Running out of wine (and how it’s kind of a metaphor for my life)

A time will come shortly after you graduate college when you’re too old to drink like you used to but you’re also too young to accept that fact. It will be during this time that you will find yourself having a glass of wine with dinner every. Damn. Night. And it’s kind of sad because you’re drinking wine because you genuinely like the taste AND it’s from a bottle not a box AND you (almost) never get a wine hangover because you’re only having a glass. It’s weird. And then the wine runs out and you find a bottle of vodka in your freezer literally LEFT OVER FROM SENIOR WEEK and you make yourself and mixie and you wonder how you got to where you are. And that’s when you write a blog.

Once when I was in London, my friends and I wanted to have beer olympics. One thing led to another and we ended up playing with Strongbow (a cider brand that should be put in jail for trying to kill me via hangover multiple times). After drinking 20 liters of Strongbow between ten people, I looked around and I weirdly had a Gyro in my hand that I didn’t remember ordering/leaving the apartment to get. One of my friends was drunkenly constructing a trophy out of Strongbow bottles while muttering “this was my life for two years,” and another friend was screaming “IT WON’T BE FUNNY WHEN I’M DEAD TOMORROW.” I was confused how any of these events had happened independently let alone how they were connected in any way. It was surreal and I couldn’t make sense of it. My point is that THAT is kind of how I feel every morning I wake up and I remember I’m not in college. Except in this scenario I don’t go home and drunkenly email my boyfriend to tell him that he has “the emotional capacity of a caterpillar” because I’m a fucking grown up and vodka just doesn’t inspire me to write scathing emails in the same way Strongbow always did.

If you’ve read this far, you’re probably currently compiling a list of AA meetings in my areas to gently send my way with the subject line “something to think about.” Well, that’s rude because passive aggressive (mostly aggressive) emails are clearly MY thing and also if you’re thinking that way you’re obviously still in college and you don’t understand how I feel. Talk to me when you graduate and you run out of wine and the wine is kind of a metaphor for your life.

…….And now I need a drink.

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Grown Up Thoughts

Transitioning from the comfort of my alma mater to a new, much glitzier school (our library was a former president’s summer home) has been harder than expected. For one, I’m confused as to why there is no sign of Jesus anywhere. Having gone to a Jesuit school for undergrad, I’m used the the constant, judgmental undertones of Catholicism. However, they have made up for the lack of religious paraphernalia by kind of naming a building after beyonce (Bey hall). So I kind of still feel the judgement and disappointment similar to what I’m sure Jesus feels when he sees me. (Doing the rosary 100 times for comparing Bey to Jesus. Thou shalt have no other gods blah blah blah).

The lack of Jesus has left me feeling pretty alone and wondering if anyone even hears me when I pray for the Mets to get good or for calorie-less bread. I’m having a very “are you there God? It’s me, Margaret” moment.

Along with thoughts of having been forsaken, I’ve been having a lot of other intrusive thoughts that I can only attribute to growing up and becoming an adult. I’ve decided to make a list of very grown up thoughts I’ve been having because I’m sure people can relate. I’ve put them in the order that they typically pop up during the day:

  1. Why does my bed smell like an everything bagel
  2. Where’s the sun
  3. Shut up birds seriously shut up
  4. Is mixing white wine and orange juice kind of like a mimosa? (answer: no)
  5. Do I have to dress up for class now that I’m in grad school?
  6. I’ll just add a lot of bracelets I feel like social workers do that
  7. Is three cups of coffee before 7am too many?
  8. It doesn’t count if it’s ice coffee.
  9. Since when do I have so much Biggie on my iphone?
  10. Fuck traffic. Fuck construction. Fuck everyone on the road but me.
  11. Why am I sweating already?
  12. Wait now my car smells like an everything bagel
  13. I should have brought a wine-mimosa with me to class
  14. Seriously, when did I go on a drunk itunes binge and buy all these Biggie songs?
  15. $3.31 is NOT a good price for gas
  16. BIGGIE BIGGIE BIGGIE CAN’T YOU SEE SOMETIMES YOUR WORDS JUST HYPNOTIZE ME
  17. Shit I almost hit that kid. I hate commuting. Parking is a nightmare. Everything sucks
  18. Look at those undergrads. What a life. Look how carefree they look. Their whole life is ahead of them.
  19. You shouldn’t have yelled “trade lives with me” out your window.

