Party Girl goes to The Press Box

PARTY GIRL
Anonymous Contributor

 

Hey, girl, it’s been a while since we last talked. Did you miss me?

Of course you did.

You won’t guess where I went last Saturday night. OK, you might, because everyone else in the entire city of Natty was there too. I joined the drunk herd of 18 to 23-year-olds at a little filth hole we like to call The Press Box.

Sure, there’s less vomit and cigarette smoke than The Body, but let’s not kid ourselves; we’re basically twerking in a mud bath (not that twerking is a refined activity anyway). The whole place smelled of country boy B.O., Taco Bell farts, the sweaty and blistered feet of girls wearing Forever 21 heels, and the disappointment of men who awkwardly stand in corners or in small groups on the dance floor, waiting to get laid. (Do they expect to attract women with the magnetic pull of their erections? I find these little delusions of grandeur rather amusing, but I digress.)

While these smells invaded my nasal cavities, I had the immense pleasure of witnessing college students sacrifice their dignity and adult status to interact like high schoolers in a shameless parade of desperately trying to act cool, which, of course, is inherently lame.The faded sheep flocked to the dance floor and became one entity as they proudly shouted the lyrics of a song objectifying women, but they shouted with conviction all the same. They flaunted their ability to memorize the lyrics to a variety of frat boy anthems, but their dancing was much more subdued, or in other words, nonexistent. You’d think alcohol would loosen people up, but the desire to impress the opposite sex is strong.

After a while of being privy to this juvenile, sweaty world, I realized something. I suffered through high school so I could escape these bozos, but I’ll never be free of them. However, in comparison to the people who don’t dance because they’re too cool for school, or in comparison to the girls who are just looking for a guy that isn’t “the worst” in a sea of douche bags, I’m the one who is free.

Take your Taco Bell farts elsewhere, cause I’m sick of your lame dancing and spineless reliance on social norms. This girl wants to party, not be your shawty.

XOXO,

Party Girl

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