Drunk/Drunk/Sober/High/Crossfaded: Frosh Ball

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The BlogBabies were itching to get in on the Drunk/Sober/High action, and what’s more freshman than a Frosh Ball? Given that freshmen only roam in packs, we found it appropriate to expand the usual three person group by adding two new members, Crossfaded and another Drunk! We present the first ever Drunk/Drunk/Sober/High/Crossfaded.

Since no one ever shows up on time, we all agreed to meet at 10:00 p.m. to do our respective imbibing and/or smoking (or neither, poor Sober). 

10:03 p.m. Cross has already taken 3 shots by the time the rest of the BlogBabies arrive. She has been feeling nauseous and hungover all day, so she did not eat dinner. Not her best decision.

10:05 p.m. High shows up already pretty high because he “comes prepared.” For additional preparation, as he tells us later, he watched “a shit load of Ru Paul’s Drag Race before [he] came.”

In a rare turn of events for D/S/H, Sober is the last to arrive… prepared with her journalistic integrity and iPhone for notes.

Very quickly, Cross and High decide they need to be high/higher, respectively, and so commences the search for an appropriate place to smoke. In response to the suggestion of the trash room, High notes that “It is where I belong.”

10:14 p.m. We’ve found a room willing to host us.

10:16 p.m. Cross is fairly drunk now that she’s about 6 shots in. She’s pleased with herself for being functional enough to prep her bong.

C: Aren’t you always amazed when you see drunk people roll just the nicest jays ever? Muscle memory, man!

H: It looks like an Erlenmeyer flask. Would you like to meet my bowl, Venus? Looks like the atmosphere of Venus.

Drunk 1: Wait, how do you know that?

H:  I don’t know, I haven’t been there.

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Apparently this is Venus’    atmosphere. High’s bowl looked nothing like this.

10:32 p.m. Sober realizes that everyone is saying “Bojangles” for some unbeknownst reason and is once again realizing she is way too sober to deal with everyone.

Cross is staring at them while they go over the pronunciation of this weird word. She says nothing because she has NO idea what bojangles is. Is it the name of a famous clown like Bozo? A chain food place? A TV character? Continue Reading


Drunk/Sober/High: Mister Sister

One snowy Saturday, three bloggers decided to get drunk, sober, and high and go to Sky Zone Indoor Trampoline Park. Upon arrival, they were informed that the wait time was over two hours. After contemplating bribing small children with candy for their special orange Sky Zone socks or sneaking into an 8-year-old’s birthday party, they decided it would be best to put their jumping plans on hold. What was Plan B, you might ask? No, not ceramics painting, or attending the Providence Children’s Museum. The bloggers decided to venture to Wickenden Street’s own sex shop, Mister Sister. There, they stumbled upon a variety of edible sex items and decided to try–or in this case just taste–them. 

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A taste (get it?!) of what’s to come…

High: I’ve been to Mister Sister before (guilty), but never bought anything. I think I might want to touch everything. I hope the employee working there can’t tell I’m high. Wow, I never realized how many random fucking fast food restaurants there are in Rhode Island.

This place is awesome and freaky at the same time. If you’ve never been in, you should go. I’ve always wondered why we have a campus sex shop and not, like, a chopped salad restaurant. I know those things are completely unrelated, but I think I’m still angry about Skewers. Such a waste of space.

Drunk: I didn’t realize just how many shapes could be transformed into a vibrator. Some look like small pebbles that you could skip across a river, while others resemble Gumby. Christian’s Grey’s character makes more sense after flipping boxes to find the price tags – most “toys” were $60+. My budget doesn’t really cover kinky at the moment.

Sober: Drunk is giggling to herself. High keeps touching everything, which for some reason makes me uncomfortable even though I know the display products are clean. Some of these vibrators are so small and cute!!!

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Sextion: Your Guide to Booty Call Texting

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People who attended college before the advent of cell phones had it much harder, at least in the booty call department. While our parents didn’t have to worry about embarrassing photos being posted online, and gossip had to be passed on old school (i.e. via whispers, not Facebook chat), the previous generations never got to experience the emotions and regret that come from reading through your texts the morning after a night of drinking.

Before you claim that texting drunk is dangerous, a bad thing, something to get you into trouble, etc. (which obviously it can), you have to think about how beneficial it can be, most notably for its complete restructuring of the late night hookup game.

Because, let’s be real. Drunk texts are just inebriated poetry.

Once upon a time, college students had to deal with drunken romantic gestures in order to get a potential hookup’s attention. Now, your booty call is just a few clicks or swipes away.

However, because of the somewhat complex nature of drunk texting, several gray areas do exist. Telling the difference between a text that screams, “Let’s get it on” and one that says “Let’s cuddle while you wallow in the friend zone” is actually more complicated than it seems. Here are a few examples of our reads on particular situations.

“Heyy” – The double use of the “y” obviously means he or she is interested in something more than just saying “hi,” but it doesn’t mean you have the green light. If you play your cards right, you might not be spending tonight alone.

“Come over” – Translation: I want you. Now.

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Facebook becomes even more awkward with new “Ask” feature

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As of now, “Senior Scrambling” is not a relationship option.

In the prehistoric era of Facebook (circa 2010), many of us learned that we were better off keeping our relationship statuses private. We avoided lots of inadvertently-public break ups that marked the dark ages of early high school, and we also stopped getting ourselves into misleading “civil unions” with our BFFs. One negative aspect of this movement towards internet privacy: obviously, you can no longer tell if your prospects are single or taken. Sure, you could hardcore stalk their pictures and speculate whether the person they were cuddling with on Spring Weekend is in fact their lover, but you can’t be positive. Maybe, for just a second, you have wished that everyone’s relationship status was public again, like the “good old days” or like a traffic light party in the basement of Caswell. Hopefully, you then came to your senses and realized that someone else’s love life is none of your f***ing business.

Facebook, getting its main form of sustenance from things that should be private, has launched a new button next to any hidden personal information called “ask.” The ask button sends a notification to the person you are stalking curious about, notifying them that you have requested to see the answer to this unknown detail. You can send a message along with the request, like: “Hey, I know we haven’t spoken since high school, but I wanted to know where you live.” Because that is not creepy at all.

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When this person of interest receives this notification, they can choose to update this information, either publicly, or by default – only to you. The default option creates a really weird life event in their timeline that only you can see/comment on. The subject of inquiry also has the option to not update their info, and just send a message back, like: “Go to hell you nosy biotch.” Below is a screenshot of the private life event that came to be when I totally platonically asked my fellow staff writer about her relationship status: Continue Reading


DSA: Drunk Shopaholics Anonymous

To my fellow Brunonians:

Recently, I’ve come to a sobering realization. I’m writing today to confess something: I have a dark secret. It’s taken me four semesters to admit it, but I have a serious problem.

I didn’t recognize it for what it was at first. Sure, it was eating up my time, my money, but goddamnit I can stop whenever I want to!

It starts with a couple beers. A shot of tequila or vodka, maybe. Perhaps some mixed drinks. Seems pretty harmless. You’ve actually dressed up and put some makeup on. You go out. Drink some jungle juice. Now you’re bored, so you go home. Alone. Suddenly, you’re online. You can’t stop browsing. Click click click.

Before you know it, it’s 7 a.m. and the athletes are rising for practice.

No, my addiction is not porn. It’s much more sinister than your weekly boner jams. My porn is Amazon.com, eBay, Macy’s and Forever21.com. I am a Drunk Shopaholic, and PayPal is my enabler.

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