It’s Christmas Eve and I’m hungover.
Christmas Eve-Eve strikes again!
It’s my favorite non-holiday of the year. I always spend it with my best friend that I’ve known since pre-school.
Oddly enough, it’s usually been a night where something major has happened in one of our lives. Whether good or bad. One year it was a sprained ankle. One year it was a party with friends that ended in a sleepover.
This year, being the first one that we were both old enough to legally drink, we made it a big one.
We got a hotel room in Atlantic City and destroyed our livers a little more.
So, today, while I do my family celebrations, I will also be nursing this extraordinary Christmas Eve-Eve Illness. It’s only proof that I had an awesome night with my best friend.
So you get yourself all costumed up:
And naturally, you pound shots with friends at the bar:
Somehow, 6 mixed drinks later, you spot a man (or woman, whatever you’re into) in a costume that matches or is a compliment to yours (I.E., I find someone dressed as Harry Potter when I go as Hermione) and you’re like:
And you rationalize:
And your friends are like:
And you walk up to the person with swagger because you both know it:
When you come back to your friends after you make out with the stranger in the middle of the dance floor, you’re like:
And you all continue on with your night, dancing away and having the time of your lives:
And then when Monday rolls around and you find out that the mystery man was a guy from your writing class:
Happy Halloween to my Creepy Fanz! See you Monday in writing class! XO, Maz
Sometimes I do things.
Sometimes I do things that I definitely know that I should not do.
And damn it, it feels good.
Sometimes when I know I shouldn’t be eating carbs, I’ll have pizza.
Sometimes when I know I should really not hit the snooze button again, I do it anyway, because what’s another 9 minutes in the grand scheme of things?
Sometimes when I know it’s questionable if I should go on the blind date with a Tinder rando, I still go (but I tell my friends where I’m going and send them pics of his Tinder profile in case I go missing, watch out Tinder killers, I’m on to you).
Sometimes I watch American Horror Story late at night when no one is home, even though I know I’ll have to turn on all of the lights just to walk from one room to the next and consequently pay the electric bill.
Sometimes I crack open that second bottle of wine, even when I know that I probably shouldn’t have drank the first one in its entirety.
But you know what; bad choices often lead to great stories. Say yes to all the questionable things in your life. Rebel against the norm because why not?
Well, 21 has been cool; but not necessarily everything that I’d hoped it would be. And I think I know why.
Everything is a flashback to how much better English bars and clubs were.
Getting ready to go-
Ordering a Drink-
Getting hit on-
Getting offered a drink-
End of the night-
I have come to discover that there are people in my life that I just don’t like. Why? Because they are judge-y little pr*cks. That’s why.
Like, if I am living my life and doing my own thing, what does it matter to you what I do? I just don’t understand.
If I am going out and making a fool of myself in a safe and funny way that doesn’t embarrass me, why should it embarrass you? Don’t belittle me. Don’t try to make me feel poorly just because you take it on yourself to have a sh*t time and be a wet blanket, don’t drag me down with you.
I am a firm believer of: if you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.
And I don’t even consider my “going out” persona to be “my worst.” She’s just a little bit crazy and tons of fun. But if you can’t hang, GTFO.
How was your birthday?
Wild. My birthday lasted from Tuesday until Sunday morning and I had the wickedest hangover of my entire life all day yesterday into this glorious Monday morning.
Thanks for asking.
Questions, comments, concerns, jokes? Place them in my anonymous ask box:
Here’s a little GIFy story to explain how most of my week has been going.
The second I wake up:
But, I go anyway because school is important. So then I walk into class and see all the people that have been coming out with me for the past 3 nights:
When the professor asks if we’re all hungover:
Because 8 jagerbombs later:
But then I just laugh and laugh and laugh because actually we aren’t hungover:
So, the solution?
Great idea? Probably not. But: