One of the biggest struggles facing collegiate women today is how to procure alcohol. I remember the days when I was a bright-eyed freshman who didn’t know my Johnny Walker from my Evan Williams. I may have been completely ignorant about alcohol, but at least I was never a little shit who had to ask someone else to get it for me. I had my older sister’s real ID, and damn did we look like twins. Now, at a downright geriatric 22, I’m the one getting hey-mistered by random freshmen and sophomores. While I know this is all ~illegal~, it still happens, sorry Uncle Sam. And if you’re one of the youngsters reading this, about to text your pledge sister’s twin’s big to ask for booze, follow these rules and she might not hate you.
DO: Ask early in the week.
If you know that you’re trying to get plastered at a swap on Thursday, go to a band party on Friday, and kill it at game day on Saturday, plan ahead. If you text me in advance, I’ll appreciate it, and be way more likely to say yes. Don’t find me at dinner at 5 on Thursday and ask if I can get you a case of Four Lokos (what is wrong with you, btw) by 8. Fuck you. The worst sin ever, and this has literally happened to me, was a girl texted me at 9 am on gameday asking for alcohol. BLESS. HER. HEART.
DON’T: Shortchange me.
There is such a thing as the internet, where you can look up the price and size of the alcohol you want. What a time to be alive! Do that. Look it up, and have the correct amount of money. Don’t forget that a thing called tax exists, and that if I have to cover even a penny of your shit, I will never buy for you again. And I will keep the change, you know, since I am committing a crime for you. Don’t even think about asking for it back.
DON’T: Be sketchy about where to pick it up.
Either you come to me, or I’ll go to you, but really, you’ll come to me, because you’re the one who wants the booze. Don’t ask me to meet you in a parking lot or on a corner like I’m some kind of hooker. The easiest way to get around having to meet up at all is just to pick me up, drive me to the liquor store, and then wait in the car, so we can have a normal criminal/getaway driver relationship.
DO: Chill the fuck out about your fake.
Don’t ever ask me for something at the big kid liquor store that you could easily get at the sketchy gas station. Every college town has two kinds of booze establishments. There’s the legit store, where your underage ass won’t dare set foot, and the beer-wine gas station type store run by some mildly pervy foreign guy who will 100% of the time accept even the shittiest of fakes as long as your money’s green. Call me if you need liquor that isn’t sold at the latter. If you want Moscato, André, or any kind of hellacious Lime-A-Rita/Four Loko/Hangover in a Can, nut up and go get it yourself, or have literally anyone else with a fake go get it. Don’t waste my time.
DON’T: Ask me to buy for you, your roommate, your twin, her boyfriend, and his 78 pledge brothers.
If I can’t carry it comfortably in two hands, you’re shit out of luck, girlie.
DO: Say thank you.
You ungrateful little bastards..