Much like how boys feel about their mothers, there’s a special place in any girl’s heart for her father. He’s there when you need him, he showers you with compliments, and he shows you that not all men are the worst (which can be hard to remember in college). However, despite our love for our fathers, there are certain things they never need to know. What they don’t know won’t hurt them, and the last thing we want is to
get cut off hurt them.
Emergencies including, but not limited to: liquor runs, purchasing every sorority shirt in existence, excessive online shopping, and trips to the mall where I leave with enough bags to warrant a shopping Sherpa.
Last night I decided to mix liquor, beer, champagne, shots of 151, and everything else in sight. It’s a miracle that I’m not dead, although I may be close.
Instead, I either take shots directly from the bottles boys hide in their rooms, or chug the vat.
I don’t spend money on drinks because I know how to wrap a man around my finger (and if I do I use cash, because my bar tab would be astronomical and unexplainable).
I’m pretty sure that scumbag I was hooking up with has multiple diseases and there’s a huge probability he gave at least one to your little princess.
If I remembered any of them, they would probably be awesome.
Thanks for the birth control. It would be so inconvenient for you to take care of a grandbaby while I continued to rage.
I’m blackout shacking with a wide variety of fraternity men, none of whom you would approve of.
He’s nice, but he’s majoring in physical education, and you told me I need to marry rich to maintain my lifestyle.
I’m still up from last night, currently on a walk of shame from hell, somewhere between hungover, drunk, and dead.
I was alternating between texting, tweeting, daydreaming about last night’s hookup, and figuring out which dress to wear to formal, but I saw the stop sign and I totally paused.
I’m almost positive I’m pregnant, and while I know you want to be a grandfather, I’m pretty sure you don’t want that quite yet. Plus, the potential father is such a douche.
Except for in the bar bathroom last night, but I was so blackout who can really say what I saw, or did…
I wore the exact same Pocahontas costume I used when I was prepubescent, but I’m filling it out a little differently now.
I can’t remember who gave me this shack shirt, but I’m damn proud of it.
I stopped by because they forced my little to go to study hours and I wanted to find out who she’s taking to formal.
That one’s true. Love you, Dad.