10 PM: Internal Bronologue

Muhammad H Tahir

The College's first standardized alcohol policy leaves some questions-- including the status of a beloved drinking game-- up for debate.

Aight bro, it’s game time. T-minus one hour until party o’clock, so just enough time for you to get your head in the game and do some work tonight. Who’s gonna get laid tonight? Huh? I couldn’t hear you. I asked, who’s gonna get laid TONIGHT?? YEAH? YOU, THAT’S RIGHT GETSOMEHUH!

Woah, chill bro, chill. It’s not party o’clock yet, you got plenty of time to unleash the fury. Let’s just get us a brewski, down that shit in one, get another, down that shit in one, and then down the third with some super chill Mario Kart. Good plan, let’s do this.

(Cracks beer, begins chugging.)

*Choke* Okay, down in two is good, happens to the best of bros.

(Drinks.)

*Cough* Down in three, close enough. Alright, where my bros at? Let’s get some beerio kart going already!

Shit wait I should probably shower after lacrosse practice, I reek. Unless...do the ladies like it when I reek? I mean that girl from last weekend, what was her name? Tina? Tiffany? Alexis? Whatever, blondie seemed to like my sweaty sleeveless jersey and flatbrim cap last time, maybe the reek plays. Yeah, totally plays. Know what, I should probably go lift before I head out, just get that extra swoll’ and sweaty sheen before hitting DeWolfe.

Pep talk time, bro. Just remember, you’re awesome. You can’t really dance, but you can fist pump like a boss. You can throw a ping pong ball into a cup from halfway across the room, and you know from Stat 104 that, statistically speaking, the more you do that the more likely it is that some biddie’s gonna be impressed by that some day. Like, guaranteed. You know all the lyrics to “Red Solo Cup” and “Feel So Close.” Girls want you, and nobody knows you haven’t gotten laid since high school, so every night’s a fresh start. You’re the man, my dude, and nobody can tell you that the extra round of shots is a bad idea. Or keg stands. Those are sick too. Chyeah.

Wait, damn, did I call mom back? Okay, new plan, call mom, THEN rage. GET SOME. Peace out.

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