expenses of college.

To elaborate, why do I foresee my future as spending countless Friday nights sitting on my parent’s couch? Because I don’t see myself being able to financially afford moving out of my parent’s house for <undocumented period of time>. And when I am home, I am boring. Suburbia isn’t exactly the party-scene of America…

Why won’t I move into a city? Oh, I’d love to! However the expenses of city-living and my student loans loathe each other, and I feel as though there would be a lot of tension in the apartment if all three of us attempted to live together. And since I’ve been with my student loans longer, I chose them as my premier roommate.

It’s a vicious cycle.

Student loans= living at home=not living in city= boring social life. 

And so I will remain stuck (luckily stuck, but stuck nonetheless) in my parent’s house, with a refrigerator full with food, Mom’s home-cooked dinners, and free Wi-Fi/cable (‘free’ meaning I personally don’t have to pay for it…)

These are all basic necessities as well as luxuries that I am SO thankful for- Thank GOD I have parents that will let their liberal-arts-degreed daughter mooch off of their Wi-Fi and Cheez-its until she gets a decent job and can start to afford both student loans and a crappy studio apartment with 6 other roommates in some unappealing area of some city some where.

However, as more and more college graduates are forced to move back home due to this vicious cycle of post-college-poorness, are their maturity levels being stunted?

I feel as though having this luxury of ‘home’ will only start to inhibit my attempts to ‘grow up’. I won’t have to budget myself or even my time for food and other basic amenities. College has spent its last four years attempting to teach me how to survive on my own, yanno with a meal plan but it still tried- yet will all that go to waste the more time I spend at home post-grad? Will I start to regress to my high school dependancies?

It is difficult to learn how to grow up until you fully submerge yourself into the life of an adult, and living at home prevents you from doing so.

When looking at past generations, they were moving out, getting married, having children well before or around my age of 22. WHAT. I cannot even imagine that lifestyle. Sure, our generation seems to focus more on careers and so that could be why all of this marriage-nonsense is getting pushed back for us, but could it also be because we simply cannot afford it? That education costs so much that we spend a good amount of our early twenties just coping with the idea of how to pay for food/housing/bills/etc on top of our loans?

I am so grateful that I have a place to live after graduation come May, but my only concern is that the more time I spend at home, the less I will grow up, that the financial burden of student loans forcing me to stay home will stunt my urge to mature into a fully functioning adult. That it will be too easy to be my parent’s little girl using their Wi-Fi and eating their entire boxes of Cheez-its in one sitting…

As much as I love calling my parent’s house my home, as much as I love coming home on the holidays, and as much as I am not ready to leave it quite yet- I hope one day soon I am ready to, mentally, emotionally, and financially.

To summarize, I want this home to be a place I *can* come back to, not one I *have* to because of the pressures of student loans.

The Art of Day Drinking

Day drinking, otherwise known as alcoholism if you are out of college and above a certain age (not sure what this age is, I can only assume it keeps getting pushed back with time such as the age to get married, start having kids, settling down, moving out, etc all do-for those I blame student loans but that’s a different story…I digress…ahem…)

Day drinking is an elusive hobby usually found deep in the confines of a college campus, particularly around St. Patrick’s day.

Day drinking is a favorite among these inhabitants, probably due to its rarity or defiance of normal socially-acceptable inebriation, or perhaps just because we all know in a few years we will be considered legit alcoholics for popping a beer…or three by 11 a.m.

However, there is a certain art, or technique to the appropriate way to day drink that differs from that of night-drinking.

For example, it’s Thursday night around 10 p.m. You are going to the club in an hour and don’t want to wake up the next day with a depleted bank account from the bar. So what do you do to make sure you are sufficient enough to not have to buy drinks? You pre-game. Hard. I’m talking terribly mixed drinks where your mouth literally burns from the amount of Vladdy. You go to the club for say 2, 3 maybe 4 hours, and you come home to pass out from the night’s festivities.

Day drinking is a whole different ball game. Why?

Reason 1. You are not drinking for those 2, 3, maybe 4 hours as you would on a regular drinking-night. You are drinking….ALL….DAY… Early in the a.m. until late in the evening. Therefore, you take it slower. You don’t need to make terribly mixed, painful-to-drink drinks just to come home after a few unmemorable hours to pass out. You actually need and want to make it past noon and still be somewhat coherent.

Reason 2. Therefore you have no real reason to pre-game. Yay! You can save your cheap vodka for Thursday night’s festivities and drink the cheap beer provided instead!

**Sneaking a mini bottle of Bailey’s into the restaurant where you decide to have brunch to add to your coffee is encouraged, however.

Reason 3. Since you have all day and don’t feel the need to be so drunk so fast, you can actually enjoy every stage of the drunken experience.

1-2 beers:  Nothing. My liver has been trained well.

3-5 beers: So this is what buzzed feels like…

6-8 beers “AM I TALKING LOUD? WANT TO HEAR A REALLY PERSONAL     STORY? ALSO I FREAKIN’ LOVE YOU BY THE WAY. I HAVE TO PEE.”

9-10 beers: *Peeing every 10 minutes* *things start to fade out* *you may remember who you were with or what you were saying, but you will definitely not remember both of these at any given time*

10+ You’ll find out tomorrow what happened.

Reason 4: And then you get to experience the slow process of sobering-up (which you never get to experience on a weekend night because you’ll be long asleep during this time.) Although keep in mind you will never achieve this state of “sober” unless you are in for the night, and let’s face it, you’re not.

The process is as follows:

You realize you’ve been drinking all day, start to take it slower, begin to sober up (but never fully do), eat some hot dogs/hot wings/hot pizza, go home, take a short 30-minute nap, wake up still drunk, drink 1-2 glasses of water, drunkenly attempt to apply mascara without poking out your entire eyeball and straighten your hair without burning your neck and having to explain to everyone it’s not an actual hickey, and you’re ready for the night’s festivities which should include your cheap Vladdy that you luckily didn’t use up earlier in the day. Make a really crappy drink to pregame with (although it’s not really needed considering your entire day was basically a preparation-you will definitely think it is and make one anyway) and go meet your friends at whatever party that won’t live up to your day’s rebellious, socially-frowned-upon fun.