Inevitably, we go back home drunk using the plunge club kid, tripping over our foot.

Inevitably, we go back home drunk using the plunge club kid, tripping over our foot.

Whether within the basement of Sig Ep or at Mel’s and a short while later 1020, numerous students at Columbia have only one thing that is big the agenda for a week-end evening: find a hookup. We go directly to the celebration, we drink so we dance, and we also go to 1020 and lay on along side it for the pool dining dining dining table until a hot man comes around and sits straight straight straight down close to us. The next he does, our friends begin texting us vigorously from over the room: “Ohmigosh! Get you! Get itttt!”

It to his double in McBain, we hardly process our surroundings before we’re in his bed, making out aggressively with a stranger to something that vaguely sounds like Arctic Monkeys when we make. Continuar lendo Inevitably, we go back home drunk using the plunge club kid, tripping over our foot.