I see nothing shameful about getting some. We all know the purpose of college is to find out what you like to do, and I think it should be your personal ambition to find out just how much you like leaving the bar with someone after a couple shots of whiskey. If you think your undergrad degree is intended to teach life skills you are shamefully misinformed.

Walks of shame are a win on all fronts. He likes it, you like it, the people driving that see you carrying your heels along the side of the road like it. He gets to pretend he wasn’t blackout, recieve a slew of high fives and fist pumps, and has the short lived confidence to leave his frat house in day light again. Besides a free one way ticket to pound town, girls may also obtain a pair of running shorts, sweat pants, or a beloved Sober Monitor t-shirt. More often than not a lady won’t even work up a bar tab. You can bet your bottom dollar that if I have to listen about your fantasy football league all night, until you grow balls to ask me if I am ready to leave, then you better get me pretty liquored up first. Here’s a hint, the more I nod my head the less I actually care and am actually making a mental list of all the fishbowls I still have to try before I graduate. If her friends don’t thumbs down you or say she can’t talk to you because its girls night, within the first five seconds of walking in her general direction, you’re pretty much in. Truth be told girls night goes from lets paint our nails and watch He’s Just Not that into You, to lets forget about how average our daily lives are and get hit on for a confidence boost faster than you can say “self-esteem”.

Not only do girls expand their wardrobes to include something more than quarter zips and yoga pants, depending on the walking distance from a senior house to their island they may also fulfill the thirty minutes of cardio that would usually be done on an elliptical while reading Cosmo / Twilight. Ugh I hate sweatingguh. I have actually given an inpromtu tour to a set of parents and their daughter on my way home my sophomore year. They wanted to know where all the sorority houses were, if only they knew their daughter would be in my shoes next year at this exact time with a question like that. Well not really in my shoes so to speak, seeing as most walks of shame carry their heels home and walk barefoot, which in itself, is a challenge. I think thats how those chicks in the final four on Survivor would prepare to walk across hot coals, just get railed by a some guy in the town over and walk home. Walking across something warm would be like walking on cotton candy compared to the shit you have to dodge walking across a Big Ten campus. More often than not I find myself basically hop scotching back to dodge bits of glass and vom from bitches who can’t hold their booze- whatevs, glad one of us had dinner last night.

Since I work weekends I have had the sparkling opportunity to watch many girls walk home- heels / spanx in hand, using their thong as a sort of pony tail hair tie. I applaud you ladies on your inventfulness, who says there is no hope for our generation? Just look at the spandex clad females around you- making dads everywhere proud as a peach. That hoe in the black / mesh American Apprel dress could be the first lady president of our great nation, aim high ladies, aim high.

I prefer to call leaving some guys house at seven am to walk home, even though he has a car and is “late for work”, a stride of pride. Just because a girl is wearing the same thing she wore before doesn’t mean she got a little action either. I am as far from domestic as they come, so naturally I put off “laundry” for as long as possible, and find myself wearing the same outfit to sleep and or work and or class. By laundry I mean wearing something until the stench  / stains are so bad I just toss it all in a garbage can and torch it. I bet you all want to sleep with me now after painting that visual Monet in your mind, huh?

In conclusion, the next time you see a ginger walking along the road in the early AM give her a honk, I’ll be sure to give you a good ‘ol fashioned one finger salute, because I know you’re jealous; and I just really want my McDonalds breakfast.