Let me paint this picture for you: Margarita Monday – awkward dinner as the only female in a bunch of KAs. Spilled a little in my lap to make things more awkward than they already were.
Got drunk. Got home. Set an alarm for 2am. Slept. Woke up and hopped into my car.
Ripped the KS flag off their house and hung it up on my wall at home.
Went back to bed.
Still questioning my life choices. Is YOLO considered a motivation?
So many people don’t know how to make a toga. Shame on y’all.
1) Find 2 belts and a bed sheet of your choice. One should be toga-relevant. The other one doesn’t matter.
2) Fold sheet hotdog style.
3) Place belt inside, in the fold.
4) Belt it one-shoulder style.
5) Rearrange fabric so it’s evenly dispersed.
6) Belt other belt around your waist to give your body some shape.
So I started my Saturday with that process. Made an 8-shot drink. Downed it. Grabbed 2 cups of juice when I got to our social with KS. Poor choices. YOLO.
Tried to target el presidente. Then went for my ex. Avoided the phone calls from my regular, hoping for variety. Apparently he threw up on himself and was broadcasting an SOS. My bad.
Had what was surely an exciting, intelligent conversation with the brothers outside on sober duty. El oh el.
Decided I was too drunk for life and went home to snuggle with my pillows.
Drunk-buzzed till 3 the next day. Enjoyed the moment at Olive Garden with my partner in crime, her other half, and my regular. We plotted an epic 3 en la manana capture the flag event to be executed in the upcoming days. KS is going to hate us.
Updates to follow.
My sorority’s formal was Friday!
Drank in the shower, smeared on a cake of hoe-makeup, glued on some false lashes, tracked down my regular, and stepped into some 5-inch heels. Ready to go.
Danced (grinded), chowed down on meatballs, peed way too many times, took so many pictures I don’t recall.
Got back to campus, shenaniganed in the shower with my date. Passed out.
Woke up at 6:30 to film a school project. Definitely still drunk. I didn’t even lose the fancy Canon I brought. Most excellent.
So there it was: a typical Margarita Monday on a Wednesday. I was writing the standard post-marg drunk paper when the RA’s come in saying that security was coming because of an underage drinking report. All we were doing was sipping and playing Super Smash Bro’s. No ragers were to be had that night. WTF?
Someone we knew definitely reported us. I was ready to rip him to shreds.
Security raided the place and found my bottle of tequila. I claimed it as mine. Since I was drinking in the presence of minors, I got reported for providing to minors. They poured out my Jose Cuervo. Bitches. I have a meeting with some suits tomorrow. Totally arguing the point.
Let me share with you a texting conversation: [WY] Hey babe keep me posted [ME] Slightly fucked. They found my tequila. Providing to minors. [WY] FUCK I’m sorry!!! [ME] Lol wateva
I’m glad I drowned my fucks in alcohol last night.
Updates to follow.
I’m disappointed. Whenever I interact with PKP brothers, I always end up with a hilariously awkward story to share. But I didn’t end up finding any winners.
They had a glow party last night. I dressed in my best neon, painted war stripes onto my face, played rum roulette, and ventured into the cold. It took a bit to get in because they were at full capacity, but we made it happen.
FWB finished his beer; I threw the can across the room. I hope it hit someone annoying.
Got bored, peaced out to KA, played drunk volleyball with a kickball. Left for FWB’s place. Spilled my feelings to him. I really need to stop doing that until I actually decide what I want my next step to be.
Fell asleep at 6 am, woke up at 8:45 because I had to do an all-day videoshoot for one of my classes. I was absolutely still drunk when I arrived. Go me.
So after a romantic dinner date at BWW with my FWB, we got a sudden text proclaiming a date party. Something along the lines of zip tie handcuffs and a fifth. Sounds like my kind of affair.
Since it was barely past 9, the ABC store was closed. I couldn’t get something reasonable, so I went for my fifth of 151 rum. Poor choice even if it was already half gone.
Arrived to the party scene, zip tied, stole a chaser. Champed that 151. Made comments about wanting to set it on fire. Glowed.
Left the party for beer. Threw up in a parking lot. FWB took me home. Hooked up all over the place, including the shower. Ended up being the drunk crying girl, but FWB pulled me back together. I think. Didn’t sleep till 5 en la mañana.
Finding my clothes this morning was like a scavenger hunt.
I’m exhausted and still slightly drunk, but today is big/little reveal so napping isn’t really an option. Damn.
In honor of the Olympics and the snow that’s carpeting our campus, a fraternity built an actual snow luge. It took them all day and it was totally worth the anticipation.
Mentally prepared with Bacardi and flip cup. Champed it as always. Snow luged for a bit. It was cold, but whatever. That’s what drunk is for.
Ended up in KS. Preached to my future grand little about the importance of “playing the game.” Displaying eagerness and following him around the frat house is not the key, but glances across the room, dancing with sisters, and continuously sipping liquid confidence is. Gotta reel em in with confidence. Stay classy, ladies.
Played the game to be a true role model. Left with my ex 15 minutes later. Winner. Jesus, I miss him. He’s the best big spoon.
I was hungover and laying in bed till 3.
Put some warm clothes on, grabbed some beers, and went sledding down a massive hill on the lid of a storage bin. I couldn’t feel my feet, but I COULD feel my ass. It took some rough tumbles off the “sled.”
Roasted marshmallows in the fireplace.
Took a 5-minute nap.
Made a margarita.
Now it’s time to carpe noche all over again. Over and out, homies.
Based on the holy hangover I possess, last night was a blast.
Had snowgaritas and juice from KA. Kept trying to run around in the snow, kept falling in the most embarrassing ways.
Got bored of the KA party, went home and drunk dialed my first love – from middle school. I couldn’t tell you a damn thing we discussed, but I’m sure I was entertaining.
So I’ve hooked up with 2 guys from the same fraternity. Both have the same name. So convenient and amusing.
With friends, I call them Zlambda 1 and Zlambda 2.
Parties where they’re both present feel like the Hunger Games.
Had the opportunity to tango with Zlambda 2 last night. Ended up with my regular instead, who is beginning to get a little emotionally attached. Why can’t I find the perfect FWB situation? The “we need to talk” message really stresses me out.
But no matter what happens, I know that Margarita Mondays will always be there for me.