Holy ass. I am a nineteen year old college freshman, and I am already loathing the fact that my friends are making me go out to party. How much further down on the loserdom scale can I possibly slide? I mean honestly, I'm squeezed in there between that Numa-Numa guy and Jennifer Wilbanks. I'm the true definition of homebody.
These are my defenses for not going out:
A.) They go out on Thursdays, and that's when new episodes of "The Office" comes on.
B.) I have 9 o'clock classes. I may be a morning person, but not that much of a morning person. I'm not built to stay up til' three in the morning and then get up at the ass-crack of dawn to go learn Spanish.
C.) I can't dance. The only thing you can do at these places are drink and dance. I'm not legally allowed to do the first one and I can't do the latter. I'm screwed both ways.
D.) I'm not gonna know many people there. And it's kind of hard to make conversation with other people when they're either drunk or attached to the face of someone else.
E.) I'm BROKE. As usual. So what's the point of paying ten bucks to get into a place where all I'm gonna do is sit around and stare at drunk people grinding against other drunk people?
I'm not bashing clubs-- they're fun most of the time! I'm just saying that tonight, I'm not really in the mood. But alas...the fates frown upon me and are putting me in quite a pickle: either go and suffer through the night, or stay at home and piss off your friends.
So what to do? What to do? My suite-mate is already thinking I'm gonna flake out on her... Well just call me Corn-Flake, kiddo!
That's my rant for the day.
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