Equations

Jenna Marbles talks about drunk girls. Start watching her videos right now if you haven’t already. She’s one of my favorites.

Last night WE were the drunk bitches.

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We started at 58 Degrees & Holding with a few different whites and a fabulous cheese platter (completely gone in this picture). One glass turned into two which turned into…

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THESE!!!! Pumpkin-fried-ball-thingys (Name by Danger) at The Press Bistro. First we ordered 6 tapas. Then:

“Can we get 3 more plates of those pumpkin-fried-ball-thingys?”

“Sure!”

5 minutes later our waiter comes back… “Do you want three balls or three plates?”

All three of us in unison: “PLATES!”

Yep… we were those girls.

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One carafe turned into two.

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See! THREE tapa trios and TWO carafe’s.

There is a very fine line between being the “drunk bitches” and being just a flat out “drunk hoe” in a bar. Last night I learned something, the key to preventing yourself from becoming the drunk hoe doesn’t really have anything to do with how you act (unless you’re screaming and dancing on tables — well, then, we have some other issues that I can’t address). In fact, it’s all in how much you woo your server from the beginning. This server must be a male. He doesn’t have to be straight, he just needs a penis. This formula that I’ve come up with doesn’t mean you can go on being a psycho-snookie-girl, it just means that whatever you say and do is forgiven and acceptable. For example:

Be EXTRA happy when the server comes to greet you.

“HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII !!!!!!!” — As if he’s God himself. Or think about how you would have reacted if you were 5 years old and Cinderella just showed up at your house to have dinner with you. Yes, that kind of excitement.

And smile a lot and flip your hair, be really girly. But then when he asks you what you want to drink. You don’t order a yagerbomb. No. You say, “Well, I think I’ll stick to white tonight, what are your suggestions?” The key here is that now he knows you’ve already been drinking, and he’s flattered that you want his advice.

Hooked.

Then when he comes to bring you your carafe of the cheapest “house” wine they have (because HE suggested it) you begin talking about “drunk bitches.” It’s like when you get made fun of a lot for something and then you turn it around and make fun of yourself. For example, because of my last name, I get the, “Ohhhhh, like McFlurry!?!?! AAHHAHAHAHAH!” I’m like, “Yeah. Like a McFleury. Ha. Ha. You’re so original.” But instead I beat them to the punch and I say, “My last name is ____, like a McFlurry.” Now they’re stumped because they wish they would have said it first. Ha. Gotcha Bitch.

So now that we’re openly making fun of “drunk bitches” with our waiter, we’re golden.  And… free to take pictures of your band aids, like this one:

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Me: “Danger, WHAT is on your finger?”

Danger: “A band aid.”

Me: “What happend? Why? What?”

Danger/Me: Laughing hysterically and now taking pictures of it.

Welp. Guys. Moral of the story, it’s okay to be a drunk bitch. Just be very precise about it. Know what you’re getting yourself into. And then when it’s only you and another couple left in the restaurant, leave before they do. And thank the staff that are still there cleaning up. OH! And don’t forget… Ask THEM what they’re drinking when they get off work. It helps remind them that they’re almost done working.

You’re welcome.

XO

Paisley

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