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Timeline Of A College Snow Day

Timeline Of A College Snow Day

Snow days were what everyone lived for in high school. It was the only time you could be parent-free with an unlocked liquor cabinet and sneakily invite your boyfriend over for a scandalous makeout session. Now, take that scenario and fastforward a few years (and a couple bra sizes) to college. It’s #Snowmageddon2015 outside, and there’s no chance of having class today. Whether your school shut down for the day, your professor slipped on a patch of ice, cracked a hip, and decided to cancel the lecture, or you just decided to take the day off because you’re an adult now and you make your own decisions, congratulations, girlfriend, you just got yourself a snow day.

10:00 a.m.: *Snooze* The greatest thing about snow is that it will wait for you. It’s not like class, ripping you away from your pillow pet. Snow doesn’t ask questions. Snow understands. You went too hard this weekend and that you need to achieve maximum beauty rest before waking up to start repeating the same shenanigans. Snow will allow you that opportunity.

10:08 a.m.: Why does having to pee always ruin the best moments of our lives?

10:09 p.m.: Back to sleep.

11:56 a.m.: Finally emerge from your bed, look at your your roommates cuddled up on the couch with one another and decide that this is an occasion for wine. If anyone raises a judgmental eyebrow, remind them this is survival food.

12:15 p.m.: Realize you are hungry. Contemplate making the trek to the nearest dining hall for some munchies before remembering it’s way too blustery out there for any sober person to venture outside. Drink more wine. Remember about the world’s greatest invention: delivery.

12:17 p.m.: Your favorite delivery places are closed. You and your roommates pull together your resources and feast on pizza rolls, easy mac, chicken nuggets, and chips and salsa.

1:22 p.m.: Now that your tummies are full and mostly everyone is awake, it’s time to pregame the snow party on frat row while attempting to look cute in snow pants. Spoiler alert: no one ever looks cute in snow pants. Opt for the Under Armour pants you bought for working out (HAHA) and a furry-hooded, puffy jacket. Effortless snow bunny outfit complete. Celebrate by playing the new, fun drinking game you came up with where you drink every time you see a snowflake until the party starts and the boys appear.

2:18 p.m.: Head to frat row for a full-on blizzard party and reflect on how #blessed you are to be killing your brain cells with alcohol instead of using them to learn in school right now.

2:47 p.m.: Make giant snow dicks.

3:01 p.m.: Find any sort of hill and a flat object that can be used for sledding purposes. Feel slightly embarrassed and slightly like a VS Angel when you sled into your roommate, incidentally find yourselves seductively entwined as you hear the booming roar of a “Kiss. Her.” chant from the fraternity still at the top of the hill.

3:03 p.m.: Decide not to make out with your roommate — or do, I don’t know your life — and promptly quit sledding, because trudging through the snow is hard work. Resume drinking.

4:15 p.m.: After about an hour and a half of her bitching, you finally realize your roommate has a point. The cold is finally setting in. You’re soaked. You actually look disgusting. And you need to fix yourself if you’re even thinking about going out tonight.

4:37 p.m.: The best shower of your entire life. Emerge from the steamy goodness and realize you’ve never fully appreciated how wonderful it is to be warm. Stare at your wet, beer-soaked clothes on the floor. Ignore them.

4:50 p.m.: Replenish your body with the one and only thing that can make a snow day even better: pizza. The roads have finally been cleared so the delivery man can finally bring you and your roommates some nourishment. Armed with pizza in one hand and hot cocoa in the other, you all settle in around the TV to watch Disney movies and talk about how much you wish every day could be a snow day.

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premed donna

Who said you can't be smart and funny? When I'm not writing for TSM, you can find me studying into oblivion, downing a bottle of chardonnay, and/or sobbing for reasons I have yet to understand. All hate fan mail can be sent to premed.donna.tsm@gmail.com.

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