Ugh. It’s only the second day of classes and already my professor is assigning full chapters to read. I promised myself this summer that I would buckle down and work hard, but that’s way easier said than done. Seriously, I would rather do anything than actually read what we’re supposed to for the next class.
- Daily mandatory recruitment practice.
- Bedazzle each empty bottle of wine that is lining the top of my kitchen counters.
- And in the process, burn off each one of my fingerprints with a hot glue gun.
- Relive every breakup I’ve ever had.
- Wear heels to class that is in the farthest building on campus.
- Teach a dog to read.
- Go a year without Diet Coke.
- Individually coat each eyelash with mascara.
- Never break 100 Instagram likes again.
- Never get any Instagram likes again.
- Lose my ability to shotgun a beer like a champ.
- Watch door stack videos on repeat for 48 hours straight.
- Have to shave my legs every two hours.
- Attend a Pure Barre class.
- Attend a yoga class.
- Attend any group exercise class.
- Fail to do a pull up in front of a class of judgmental middle schoolers.
- Let my incompetent cousin practice perming on my hair.
- Never be able to find a date to formal again.
- Be allergic to peanut butter.
- Accidentally send my professor a nudie.
- Have a month long period.
- Count out loud from 1 to 138,573 by 3s.
- Have my parents give me “The Talk” again in full detail.
- Give a blow job.
- Only go to underaged bars.
- Delete Facetune.
- Have an 8 a.m. class on Fridays.
- Write a list of horrible things that I’d rather do than the reading..