So it’s Friday night and you and your friends are getting ready to go out. As per-usual, Friday night you’ll find a house party to go to because who, as a junior in college, wouldn’t want to share a keg with a freshman girl in a jean skirt and uggs. A night out is a night out and when the bars by your college suck and you’re 1 month, 4 days 12 hours and 36 seconds away from turning 21, you take the good with the bad.
Seeing as I am a junior, a lot of my friends have houses and usually they have pretty chill, fun house parties, 30 people, at least 3 kegs and all my friends are there; a great Friday night until 12:30 strikes. We’ve been there since classes ended at 4:00 and playing every game we could think of. Your desperate friend… we’ll call her “ Stacy” gets a text message from the freshman in her Spanish 101 class to come to Lexington Street because he
wants to “hang”. Fuck all of our lives. We’re not just going to let Stacy go by herself and walk through the ghetto parts of our college town because no body really wants to get blamed for another friends rape. So you and a couple friends swallow your pride and decide to go with her. Why don’t you want to go to Lexington Street one may ask? Hmmm well where to begin…
The whole defensive line of the girl’s rugby team lives there which means the whole guys rugby team is going to be there and between you and all your girlfriends combined, you’ve fucked the whole team, coach and assistant coach. Not to mention every freshman and their friend that’s visiting from their community college will be there. As if you didn’t feel like a pedophile enough for being friends with Stacy who’s already tonsils deep giving
some frosh his first blow job in the basement bathroom, you have to brush through a group of 18 year old boys that all remind you of your little brother; not ideal.
Back to the Miss Americas who won this lovely house. It doesn’t matter if you are kind of friendly
with these girls, a couple of them retweet your tweets or if you guys studied
for an accounting final together first semester sophomore year. If you see the girls who own this house, do
not even look them in the eye, don’t even look in their direction. It is THEIR house and in their heart of hearts
they honestly believe they have every right to take a shit on your chest just
because you stepped foot in their house.
You guys are both the same year and just because they signed their names
on a lease that daddy pays for, they are God’s gift to the earth. I’ll be damned if these bitches dared ask me
for 5 dollars to get a red cup and twiddle my thumbs at a kicked keg because
although there’s an extremely strong resemblance to Hulk Hogan, you’re drunk
enough to throw the red cup back in her face and tell her to go fuck herself
sucks about these girls is that they stay sober and as a result are fucking
miserable. They want to throw a party
but then a neighbor calls the cops who tells them to keep the noise down so
they go as far as to yell at a squeaky floor board just to make sure everything
is silent for a bit. They have to stand
at the front door and make sure they get every single 5-dollar bill they
possibly can and if by some chance they let you in because you, “brought your
own drinks” the ultimate threat is delivered, “if I catch you with a red cup in
your hand, you’ll never be allowed in this house again.” Which, let’s be
honest, doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world after the shitty time
you’re about have.