You’re tweeting, snapping, texting, dancing, drinking simultaneously. You’re in the middle of the dance floor breaking it down to Nicki Minaj’ “Starship” with your synchronized dance moves. You’re buying rounds for you and your friends, taking bathroom selfies, laughing at everything. Fourth Phase: The “IDGAF!”Ī personal favorite, the IDGAF phase is when you have completely passed buzzed, and, are running head first towards black out. In your mind, the only way to get to the next level is to take shots, and they’re usually shots of fireball. Your Light Buzz has faded from the cab/train/mom’s minivan ride you just took, and you need to keep the momentum going. Third Phase: The “We Just Got Here, LETS DO SHOTS” You’re proud of yourself for applying your make up without looking like a ratchet whore, and have taken PLENTY of selfies to celebrate your accomplishment. You’re getting ready, applying make up in between sips gulps of vodka and cranberries (or whatever your choice of drink is) and before you know it, you’re three solo cups in and feeling good. It’s 7 o’clock and you all convene at one of your friends’ house you have multiple outfits packed, straighteners, curlers, enough make up to do one of the Real Housewives of New Jersey’s face (you can pick your favorite- personally, I choose Teresa) and of course, vodka. You’re on a mission, and goddammit, you will accomplish it.Īfter a week of incessant hype on social media, including at least one #tbt, your night with your girls finally commences, and this is usually how it goes: 1. On this night, there’s no “drunk crying”, or “therapy sessions” ain’t nobody got time for that. No boyfriends, no outsiders, no hook ups just you and your friends spending a night of getting drunk, and taking blackmail, erhm, I mean, pictures with one another.
White Girl Wasted differs from “getting drunk” for one reason, and one reason only your sole goal on a WGW evening is to have a good time with your girlfriends, and nothing else. (#wgw isn’t about color, it’s about the “how” you got drunk) One of the best parts of being “twenty something” is that, even though we no longer live close to our friends in the quasi-commune that is college, we do get to celebrate being semi-adult every weekend with our girls: Or, as it is more frequently called, a weekend of being, “White Girl Wasted”.
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