Jeep Cherokee Driver ’23
Look, for better or for worse, we’ve all been there, and for those of you who attempted to partake in dry January, I’m sure you’re ready to experience once again the pomp and circumstance which follows a Thursday night on Vernon. So, first things first, let’s start with the old faithful: grab the bulk container of Advil from your desk drawer—but, let’s be honest, we all know that will not be enough. Thus, as you begin to chug whatever remains in your Brita filter, might I suggest you skip the Pink Whitney-induced hangxiety and avoid watching the documentation of you and your roommates eating from the cereal dispenser in the AD kitchen. As you attempt to remove what remains of your L’Oréal Lash Paradise waterproof mascara, accept defeat and take a shower because, let’s be real, no amount of Sental 33 will cover the stench of the Marlboro gold that the guy who was “so cute” gave you last night (+1 if he got a pledge to light it for you). Let’s be realistic, we cannot change the fact that everyone saw that dance floor make-out that occurred while Justin Biebers “Baby” blared over the speakers…the damage has already been done. So get in your car (if you’re a New Yorker and can’t drive even though you are 22—your friend’s car) and go to Goldbergs. Regulars know to order ahead. And if all else fails, don’t worry there’s probably a PIKE darty in two hours.
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