The Monday Blues are the lame friend of The Sunday Scaries. They come around once a week, are a wet blanket until they go away, but aren’t enough to make you throw your hands in the air and question all that is real.
Full disclosure: I was barely able to muster up any Sunday Scaries last night because 1. I was sick and didn’t go out all weekend and 2. The Great British Baking Show on Netflix is the single greatest Sunday television show along with Fraiser and Chef’s Table. Was I lucky to be sick? No, not at all. But at the same time, I was definitely lucky to not be one of these five unfortunate souls.
went to philly for a pgp bar crawl and was blacked out by 1pm. apparently was inspired by last weeks shamrock tattoo from vegas so i attempted to get a matching one. tattoo parlor tried charging me $200 though so i was coherent enough to know not to do it. everyone thinks my “r” on the tattoo app looks like a “c” though and i can assure you i did not try to get a shamcock tattoo. also passionfruit is the banger of the 21st century.
Honestly, I was happy you didn’t get a tattoo until I realized the possibility of you getting a “shamcock” tattoo. I don’t even know what that is, but I’d love to find out by way of a permanent reminder on your body.
And yes, for those wondering, “Passionfruit” has surpassed “Paris” as the greatest song of all-time.
Saturday, I got kicked out of the bar for falling asleep, took an uber two blocks, threw up on the street, then fell asleep outside my apartment because I was locked out. This was all before 2:30 PM. Bottomless mimosas at 9:45 then chugging a pitcher of beer is not the best idea.
Also, stopped a fellow PGPer from getting a tattoo.
You serve as an inspiration to us all to brunch hard and brunch early. While I don’t condone falling asleep in bars pre-2:30, I don’t hate the move of a quick power nap to get your day started before you head into the afternoon hours of the bender. Don’t let the haters keep you down.
Let me preface this with I’m 25.
Friday night I went out for my buddy’s birthday and after the drinks were flowing for a while this girl came past our table and face planted right in front of our table. We started talking and she mentioned her sorority house. I assumed she was on a victory lap or at least a senior so I didn’t think much of it. We end up coming back to my place and have sex. Being a drunk idiot, I assumed the (what I thought) 22 year old sorority would be on the pill. NOPE. so the next morning i prove im still a gentleman and i go and buy plan b. In the wonderfully awkward car ride there she mentions she usually isnt allowed in the bar we met at. I become curious and ask why. She has a fake ID because she cannot legally drink. she was 19.
Friday TL;DR – came inside a 19 year old and had to buy her plan b.
Saturday I ended up at the same bar with a girl ive been talking to for a few weeks. I ate dinner there beforehand so i got there with a buddy at like 7. im very drunk by the time she shows up, around 10, and do something to anger her cause she left around 11. i stay and run into a girl i dated for a little last year. we turn into 2 16 year olds at their first dance and are dancing and kissing on stage in the middle of the bar making a rather large scene. i end up bringing her home and have sex with her as well. luckily for me she is on the pill so i didnt have to buy another plan b, because drunk idiot doesnt need condoms.
Saturday TL;DR – got in a fight with girl ive been talking to and slept with an ex
love the pod(s) and i dont think your takes are as bad as everyone claims.
I…. no. I’m not condoning any of this behavior.
Thursday night, drove my car to a friend’s around 6pm to pregame, then went to a bar. A stranger offered me coke so I obviously accepted. Then we went to another bar – fast forward through lots of drinks- my friends want to go home around 1:30 but I didn’t, so I stayed alone. At this point, I’m fully blacked.
I tripped on a table and landed face first on gravel in front of ~40 people. Pretty sure I skidded a little bc my face is all scraped up now. I ran out of the bar crying and decided to walk home.
Called 3 different people sobbing crying while I walked. Finally get to my apartment and notice that my parking spot is empty (bc I left it at the pregame), and this is where I LOSE it. I thought my car was stolen (it was not), so I called my dad and left him a 5 minute long voicemail of me hysterically crying at 2am.
Then woke up the next day and I didn’t remember anything until i looked in the mirror and noticed my face, and then my dad called and filled me in.
Still alive tho ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Honestly, none of that would be that bad if you hadn’t called your dad. That’s something that’s going to take a few weeks to rebound from. Good on him for filling you in the next morning rather than driving to wherever you are and having an intervention.
Ha. I ended up at a charity gala (great gatsby themed. no one told me so I showed up in a dress from urban outfitters, a choker, and denim jacket.) for an all girl’s catholic school. Pounded half of a bottle of free white wine before my competitive side came out and I found myself in a bidding war over a Clarisonic and a wood print of leaves with two middle aged moms during the silent auction. Spent a subtle $300 winning both. Not sure where the print is going to go but ngl, the Clarisonic is pretty dope. Still. Not my best moment. Then drank another bottle of wine at dinner and was way too enthusiastic when the other members of my table would bid during the live auction. I clearly didn’t fit in there. Oh, I also tipped the free valet $25. Not sure why.
Oh, I know why you tipped the valet $25 even though it was free. Because that’s what ballers do. It’s the same as tipping the bartender at an open bar wedding – you don’t have to do it, but 1. it makes them treat you like the golden goose and 2. it makes their night knowing that they aren’t just working in the presence of a bunch of heartless assholes.
Here’s to next weekend, everyone. Hopefully, everyone gets it together (but not really). .