Drinking Rule #324

Don't buy a slutty "boob shirt" and go out (with the thought of revenge in your head) right after your boyfriend dumps you.

So we were together for 2 years. I'm in love.. like fucking head over heels, shoot me in the face love. Then one day out of the blue I get this bullshit speech - "I don't know what I want, I don't know if I even want to get married one day, I don't want to waste your time, I love you but I know you want to get married some day, blah blah blah bullshit bullshit blah". So instantly, my heart explodes inside my chest, and my life is over.

But we all have girlfriends. Gf's are great when a guy shits on your whole entire life. They pick you up, dust you off, and say "Fuck him. Lets go get wasted and find you someone 10x hotter just to piss him off". Well, at least this is what my bitches say, and they are pretty awesome bitches. First things first. I need a hot shirt. Something slutty and desperate that screams "look at me, I'm easy". Although I'm not having sex with anyone tonight.. I want to give off the illusion that I might. So We go to the mall and head straight to Forever 21. I walk right up to the girl working the floor and say "My boyfriend just dumped me, and I need a slutty shirt that makes my boobs look fan-fucking-tastic.. so that when he sees my pictures on Facebook, he gets enraged with jealousy". She looks me dead in the eyes and replies "I have just the shirt". And yes she did. This shirt made my boobs look big and fake... like a porn star. So of course, I bought it right away. We all go back to my house, and start getting ready. There is some drinking involved while makeup is being applied, and hair is being teased. And of course we are man-bashing, so we are all getting a bit fired up. By the time I'm dressed and ready to go, I'm already drunk. But damn, I look hot. We are taking pictures the whole night, because we know they will end up on Facebook, and you know who will probably check them out. After a few retakes until we get a good one, we are out the door.

Once at the bar, I'm doing shot after shot. Maybe if I drink enough I wont care that my heart is in a million pieces and stabbing my insides like shards of glass. Nope. Not working. So I drink more. After a while I'm out on the dance floor, having an awesome time, and believing I look hot doing it. There's even a moment when we are all dancing with a male, naked blow up doll. (I don't fucking know. There was a bachelorette party or some shit). Then out of the blue something hits me, and I'm a ball of crying drunkenness. I am sobbing, and I suddenly hate everyone, and everything. My friends call another friend of mine to come pick me up. Craig is my exes cousin.. but also one of my very best friends. When he arrives at the bar to pick me up, I'm crying in the corner. He doesn't like what I'm wearing because he puts his coat around me to cover me up. He also keeps saying "Jesus Christ, what the fuck". So I can tell he is not impressed by my awesome slutty boob shirt. He takes me home, I barf several times, and somehow make it to my bed.
The next morning I wake up with my heels still on. My hair is a mess, and plastered to my face because of the crusty tears on my cheeks. I'm never drinking again, I promise myself. (We all know that didn't last very long). After some more vomiting, plenty of water, and a much needed shower.. I found my way to Facebook. I wanna see all of the pictures from the night before, and see how hot I am. Hes probably looking at them all now and crying. How could he let such a nice piece go?

AHHHHHHHHH FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

All of these pictures MUST COME DOWN RIGHT FUCKING NOW. Shit shit shit. I don't look hot, not even one bit! My eyes are closed in every picture, my nipples are trying to say hi to the camera, and I look like a big lump of shit. How drunk was I? Apparently vodka makes me forget how to stand up. Panic is racing through my every vein. I wonder if my ex is on Facebook, staring at the same pictures I am and laughing his ass off. I call my friend who had the camera. "OhmygodtakethesepicturesdownRIGHTNOW. OR I WILL KILL YOU". She smart, so she takes them down and I can breathe again. (Well, of course there were a few hot ones, and we left those up).

He never saw the pictures. And without adding detail, we were back together 5 days later. He realized he couldn't live without me or some shit. I have not worn that boob shirt since then.. but its hanging in my closet if I ever need to turn into a trash monster again. Every girl needs that "last resort" slutty boob shirt. If you don't have one, I suggest you go out and find one. Just dont get drunk and wear it while your heart is broken. Your boobs may end up plastered all over Facebook too.