I remember a time...

I remember a time long ago when Thursday nights meant either getting drunk, or drunker. The biggest dilemma of the day was figuring out who was going to buy the Bartons for the night. Yup, $2 or $3 per person was all it took for a night of excessive drinking, and I recall some of us even got mad at paying this price a time or two. Jello shots? Sure. Mop water? Why not. Husker punch? You betch ya. There didn't need to be an occasion for such drinks, the occasion was simply that it was a Thursday. The reason to celebrate was the simple fact that we had made it through three days of not drinking. I never met a Thursday night I didn't like. Sure, Friday mornings were typically pretty awful, but what did that matter when the only thing on our agenda was to walk to the Union to get food and then to not be hungover in time to start drinking again by the evening. The only time we wouldn't go out on a Thursday would have been if we were too hungover from Wednesday. Now I debate whether to have one glass of wine or two on a Thursday night, I sure wouldn't want to over do it. My greatest excitement tonight will be a new episode of The Office, perhaps a bowl of ice cream if I'm feeling naughty. Sometimes I feel like I went from being twenty to twenty three in just a few years...But what I am supposed to be doing on Thursday nights I wonder? Like, let's say for a second I have friends in the town I live, what would I be doing then? Watching the Office with them? Are other twenty three year olds really going out tonight? Am I missing out on something? I think I just have to let go of the vision I have of myself rushing to a trendy bar after work to meet friends for happy hour while we sit around sipping on cosmos and munch on bar nuts served in a cocktail glass while us girls kick off our heels under the table and the boys loosen their ties and we discuss the market and our asshole bosses. I guess my life isn't a scene from the Boiler Room as I originally thought it might be. For starters, I get off of work at 2:00 p.m. at the latest, and if I went in "work clothes," I would probably get told to get my ass back in the kitchen, depending if the bar we were at served food. And I don't really understand wall street, either. I mean, if someone is losing money someone has to be gaining right? Right? So somebody please explain to me how that whole 1930s "depression" really went down because it sounds a little too damn fishy to me. Chris tries to explain it to me all of the time and it just doesn't click. I've also asked Chris numerous times to invest my money in a stock that he can guarantee will double in profit by next month and he won't do that, either. Stockbroker schmockbroker. Well, I should stop being so sulky because it is almost the weekend and my parents are making the trek to Peker to see the palace Chris and I live in. Although I am sad a Husker game is not in my future for the weekend it is for the best because Chris has a lot of work to catch up on and Chris has already said we will go to Hooters again to watch the game. Which is just as good. Yes. Definitely. God love post college life.