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Letters to People: A Drunk Me
BY ZACH GRILL
STATESMAN STAFF WRITER
iISSUE: 78/27
Dear Drunk Me,
Dude, I know you enjoy a good party, but this is getting a little out of control. I’m not a fan of waking up every Saturday next to whatever “dragon” you decided to “slay” the night before. Seriously! The last two girls I woke up with weighed a combined metric ton. Not cool.
I’m not asking you to quit drinking. God knows I enjoy a beer or two myself, but you don’t need to get blackout drunk every time we go out. Not only do you make ill-advised decisions on sexual partners, you eat all of our food and make a huge mess of it.
I’m pretty sure you don’t remember it, but a few weekends ago, I woke up naked with an uneaten Big Mac on my chest. I wasn’t so much disappointed about the wasted burger (Although, I did feel a little like David Hasselhoff.), but more worried about how we got to McDonalds. Judging by the epic hangover I had that morning, I’m guessing you weren’t good to drive. You know what, I don’t even want to know.
You may think you have a reputation to keep and that our friends will look down on you if you don’t hit the sauce like it’s your job, but that’s no excuse for your actions. You are starting to make me look bad, and it needs to stop.
