something i learned in college.

during the few weeks leading up to my graduation, and the few weeks after, i reflected a lot on what i had learned as an undergrad. basically it comes out to this: bad things happen when you drink on tuesdays. drinking on mondays is fine, and encouraged, but please don’t find yourself at a bar on a tuesday because you may kiss a boy that you shouldn’t be kissing and maybe you’ll leave the bar with him and come out of your blackout back at his house and you may vomit a little in your mouth at the realization of what is going on, but the vomit may also be from the fifteen beers you had (because when you pay five dollars to drink unlimited beer for two hours you better get your fucking money’s worth.)

the vomit also may be from you reflecting on your life and realizing you are completely smashed on a fucking tuesday. either way, vomiting on a tuesday is embarrassing.

also: i once got kissed by a boy with bottom braces on a tuesday. in the hallway of my sophomore dorm. i say got kissed by and not kissed because i think i was in the middle of a sentence when he leaned in, kissed me, and then said “i’m going to dinner” and disappeared around the corner. and also, no one over the age of thirteen voluntarily kisses a boy with bottom braces.

also also: later that week, the same bottom-braced boy called me into his room and opened his closet to show me all the ralph lauren polos he owned. i WISH i was kidding.


into the unknown (and out of alcoholism)

on june 1, 2014, also known as the worst day of my life (or the proudest, depending who i’m talking to), I woke up to my roommate making sure I was awake twenty minutes before we had to leave the house.
i realize that sentence makes no sense without context. the worst/proudest day of my life was the day i graduated college. I was wasted when I woke up. I think my first thought was “well if i didn’t graduate drunk I wouldn’t be being true to myself.” that thought was closely followed by “fuck. when i sober up this hangover is gonna be so real.” turns out, in one last under-grad miracle, the hangover never hit me. i went from completely wasted to sober without the horrible hangover. although, now that i’m thinking about it, the wave of nausea i experienced could have been partially a hangover, but i chose to believe in undergrad miracles and attributed my passing nausea as the beginning of an inevitable breakdown over the fact that i was graduating.
anyway, i probably should have set an alarm but i guess Drunk Me was at least 98% sure that my housemates wouldn’t leave for the culmination of our college career without me. (interesting, Drunk Me ALWAYS remembers to set an alarm reminding me to wake up and eat food in hopes that we can avoid Hungover Me.)
i’ll skip the three hour graduation ceremony because who the fuck cares about whether or not i graduated with honors or that i almost had a panic attack while walking across the stage or that I was crying but i wasn’t sitting by any of my friends so I had to hold it in and it pretty much sounded like i was whimpering through the whole ceremony. whatever.

the interesting part is that on that last night in my college town, i threw up in my house for the very first time ever during my college career, further proving that undergrad miracles do exist and that once you have a diploma the undergrad gods forsake you.

oh, by “in my house” i mean in my favorite bar, and by “for the first time ever” i mean for the first time ever that i can recall. but the point is, i was only an alumni for about 7 hours and i already couldn’t hang like an undergrad. i wanted to die.