Clearly, I’m spiraling. I may have asked my dog what it’s like to live a life free of responsibility during an especially hard moment in this existential crisis I’m having. I’ve also had three people tell me I look “really familiar” so I’m convinced there is someone out there using my pictures to Catfish others, or I just have a really average looking face.

PLEASE GOD, if you’re there, let it be the former. I’d rather have my identity stolen than be average. Amen. 

How to be really good at senior year

Tomorrow marks the first day in four years that my college will be starting without me in attendance. If you’re wondering how I’m coping: I’m not. Yesterday, I told my mom I would rather be dead than not go back to school but I quickly took it back when I realized I was in fact NOT going back to school and yet here I was, alive.
Because I can’t be a college student for the rest of my life (not for lack of trying), I’ve compiled some tips for how to be really good at senior year:

Call the bouncer/owner at your favorite bar “mom.” Plan to only to it when speaking about her to others, but get drunk enough that you definitely, definitely call her mom to her face at least once a weekend. Get so drunk that you actually start treating her like your mom. Cry in her arms. Hug her a lot. Ask her to take selfies with you. Apologize when you are too drunk “in her home.” Thank her when she has one of her employees make sure you “get home safe.”
I have done all of the above and it definitely pays off on your birthday weekend when the bar is too crowded and she isn’t letting people in but then she sees your face and ushers you past everyone else. It also helps to point at your crown and tell her you’re going to “lose it if I’m not home for my birthday.”

Order champagne at the bar. Nothing says “smiling through tears” like drinking $12 champagne out of the bottle. You’ll also make a ton of friends, if you consider friends to be people who disappear once the bottle is empty, which I do.

Lose your fear of dancing. It helps to embrace one move and do it to every single song no matter what. When in doubt, just spin in circles.

Make a mends. Maybe a rude lax bro made fun of you once sophomore year and you hold a grudge. Maybe a rude lax bro spread rumors about you when you were a freshman, maybe a lax bro loved you on the weekends but then ignored you during the week. Wait, I’m seeing a pattern. Fuck lax bros. Don’t make a mends, ignore them completely (unless they have a bottle of champagne in their hands…then, make a mends.)

Wednesday is the new Thursday. Tuesday is the new Wednesday, and Sunday is the new saturday. Maybe take Monday off.

When your friend asks you to go out, say yes. Literally, always just do it. Even if your friend may be developing an alcohol dependency, go out with her and just hope the habit ends after graduation.

Crying at the bar is no longer a taboo and it will actually get you a ton of free drinks.

If you feel like shit about the way you look, just put on dark lipstick.

Pregame every outing. Even if you’re going to your bar for unlimited beer, definitely pregame. Show up with all your friends way drunker than everyone at the bar. Pregame so much that people are prompted to ask how early you started drinking.

Bring a flask out with you. Add vodka to your vodka. Add vodka to your beer if you wanna remember nothing and tweet weird things when you get home. Yell at your friend who thought it would be a good idea to put vodka in your beer, pray for death when you have a weird beer-ka hangover, bargain with God and tell him you’ll never drink again, curse everything and everyone, but then half seriously suggest you add vodka to your beer every weekend because OMG I think I had so much fun.

Stand near a garbage can at the bar so you can throw up without having to stop dancing.

Cry. Cry a lot. Hug people you have never even liked. Look around the bar and think “I’ll never see a lot of these people again in a few months.” Let that fact terrify you or let it comfort you. Don’t ever let the crying get in the way of the drinking.

During our senior week kickoff party, there was this dumbass sign with that Dr. Suess quote…”Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” Quite frankly, at the time, it infuriated me. How am I suppose to not cry? Seriously? But now, I get it. Every single moment I spent in my favorite bar was perfection. Maybe you won’t know what a deductible is, maybe you won’t understand how to negotiate a salary, maybe your college education left you feeling utterly unequipped for the real world, but at least you will know how to nurse a hangover from cheap alcohol, and at least you will have friends that you can FaceTime at 7am on Sunday mornings to talk about how drunk you still are before falling back to sleep.

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.