1. The holidays
The holidays exist under the pretense of the two C’s: Consumerism and Christianity. But I think the real reason why they were invented was just so you could get super wasted with your family once or twice a year without feeling weird about it. Look, I don’t care how great your relationship is with your mom, dad, and siblings. The second the holidays roll around, you’re going to be grabbing for that bottle and asking for a refill in 20 minutes. Since my family doesn’t drink, I usually have to resort to “borrowing” some of their pills to make it through Christmas dinner. Last year, for example, my stepmom already had two metldowns before food was even served, so I was just like, “Screw this. I’m going to the Farmacia!” and migrated to their upstairs bathroom to see what I was working with. I opened up their medicine cabinet and was basically like “eeny meeny miny mo” before landing on the jackpot, which was a bottle of Vicodin. I immediately took three of them and wandered downstairs, not caring that my little brother had been having a three-hour tantrum, and sat down at the dinner table smiling like a Jack-O-Lantern. My dad looked at me funny and asked if I was drunk and I told him I wasn’t, which was the truth! Unsurprisingly, Christmas dinner turned out to be a dramatic spectacle involving tears and lasagna but I didn’t care because my brain was throwing the most amazing party and I was the VIP guest!
2. Magic Mike
I never go to the movies drunk because, hi, it’s too expensive to waste on being wasted, but I will make an exception for when I go to see the upcoming stripper movie, Magic Mike. When I first saw the trailer, I felt like I was already wasted on assless chaps and American dreams, so actually bringing a flask to the movie seems only natural. I, for one, am excited to see confirmed homosexual, Matt Bomer, rub against a pole in little to no clothing. I mean, what a lucky man he is to work on a movie that just involved him watching Channing Tatum and the sexy werewolf guy from True Blood get naked. “I’m going Method for this one, y’all! Who wants to join me?!”
If you’re getting married, I’m getting wasted. Deal? And don’t judge me when I’m going back for fourths at the buffet, okay? I’m just emotional because I’ve been put at the “Singles” table and my only options for hooking up are a gay guy with entertainment streaks and someone’s 19-year-old brother. Is there anything #darker than the “Singles’ table at a wedding, anyway? You get married. I get Patron. It’s only fair.
4. Going to a party where your ex is going to be
Oh really? My ex is here? Really? Well, will someone find my new boyfriend, Skinny Girl Margarita? Thanks. Now I’m going to power drink in the corner until I muster up enough courage to go up to him and start singing “My Favorite Mistake” by Sheryl Crow.
Let’s not pretend here, waxing hurts like hell. It basically feels like a dominatrix is torturing you, 50 Shades Of Grey style, so I think you’re entitled to show up to your appointment a little buzzed from brunch. The first time I got waxed, I took a Percocet and was fortunate enough to fall asleep midway through. The next time I went, I took a Xanax instead and the same thing happened again. At this point, my waxer must think that I’m narcoleptic or a total junkie — both of which are thankfully not true. I’m just a wimp when it comes to pain!