The Frat Boy-Type. Kinda always trying to bone someone before the end of the night. Pounded like, 20 beers. Probably wakes up with someone they thought was hotter/prettier when drunk.
Ditzy-Drunk Type. Girl who constantly compliments you and leans on your boyfriends shoulder and basically flirt w/ everyone and asks shit like "What's Aleppo?"
Toilet-Hugger. You don't *usually* get drunk, but tonight you did. At first you were socializing, and somehow, you ended up hunched over the toilet puking. You havent left. Your bestfriend almost puked in your hair. One time, she did.
Expresso Depresso. "No, I don't always drink when I'm sad." You kinda just came to the party to "escape". You don't want to be here, and in every movie EVER, you find some goth bitch to complain about existence with. That, or you're in a bar wanting to die cause your wife left you. Your choice, i guess.
Game Maker. You're the asshole who suggests 7 Minutes in Heaven, Truth or Dare, and other shitty games at middle school parties where someone found some Mike's Hard Lemonade. You still get drunk off of the shit, too. Somehow.
Socialite. You don't really get drunk. You just get buzzed, and go home. You talk to everyone and anyone, and get as many numbers as possible. You're quite the hook up when it comes to some drugs at a party, though.
Hoe. You're the girl who compliments everyone and smiles at everything. You also basically wanna suck someone's dick before the night ends. Who's? Idk.
Dirty Dancer. Someone complained about there "being too many clothed people" at the party. So, you took your clothes off, threw them at the person, and began dancing. Truly a Titty Hero.
Drunk "Driver". You're the guy who suggests they go on an adventure, or brought tons of booze to do some really illegal shit. As a kid, you literally drank just because "if we're doing something illegal, may as well do two!!"
Bartender. Nobody really appointed you bartender. Nobody really asked, either. But, nobody is complaining. You make the best booze, and the more YOU drink, the funnier, quicker, and cuter the drinks are made. By the end of the night, the drink counter looks a bit like a Scorpio's room -- clothes all over the floor in order to mop some mysterious liquid up.
Royal Rebel. Drink the keg. Bring the big ass case of booze. Make some kid puke. And then do it again. Dare devil galore, and kind of an asshole about it. That, or stays in the corner like they may make the party into a murder scene. One or the other.
Just like Taurus, but also drinks twice her weight and probably asks "Where's the weeeeeeEEEeeedd???" 20 times.
You know those drinks that come in a glass bottle with a black, hipster-y label? And it’s named after some generic white guy and the description on the back is like “I’m just a normal guy who wants to sell tasty, refreshing drinks. Yeah.” and there are Relatable Quotes™ plastered all over it and then when you take a sip it’s way stronger tasting than you’d expect
OKAY SO YOU WANT TO GET DRUNK RIGHT? OF COURSE YOU DO. YOU’RE OF AGE AND READY TO TAKE A LOAD OFF. THIS DRINK IS FOR ANYONE WHO KNOWS THE WOES OF THE WORK WEEK.
TECHNICALLY THIS DRINK IS SPIKED STRAWBERRY PUNCH, BUT IT WAS MADE WITH MIKE’S AND AMSTERDAM VODKA.
SO SOUND THE WAR HORN IT’S TIME TO FORAGE.
HERE’S WHAT YOU NEED TO RAID AND/OR PURCHASE
THIS MAKES TWO DRINKS BECAUSE YOU’RE OUT TO PILLAGE AND YOUR SECOND IN COMMAND NEEDS A DRINK AS WELL
SIX-EIGHT WHOLE STRAWBERRIES.
A WHOLE LEMON.
TWO CANS OF MIKE’S HARD LEMONADE.
THE TOOLS YOU’LL NEED ARE
HERE’S WHAT THE FUCK YOU DO.
TAKE YOUR LEMON AND BODY SLAM IT TO MAKE IT JUICIER. WHILE IT THINKS ABOUT THE MISTAKES IT’S MADE MOVE ON TO THE STRAWBERRIES.
SHAKE YOUR FIST AT THE STRAWBERRIES, PRETENDING IT’S YOUR BOSS AND SCREAM TO THEM WHAT YOU REALLY FEEL ABOUT YOUR JOB.
THEN CUT TOPS OF STRAWBERRIES OFF LIKE YOU’RE REMOVING YOUR BOSS’S HEAD, AND SLICE THEM IN HALF. PUT IN BOTTOM OF EMPTY SHAKER. GRIND YOUR BOSS INTO A FINE PULP WITH THE PESTLE.
TAKE THE LEMON YOU DEFEATED IN COMBAT AND CUT IT IN HALF, SLICE OFF TWO SLICES TO GARNISH YOUR DRINKS WITH LATER. FANCY AS FUCK.
PRETEND YOU’RE WRINGING THE THROAT OF THE LAST CUSTOMER WHO COMPLAINED TO YOU AND SQUEEZE ALL THE JUICE OUT OF THE LEMON. DON’T WORRY ABOUT SEEDS. THEY’RE TOO AFRAID OF YOU TO FALL INTO THE DRINK ANYWAYS.
ADD ICE BECAUSE YOU NEED TO SYMBOLICALLY REPRESENT THE LAYER OF ICE THAT HAS FORMED OVER YOUR HEART SINCE STARTING CUSTOMER SERVICE.
JUST POUR IT.
SHAKE YOUR CONCOCTION VIGOROUSLY. AS IF YOU’RE RATTLING THE HEADS OF YOUR CORPORATE BOSSES TRYING TO MAKE THEM UNDERSTAND WHY THEIR NEW POLICY SUCKS.
PRACTICE YOUR DELEGATION SKILLS AND MAKE THE GLASSES RIM THEMSELVES WHILE YOU’RE SHAKING. LOWER FUCKING MANAGEMENT EXPERIENCE MOTHERFUCKERS.
POUR YOUR CONCOCTION INTO YOUR GLASSES, CAREFUL NOT TO RUIN THEIR RIM. THE GLASSES WORKED HARD. APPRECIATE YOUR SUBORDINATES.
TOP WITH MIKE’S HARD LEMONADE. ADD THE LEMONS TO THE TOP OF THE DRINK AND PUT A STRAW THROUGH THE MIDDLE. WHY? BECAUSE IT’S THE FUCKING POLICY. I DON’T KNOW. I JUST WORK HERE. FUCK.