1. Mad Men is coming back in a month — a month!! — and all of those back episodes of Don Draper looking sexy and morally repulsive (which somehow makes him sexier) are not going to re-watch themselves. Though, truth be told, I’ve always been a Pete girl, Don Draper smoldering unwatched in his DVD case is like the silent tree falling in the forest. Don’t make his hyper masculine appeal be all for naught. Watch them. Also, you know, Christina Hendricks’ boobs.
2. The text message “I know you’re probably not going to respond, but I just want to tell you I miss you.” is NEVER a good text. When will we understand this as a society?!?! And why is this text, which should require more clarity of mind and understanding of context than any other text in the world, always sent after no fewer than 5 vodka cranberries? Save ourselves from this incredibly awkward fate, if only for once this year.
3. Don’t you want at least one Saturday morning where you’re not caught in that hellish limbo — the one where your hair/ eyeballs hurt too much to move out of your bed, but you’re so thirsty you’re one step away from Bear Grylls-ing yourself right where you lay? Even if you don’t remember how bad it is now (the most frustrating aspect of hangovers, undoubtedly), trust me, when it happens, you’ll be making deals with every diety you’ve never believed in to bring you a can of Coke and maybe some french fries while they’re at it.
4. Look, I know how much we all adore that feeling when we wake up and look through our tear-filled eyes at our hacked-to-pieces checking account, but if we could avoid it just for a little bit, our bills would thank us so much. Rent seems so far away now, but don’t leave yourself at the end of the month deciding between rent and all that “food” we’ve heard so much about.
5. If you’re invited to a party where you know almost no one, be forewarned: there is only a 39.5 percent chance there will be a cool house pet there for you to hang out in the corner with. The only living creature who will dislike the loud noises and strangers as much as you, the bond that stands to be formed if the pet is there is a strong one, but this risk is just too much to take this weekend. Better play it safe and just look at pictures of potential animal-friends online.
6. Valentine’s Day is on Tuesday, man, and we just need to emotionally prepare for it. While next weekend is clearly the one to buy all of the Forever Alone On Sale Leftover Chocolate Boxes, this one is to break out the box of wine and celebrate all that is anti-sentimental to combat the upcoming Hallmark fauxliday. I recommend burning a Nicholas Sparks novel and eating a bloody steak with your hands.
7. Loud clubs are loud. Let’s just admit fully one weekend that there are only two experiences when in a club in relation to the music: a) “HOLY HELL THIS SH-T IS SO LOUD I CAN’T TELL IF I HAVE TO PEE ANYMORE WAIT WHAT DID YOU SAY” b) “[incoherent scream] THIS IS MY SONG OH MY GOD ARE THEY SERIOUS WITH THIS I KNOW EVERY STEP TO THE CUPID SHUFFLE GET OUT OF MY WAY SARAH IT’S MY TIME TO SHINE” In all reality, we don’t actually like these songs that much — in fact, with most of them, if they came up on our shuffle we would sort of cringe and press next. It’s just the goblin witchcraft combination of alcohol and strobe lights that makes us suckers for all that is terrible top 40.
8. Girl, your new dress is cute. You’re right. But why not take it somewhere where it can be actually appreciated with lighting, sobriety, and some level of taste amongst passersby. The last place that cute Zara number is going to get its proper respect is in a dive bar surrounded by the frat boy equivalent of Orcs. Maybe take it out to lunch on Saturday, and it might not finish its first night covered in vodka and sweat.
9. You may convince yourself, as you have on previous occasions, that it is ever appropriate to pay a cover going into a bar. An establishment that charges you 20 dollars to stand in it is not an establishment deserving of your patronage, and you are only capable of understanding this while sober. Tattoo this information on your forearm, perhaps, for the next time you’re standing in front of an extremely lame bar that happens to have a minuscule dance floor and is demanding a ten spot from you to walk in. No, no, no, no, no, no.
10. Do you really want to finish the night eating a Jumbo Slice by yourself, or finishing off a 20-pack of Chicken McNuggets on the curb outside of a McDonald’s as your shoes lie somewhere off in the grass? Okay, you know what? Maybe that’s the reason to go out. If you do, pick up a Jumbo Slice for me. Thanks, bro.