10:17 p.m. OMG I love taking tequila shots.
10:25 p.m. I think that was 6? I don’t know, I lost count.
10:32 p.m. Ew that did not go down the right way.
10:33 p.m. Puke.
10:36 p.m. Rally!
10:44 p.m. “Guys, do my boobs look big in this picture? I don’t want to put it in my story unless they look like Sofia Vergara big.”
11:01 p.m. “Let’s go, bitches!!!! It’s time for the baaaarrrrrr!”
11:18 p.m. I am not waiting in this line. If I don’t know anyone at the front I’ll just flirt with that guy in the glasses.
11:27 p.m. “Heyyyyy hot stuff, can my friends and I cut you in line? Aw, thanks, you’re so sweet!” Like taking candy from a baby.
11:31 p.m. Fucking finally. I need a vodka tonic in my mouth right now. Or some pizza. Either way.
11:42 p.m. There are only like three hot guys in this entire bar.
11:48 p.m. “Come on, guys! I want to go dance on stage! It’s like Adam Levine is singing right into my soul.”
12:02 a.m. Is he looking at me? I think he’s looking at me. Okay, I’m going to smile seductively and then look away and laugh like I’m having the best time with my friends.
12:03 a.m. Shit, I look like a hyena.
12:08 a.m. Wait, did that just work? He’s coming over here. Psh, never even doubted myself for a second.
12:09 a.m. What do I say to him? Should I tell him he’s cute? I’m going to pretend I’m not interested.
12:19 a.m. He got me a drink. I think I’m in love.
12:21 a.m. “Of course you can have my number, silly!” Shit, did I really just call him silly?
12:22 a.m. Well, he didn’t seem to notice because apparently my boobs are magnetic or something. I guess they do look as good as Sofia Vergara’s.
12:26 a.m. He’s gone. Ten bucks says I’ll never hear from him again. But, like, was he even really that cute?
12:49 a.m. I need more alcohol.
1:13 a.m. It’s been an hour and he hasn’t texted me. Maybe my boobs don’t look as awesome as I thought.
1:36 a.m. Okay, if I don’t sit down within the next 30 seconds I’m going to take my heels off and chuck them at the nearest bird I can find.
1:41 a.m. Pretty sure it’s not sanitary but I’m taking my shoes off. YOLO, or whatever.
1:50 a.m. I need pizza.
1:52 a.m. This line is literally never-ending.
1:57 a.m. Did that guy just touch my butt? I think he did. He touched my butt.
1:58 a.m. “Excuse me. My body is not just here for you to grab. Who the hell raised you? What makes you think it’s okay to just touch people without their permission.” Down, girl. Off the soapbox. What the hell are you doing?
2:07 a.m. This pizza is the greatest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.
2:23 a.m. Why are we moving? Are we in a cab? I think we’re in a cab.
2:41 a.m. Bed. Mmm.
7:12 a.m. Water. I need water. Now. What time is it?
7:13 a.m. Wait, why do I have 14 text messages, six missed calls, and three missed FaceTimes?
7:14 a.m. Who the hell is ‘the soccer player from the bar’ and why did he text me nine times?
7:17 a.m. Whatever, I’m going back to sleep. I’ll deal with this later.
10:23 a.m. He tried to FaceTime me. Again. This morning.
10:26 a.m. Seriously, though, who the eff is Mr. Soccer Player? I remember approximately nothing after that second vodka tonic.
11:03 a.m. OMG he texted me again. I’m scared to open it.
11:07 a.m. Soccer Boy asked me to go see a movie with him. Go see a movie? Like in public? What, is he like in love with me or something?
11:09 a.m. Okay, I need to say something funny.
11:10 a.m. Something witty?
11:11 a.m. Anything at all?
11:12 a.m. Fuck it, I’m just not going to respond. He’ll get the message. Right?
2:19 p.m. Did he really just text me “Wassup”?
6:12 p.m. How desperate are you if you text someone “Wassup” two times in a row?
9:26 p.m. Another text?! I think he’s stalking me.
9:27 p.m. Oh, it’s just my mom. Hi Mom. Awkward..