Study Party.

The one weekend that I should be focusing on studying, seeing as finals are this week, I drank more than I ever have before. Thursday, some of the theater gang came over, along with Marcus, Cole, and Cassie. After consuming quarts of vodka out of a cereal bowl, the group started heading out in different directions.

Take A Chill Pill.

I am intimidated by people who type aggressively. When I see a status or a wall post that looks something like “Dustin Roberts is YEAA F*CKIN RIGHT BITCHES I’M DRINKIN BUD LIGHT N F*CK DA PO MAN!!” I feel uncomfortable, like I’ve been reprimanded by an angry authoritative figure, or shouted at by a bum downtown. There is simply no need to type in all capital letters for any reason, unless you are truly trying to communicate that you are very, very excited about something, or flame-spitting angry. But please: don’t

I’M A PITA-EATING MOTHER FUCKER!

Labor Day Weekend more or less means a 94-hour block of drunkenness for anyone who’s anyone around these parts, so naturally I’m joining the majority. The past 72 hours have been full of vodka and cheap beer. A little substance abuse and nudity never hurt anyone. Except Anna Nicole Smith. And Kurt Cobain. And Marilyn Monroe.

…And presumably Elvis Presley. Shit happens.