College Girl Rush Hour (A Tough Love Joint)

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I can’t stand girls in packed bars pushing through crowds as a chain gang, holding hands like it’s their first field trip. Since it would be in poor taste to roundhouse kick or verbally assault someone outside of their “safe space,” I figure this will do. Please take this under consideration if this applies.

THIS ISN’T THE INCINERATOR SCENE IN TOY STORY 3; IT’S NOT THAT SERIOUS.

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No one is in more of a rush than four 21-year-old, 5′2″ chicks trying to migrate to or from a bar in a packed crowd. This quartet of bitches maneuver like a junior varsity delta force, shouting commands and signaling Morse code via eye blinks in close-quarters. If you ever want to see how a real life game of Snake on those old Nokia phones would play out, leave a trail of vodka-waters outside of a sorority, leading to the nearest crowded establishment playing thumping Diplo with a bouncer not taking his job too seriously and prepare to be amazed.

Just because the university’s fullback is in your Instagram DMs doesn’t mean you can lead block your way through a throng of adults, ma’am.

This weekend, before you and your friends turn into Tasmanian Devils and spring yourselves onto a crowd of innocent bystanders, stop and think, why are we in such a rush? Are we just moving moment to moment without taking the time to appreciate our lives and the true beauty around us? Are we hurrying just to wait? This is some bullshit I just wrote to convince you to stand still for more than three minutes, but please don’t mind this and keep reading.

I wrote a poem for you fidgety ass ‘Oh, The Places You’ll Go!’ broads, in case you’ve gotten this far in the piece and formal literature is more persuasive to make you siéntate in bars more frequently. Here goes nothing:

Are you being traced or chased

Or may have you a taste for space?

If that’s the case, must you displace?

Replace the race, fore haste makes waste.

Since life is about balance, let’s switch it up to something a little more contemporary…

Your WCW thinks she’s Moses. Your WCW thinks the Cranberry-Vodka in her hand is the Red Sea and she is literally leading her people to freedom.

Seriously, I don’t get it . It’s like you guys grab a drink and then immediately feel the guilt of the calories so you flee the scene to get in more steps on the Fitbit.

I’m out. All I’m asking for is a little more Mannequin Challenge and a little less Ring Around The Rosie this weekend. Be great, stay safe.

-SG

P.S. How come the leader of the crowd push usually looks like the actual Tasmanian Devil, though?

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