Or: twenty very solid reasons I probably should have gone to college on the east coast.
For those of you who don’t know, drinking in Southern California, where we so fortunately lack any efficient form of public transportation, is difficult. It’s more of a mission, really, involving not just going out and getting sh*tfaced, but also debating over who’ll be DD, stealing people’s keys and waking up, after your keys have been stolen, passed out and sprawled all over a stranger’s living room floor.
Finally, if you are one of the lucky ones who’ve managed to make it through a weekend headache-free, you’ll spend the next five days looking forward to next Friday, when you’ll do the whole thing over again.
Or we could all just wise up and move to New York and be done with all the nonsense. Whaddyasay?