FRIDAY NIGHT.
10:00 PM: We make drinks. Usually a mix of Fireball whisky and vodka, I pour about 8 shots into the half emptied soda bottle. Pregame!
10:30 PM: Good thing the party’s got more booze too. Double up with a can of PBR, then another can of PBR, then a shot from my friend’s UV Cake. It’s going great.
11:00 PM: I’m like so buzzed. Wow. Not even faking it anymore. Parties are so much fun. I love drinking. I hold my breath and take another shot of whatever. Doesn’t matter. Shots!
11:30 PM: Oh damn, sorry man. Was that my drink I spilled on you? So sorry. Oh hey, you’re cute. Yeah, I’m like so drunk. What?! Sorry music’s so loud, oh yeah I love whisky. Can I have a sip?
12:00 AM: No it’s cool—I like sitting—this couch is so comfy—hey! Where’d my drink go? F**king Suzie probably took it. Spinning worldddd where’s my drinkkkk? Spin spin world.
12:15 AM: WHERE’S THE BATHROOM?
12:17 AM: Oh, sorry potted plant. My bad. Don’t you worry, it’s all naturalllll.
12:20 AM: Wasn’t me, Stephanie. I love plants.
12:30 AM: Leaving now? But Suziieeeeee—where’s my drink? Oooh, can I have some of that?
12:40 AM: I don’t even feel the cold. Isn’t that weird? Wow!
12:41 AM: You’re a mess of gross, sidewalk. Oh wait, did I do that?
12:45 AM: TAXXIISSSSS
1:00 AM: I’m okay! Just let me sleep. No, I don’t want any water. Water’s for posers. Sleep sleep spinning world.
. . . . . . . . . . What a great night.
University of Iowa is known for this genius from some reason. It’s not like we have excellent clubs or bars or City wide parties that go all weekend. No, we just get absolutely trashed. We are rated number 1 in getting so sh*t faced that no actually remembers anything. And we’re proud, aren’t we? Well yeah. People wear shirts boasting how cool we are. We are the drunkest university. We claim it like a gold medal. Hell yeah!
And it’s fun, right? Getting drunk is a blast.
We make the best decisions. The absolute best. Having no control over our bodies or minds only leads to logical and justified situations. Thinking very clearly, we punch some dude in the face. With only the best intentions, we f**k that guy our best friend loves. We get touchy while we let others touch us. But it’s ok. It’s not like we remember much and anyway, we didn’t mean it. We were drunk.
We vomit. Like hell, we vomit. We literally poison ourselves enough that our bodies can’t take it anymore and purge everything from existence. It’s so great. I don’t know about you, but I love my throat is on fire and my head feels like 3 chainsaws are going crazy. And what’s even better, we can just get up from the sticky floor of the Pancheros bathroom and take a shot.
The morning. Oh, the morning. The birds chirping outside sound like thunder and the sunlight burns out our eyes. At around noon, we crawl out of bed like an actual dead person and try to eat some leftover enchilada and take sips of a red Gatorade. It tastes so good. The weakness of our bodies really adds to the meal. Oh yum! Maybe if I eat slow enough, it won’t all come back up!
And of course, we always have next weekend to look forward to. Better clean out the trashcan!
So what are you waiting for? Go out and get drunk! Drink until you pass out in some gutter in the middle of a call with your ex-boyfriend. Drink until you can’t even see your hands. Drink until your liver bursts and the only person around is too drunk to understand. Drink! Drink! Drink!
You’re in Iowa City now. And didn’t you hear? We’re number one.