This weekend is a spring visiting weekend for prospective UCSB students. There are parents and high school seniors everywhere. Fucking everywhere. It's scary. Last night, as my roommates and our friends set out a drinkin' prior to a really rockin' 80's themed party, we found one of these prospective freshmen among us. He was visiting a friend of our friend, who joined us in our revelry. I'm sure his impression of our college experience here is . . . stellar. Here's some of my advice to him after about 8 shots of Southern Comfort:
"Listen, Taryn, I don't want you to think that this is all we do, okay? We don't always live in this valhalla of drunken decadence. I mean, come on, look at me. I'm ridiculously drunk and I can still say the word 'valhalla.' That's amazing, right? I mean, I'm an English major, a drunken English major and I can still say 'valhalla.' So, I mean, that's pretty good right? I've said 'valhalla,' um, a few times now and I am, what, 8 shots deep? So, yeah. My vocabulary is pretty unaffected if I can still say 'valhalla' while drunk."
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