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An Average Night During Sylly Week 

It’s 5:03 pm and you just got let out of class eighteen minutes late, which seems almost impossible since you only went over the syllabus and all your friends had classes that didn’t even last eighteen minutes. But, you’re done for the day, and the boys have already been scheming a plan for the rest of the night. Sure, you’ve got class at 8:00 am the next morning, but why waste a perfectly good night when all you’re going to do is go over “course expectations” the next day? Although “Sylly Week” does technically mark the beginning of the fall semester, you begin to realize it just serves as a brief period where alcoholics in their late teens and early twenties can slowly adjust to being productive again. 

After scarfing down what you believe to be a pulled-pork sandwich at the dining hall, you run back to the dorm and put on a semi-clean fit (who has time for laundry?), praying that a couple sprays of your roommate’s Dior Sauvage cologne will somehow get you some action tonight. By the time you meet up with the boys, it’s 7:34 pm and the group is a hot mess. The fringe guy is hungry, hammered, and horny. Your go-to beer pong partner is struggling with confidence issues. All the girls that were supposed to meet up with you have left you on delivered for multiple hours. 

However, your faith for the night was restored after one of the guys whips out a ten-pack of Fireball shooters, and before you know it you’re party hopping across campus. After losing about $50 in cover money, you finally end up at a solid house party, but you can tell it’s almost too good to be true. And it was. All of a sudden, the fringe guy disappears with no warning whatsoever, and despite your group’s collective feeling to continue on at the party, you all head out to search for him. Through a combination of shoe prints, feces, and Snap Maps (mostly Snap Maps), you find the fringe guy sitting outside a girl’s apartment. 

Turns out Mr. Fringe got used for some booze and a safe walk home, but at least he got a side-hug out of it. At this point, it’s already 1:12 am, so you and the boys decide to cut your losses and head back to the dorm. After you completely demolish the rest of the care package your mom sent you less than twenty-four hours ago, you hop into bed, trying your hardest to convince yourself that 8:00 am isn’t that early.

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Written by the godfather

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