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Beer Goggles

College is a time of gaining knowledge, getting to know yourself, and getting drunk. Sure, drinking is fun and all, until you wake up the next morning with a headache and puke on your shirt. Next to you is a 300 pound stripper named Sunflower (yes, with a big ass sunflower tattooed around her navel), and your pants around your ankles with some sort of unknown substance spread all over your crotch.

As your rise from the dirty bed that you've never seen in your life, Sunflower comes to and starts to stroke your arm. "Honey, come back to bed, I want to show you a good time." Those words send chills down your spine, so you spring to your feet, but fall flat on your face. That's right dumbass, your pants are still around your ankles. Sunflower starts crying, asking, "what about those promises you made to me last night?" What promises might those be? Well genius, after having that fifth of vodka, you wanted some ass and told the nearest female (Sunflower), that you wanted to be her everything. Those sweet words spewed from your mouth, along with vomit and yesterday's lunch.

After punching Sunflower in the throat to get her away from you, you see your buddy Sammy in the bed across the room, fallen victim to a drunk shaming. Penis drawn on his chest and arm, some kind of rodeo clown design on his face, signifies Sammy had way too much to drink last night since he didn't wake up in the middle of that. Similar scenarios play out all down the hallway of the third floor doom that you don't know how you got to. The hallway looks like a war played out the night before. Bodies thrown everywhere, vomit covers the walls like a bad coat of paint.

Somehow you make it out of the building and in to the parking lot. You reach in your pocket and realize you actually still have your car keys. As you make your way through the parking lot, here comes Sunflower with blood dripping from her mouth and tears running down her face. "You said forever! You said we were meant to be!" One swift roundhouse kick later, Sunflower collapses like her arteries will after one more ho-ho. You can't manage to find your car, so you press the panic button on your keychain to summon a mighty beep from your 1998 Honda Civic, because we all know Civic's are the car of choice for college alcoholics. And there she is...

Slammed in to a parking space somehow is the 1998 Honda Civic you wrecked last night on your way to Sunflower's dorm to get your piece of ass. Sammy walks up behind you and says, "yeah, you were driving pretty crazy last night. You decided to race this guy in a Chevy. Didn't your mom ever tell you that ricers aren't made to race? I always thought they were made to last really long, but looks like you proved that wrong too. " The bad news is you weren't insured, and now you're wanted for vehicular homicide... in 4 states. Before you decided to walk home to tell your parents that you're a failure at life, you look in your backseat and find a Polaroid picture, apparently snapped last night.

Congratulations douche bag. While you were at it, you bludgeoned a girl to death... and took a picture. So now you're not only wanted for vehicular homicide, but good ole fashioned homicide too. Turns out you went on a drunken rampage and wanted to screw this girl in the butt, and she said no. Your anger got the best of you and you let your sledgehammer do the rest. Score.

Way to go. Drink away, Superman. Sunflower will love you for it.