As some of you may know, we are drinking game fans, as well as Criminal Minds fans. I just posted something about a drinking game about our favorite show, yet I don’t think they give enough opportunities to drunk. Here are some more potential rules that Erika and I (the drunk slutty slut, Hazel) have come up with:
– every time Reid spits off a crazy fact (relevant or not)
– every time you see someone you wanna fuck
– every time you sympathize with an unsub (mental disorder, due to abuse, etc)
– every time you see one of Morgan’s tattoos
– every time Elle is overtly sexual
– every time they jump to a conclusion
– every time Hotch talks to his son
– every time the unsub is a member of a police force
– every time the unsub threatens to kill their current victim
– every time the victim tries to negotiate with the unsub
– every time a BAU team members’ child in in danger
– every time there is a conflict with another government agency (foreign or domestic)
– every time they reference social media
– every time you get your heart broken
– every time they say “[wait] I think the unsub is a woman”
– every time Garcia makes a sexual comment when answering the phone and it wasn’t Morgan who called
– every time there’s “something they’ve never seen before” or something “unheard of”
– every time you recognize an actor that plays in another movie/show
– every time you aww at how much of a family the BAU team is
– every time you want to personally murder an unsub
– every time Morgan takes off an article of clothing
– sexual tension
– every time Garcia wows the team with her skills
– every time it’s near a college campus
– every time you notice that JJ has a new haircut/style
– every time Reid references chess/another game
– every time you wanna fuck Morgan (JK you’d get alcohol poisoning)
As you might tell, we like drinking. Get ready to get thraaaaaaashed
or, as in Erika’s phone: Hazel newly single drunk slut
Tonight, Erika and I (still drunk Hazel) drink heavily to deal with recent pains. I just got rejected, and while people say that it’s not my fault, i can’t help but think that I’m the one that fucked it up hard core. I’m sorry this isn’t fun, but I’m really kind of hanging onto the fact that he said that he liked me and we should take it slow and be friends for a while… maybe meaning that later we wouldn’t just be friends? I don’t think it was just a rebound, but maybe it is. I’m honestly more upset than our ending than me and my ex ending things… I’m just kind of in a state of hating myself. Maybe this means I can just have more drunk slutty sex and focus more on school? Yet I still don’t feel good. I feel drunk, but no where near good. Anywho, here are the rules to the criminal minds drinking games, although I don’t think they give enough enough opportunities to drink… Just wanna hide away forever
The past several days of couch-potato-ing and day-drinking has taken its toll on the apartment. Our communal chalkboard reflects the problem:
The sink is inaccessible beneath Mt. Dishes and we’ve had to resort to using to-go chopsticks as literally all of our utensils are dirty and running the dishwasher will mean first conquering the sink. Yikes.
Past the kitchen, the trash and recycling bins are overflowing and the living room floor is invisible beneath a layer of socks, solo cups, and to-go boxes.
Personally, my laundry hamper is approaching critical mass and I’m nearing the last day of clean bras.
Any sane family would devote today to a deep clean. As for us..? Well, we might.
If you don’t hear from us soon, send help because it’s likely we’ve vanished beneath the kitchen debris.
We love Eugene (usually) and have grown accustomed to the rain, but the transition from summer sun to constant, monotonous grey is never easy. The seasonal shift really began today, and the rain has started. Help.
We’ve been sheltering in the apartment and drinking tea. We mustered up the motivation to do some living room yoga this morning (our idea of morning being around 1pm) but we’ve since devolved to Netflix (shameless Criminal Minds binging). We love days where we don’t have to feel guilty about not going outside.
Hangovers are death. Alcohol is the devil. The morning after True American, the electrician came over to fix our dish disposal and discovered us sprawled on the futon, Erika still wearing a tiara, with the living room literally covered in Rainier cans.
Our hangover cures, perfected through practice:
•Close the blinds
•Blanket piles on the couch
**Do not speak to anyone outside the apartment**