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