Oh yea, I'm alive and stuff ALTERNATE TITLE: The Yellaphant Magic School Bus edition

Apparently people are starting to worry because it's already Tuesday night and I told you that if you didn't hear from me by Monday, I was probably sitting in a jail cell learning the newest North Baltimore underground handshake from Skinny Pete. But I wasn't arrested. I was just really really really hungover tired. So hungover tired that I've decided once and for all that I am never drinking Jagermeister EVER again which is fine by me because waking up the morning after a night with that drink is pretty much equivalent to waking up with a fat trucker still wearing his wearing flannel shirt with cut off sleeves, a John Deere hat, and dirty tube socks in your bed who you also suspect to have punched you in the face the night before, you know what I mean? You regret it. For at least the next 12 hours.

Friday after work I jumped in a friend's car and headed down to Baltimore with pretty much every other young Loyola College alumni. Blah blah blah Friday night. Blah blah booze and best friends and blah. And then on Saturday afternoon, as I opened up the door to my friend Mojo's car and puked from the backseat onto the busy streets of Federal Hill on our way to get pizza -- because, hello, puking inside the car is so college and I am too mature for that -- I knew that my nights spent throwing back shots of Jager as the bar lights come on were definitely over forever. Luckily, there is still an entire array of liquors that I still consider acceptable to scramble after at last call.

And it was a good thing I didn't exert myself too much on Friday because Saturday was the Big Night. Saturday, at exactly 6:30 p.m., the big yellow school bus arrived. We were on our way to the Bull and Oyster Roast, beetches.



















And the moral of the story is this: my friends are definitely more fun than yours. That's because when it comes to life, they're all definitely on the bus. Tweet