For the next couple of days Bwog will be unrolling our daily schedules to give the ED admits to the Class of 2018 a slightly…different…view of the typical Columbian. Up today, another anonymous staffer details her usual Sunday.
1:02 pm: Roll out of bed and vow never to drink again. I chug an entire Nalgene of water and wake up my roommate when I accidentally drop it on the floor mid-gulp.
1:04 pm: Wonder if I’m still drunk from last night. Try to gauge motor-control. Worry about life choices.
1:06 pm: Wonder if it’s possible to be drunk and hungover at the same time. Also, fervently hope the hangover will go away soon.
1:21 pm: It doesn’t. And shit, how did it get so late? I ignore my throbbing head and make my way to the shower.
1:35 pm: Hop out of the shower feeling slightly less nauseous and slightly more clean.
1:37 pm: Notice that one of my shoes from last night is missing. How the hell…?
1:38 pm: Begin search for my missing shoe. Tear apart all 175 square feet of my room because there really aren’t that many places it could be hiding, right? …right?
1:56 pm: Admit defeat in search for missing shoe. I’m simultaneously worried about myself and impressed that I somehow made it home with one shoe.
1:57 pm: Vow to never drink again.
2:02 pm: Make a bowl of cereal and think about how much my head still hurts.
2:13 pm: Stress about the five papers I have due in the next week and the fact that finals are no longer an abstract idea. Decide to blow off some steam by watching an episode of 30 Rock on Netflix.
3:45 pm: Realize with a start that it’s 3:45 pm and all I’ve done with my day is shower and lose a shoe. Throw all your worldly possessions into a bag and hustle to Butler.
3:55 pm: Look for a seat.
4:00 pm: Look for a seat.
4:10 pm: Look for a seat. Fuck finals. Mentally call everyone who has a seat mean names.
4:13 pm: FINALLY find a spot on the fourth floor. The guy sitting next to me smells really weird and the girl across from me is boiling water to make ramen noodles (AT THE DESK), but no force in the world could move me from this goddamn spot.
4:15 pm: Open Facebook.
4:25 pm: Close Facebook and take out a book by my dead-white-man of choice. Bunker down.
8:42 pm: Realize I didn’t have dinner. Buy chips from Butler Café and worry about my health.
11:21 pm: Leave Butler, looking and feeling like a complete zombie.
11:23 pm: Run into that one person I always see when I’m leaving Butler and looking like an undead creature. Wonder if they think I always look this way. Wonder if I actually do always look this way. Wonder if I smell like the fourth floor (i.e. ass). Curse the universe.
11:33 pm: Make myself some pasta and attempt to finish my reading while I eat. Fail. Decide to watch more 30 Rock instead. It’s reading week, it’s justified (right?).
1:16 am: Pass out on my bed, wondering where the hell the weekend went.
Netflix puppy via Wikimedia Commons.
@Anonymous relevant hilarious hairpin: http://thehairpin.com/2011/08/so-youve-decided-to-drink-more-water
@Science It is not possible to be drunk and hungover at the same time
@can't believe nalgene is a fucking unit…lol
@wait whyyyyyyyyyy do you assume this person is white
@Butlerite Everyone knows you NEVER go to the fourth floor of butler. Rookie mistake.
@cc '14 Almost *all* these narratives produce a sense that all people do is get shit-faced, hung over, watch netflix, and pretend to do work in butler… No judgment, but why is this the dominant narrative? Talk about drunk-white-girl story of choice. It worries me that this is the narrative is constantly propagated; there *are* some people who go downtown, drink responsibly, get their work done… hmm.
@yeah but those people are smart enough to not be bwog staffers
@List of burn centers in the United States Ouch.
@beyonce pad thai I have heard tell of these people but believe them to be lies.
@Anonymous how many servings do you think you could get out of beyonce? 30? you would probably have to freeze some if you didn’t share. i feel like it’s something you wouldn’t really want to thaw, though. i dunno. i guess i’ll heat up some mama celeste
@a nonymous beyonce’s thighs can feed the entire African continent.
and that’s WHILE she’s lip-syncing simultaneously.
@Anonymous i see now that this is a pop-culture reference, but i’m still hungry
@"no judgement" you’re judging, but that’s OKAY
@unicorn i go downtown and still manage to drink irresponsibly
@anon Also, she ends up going to Butler for like 7 hours sooooo…..