Okay, I get it. You’re nervous. You have anxiety. Your neighbor’s best friend’s brother’s co-worker’s aunt once died from partaking in a game of Fuck the Dealer. However, this doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy the fine taste of alcoholism.
Let me be more specific here: let’s say you’re at the bar. Everyone around you is belting out “Jump on it! Jump on it!” at the top of their lungs, all the while double-fisting gin and tonics, falling out of chairs and making poor life decisions in the corner.
You, on the other hand, are slowly sipping a Bud Light and readjusting your orange halter-top from K-mart. You’ve never forgotten your actions from the night before, nor do you have plans of ever doing so. You enjoy the “flavor” of beer and once threw up from chugging a 6-pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade at the Kansas County Fair.
Listen, orange halter-top wearing girls. Over here in the fist-pumping corner of the world, we’re worried about you. We want you to work on being a shitshow at all hours of the day. It takes practice, but anyone can wake up in the hospital with enough hard work!
