bar-crawl

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Chicago Blackhawks 2015 Stanley Cup Bar Crawl Celebration Vines

she’s a girl of smoke,      the kind to spend the night
bar crawling, except - she’s      been drinking since middle school,
never put the bottle down -      won’t be twenty-one for
three more years.      you’re a girl of paper,
more comfortable in      bookstores than on the street,
the cinnamon smell of       old books, ink staining your fingers.

maybe it was love       at first sight,
maybe it was only      the quiet way pages
go up in flames      when you touch
a match to them.      either way, you know
this would burn out      even if you gave it a chance.

//a.s.w.

anonymous asked:

reader and kara have sex occasionally but they hate each other and can't stand each other but once when their drunk and hooking up their kissing but then kara stops and is like "wait we can't keep doing this we're both gonna get hurt in the end, i know we both have feelings for each other" or something and then you can add

Wait.”

It isn’t a word you usually hear from Kara, especially on the nights she meets you after a bar crawl.  Usually, she comes over after a quick text and the both of you get whatever it is that you’ve been doing over with.  

“What’s wrong?”  You pull back, head swimming from the combined effects of all of the alcohol in your system and how hard Kara had been pulling you against her.  You prop yourself up with an arm on either side of her and wait for an explanation.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she says quietly.  Her breathing is still slightly ragged from kissing you.  “We’re both going to get hurt.  This…this isn’t just sex anymore.  Not for me.”

You go to sit up and consequently slip off of the couch and down onto the carpet.  

“Are you okay?” Kara goes to put a hand on your shoulder and you pull away quickly.

“I think you should go.”

The blonde’s eyes widen and she struggles to choke back the hurt from hearing the cold tone lacing your voice.  You don’t look up, but can hear stand up from your couch and her footsteps on your floor as she quickly exits your house.

sample grad school interview schedule

for anyone curious! my university starts interviews this week and they just sent out a simplified schedule to the current students for our info. of course the actual schedules each recruit will receive will be more detailed.

following the dinner reception on friday is a bar crawl and alternative non-alcoholic event (ex. we take the recruits for fro-yo and then an evening tour of the city)

anonymous asked:

what are some events that could occur in a college rp?

the most obvious one that comes to mind is house parties, but here are some other ideas:

  • carnival/funfair organised by students
  • on the same note, any sponsored event to raise money
  • date auction
  • an extention of the houseparty idea could include themed parties (halloween, valentines, masquerade etc.)
  • a ball/dance (idk, my uni does one every year at the end of the semester so)
  • organised trips for leisure (e.g. disneyland, camping etc)
  • bonfires
  • swimming/surfing/skating contests
  • “battle of the bands”
  • sports competitions/mini olympics
  • greek house parties (ig that’s a thing in the u.s.)
  • bar crawl
  • plays/performances (works well if its a performing arts college, but you could also hsm it and make it compulsory for members to take part as a punishment)
  • open mike/karaoke nights

Getting Drunk at America’s Finest Chain Restaurants

Perhaps it’s my advancing age, my predilection for playing the sourpuss, or merely my growing disinterest in ceremony of any sort, but I’d rather eat in the shit end of a strip mall than get gussied up for a night on the town in the kind of genericly chic hotspots that now litter America’s cities. The lamentations of my colleagues as far afield as London over the insidious creeping dread of gentrification are now as familiar to journalism as Beyonce think-pieces, pointless aggregation of Daily Show clips, and Oxford commas.

We’ve bitched about gentrification’s florid fare and prentitious air of exclusion, but what’s the alternative? The aggressive gourmet flatulence of trendy urban neighborhoods makes me long for the affordable, bland, but comforting chain restaurants of my youth. I’m talking about the kind of place where the ads implore you to “let your hair down,” “unwind,” and “be family." 

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Those sentiments seem trite, but are actually what we crave the most, especially here in America. We want to belong, we want to be accepted, and we want to get drunk on cheap liquor. Those aren’t virtues anymore when fancy gastropubs charge $17 for a burger and $8 for a pint of beer. We are being robbed of the one thing that makes us American: our love of inexpensive, generic bullshit.

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The first Denny’s in Manhattan opened last week, and features a $300 version of their popular Grand Slam meal that comes with a bottle of Dom Perignon. We can’t even pray at the altar of the classic American diner without being reminded of what we don’t have. Are well-heeled day traders in Manhattan going to pop in for bacon and eggs, with a side of champagne? What’s next, a Happy Meal that comes with an XBox? 

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Reveling in popular culture, while also suckling at the sweet, sparkling teat of opulance is de rigueur these days. Restaurants sell gussied up versions of comfort food and charge through the nose for it. But what about just having normal comfort food? Can’t I just pleasure myself on top of a greasy plate of "grub” while knocking back a few discounted Happy Hour beverages? Thatbeautiful disaster exists solely in the safe, sanitized vortex of the suburban chain restaurant.

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