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.