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How to Order a Natty Light at a Five-Star Restaurant With Your Parents

Adjusting back to home life can be tough. Suddenly there’s clean dishes and the sweet-smelling air of the suburbs all around. Where’s the fridge mold? The broken glass in the streets? The homeless man exposing himself in McDonald’s? It is especially hard when the average college taste palate consists of Blue Guys and 2 a.m. Fat Sandwich. The UIUC tongue just isn’t accustomed to fine wines or stupid white people shit like that. So, next time your parents bring you to Olive Garden, here’s a little manual to help out every student coming home and wishing things were a little worse:

Throw out your old fake ID:
Don’t want that slipping out when you fumble for your real one. Why do you even have that thing anymore? Sentimental value? That’s for people who don’t order Natty at restaurants.

Swallow your shame:
Don’t look up at Brad or Lisa. Their stares burn, but eye contact would burn harder. You can’t take the advice of a disapproving glare if you can’t see it. The opposite goes for the waiter. Don’t look away; this is a challenge.   

Refuse to hear the wine options:
Stop the waiter mid-sentence. Then, once you’ve rudely interrupted them, lead with “Au Naturál Weightless On The Rocks. The wateriest you have.” After you’ve handed them the napkin with “Natty Light pls” scribbled on it, they’ll tell you that they don’t have it. Tell them to give you the closest they’ve got, maybe some weird foreign beer.

Shotgun that shit:
Impale it with the nearest fork the moment the waiter hands it to you, especially if it’s in a glass. If you have to, shove your bike key through that motherfucker and chug, you gross idiot. Stitches who? Let your parents watch, too. They’re the ones driving home, and it might as well be in the direction of the nearest hospital.

Complain that it’s not the same:
Only the finest garbage for you! With a mouth full of glass, you’ll tell them that it just tastes so much better at UIUC. When you lock eyes with a woman across the room and she inevitably throws up, respond with “Yeah! She knows what I’m talking about.”

We hope you’re proud of yourself. Your parents and all the restaurant’s patrons are aware of the degenerate UIUC has turned you into. Above all else, Brad and Lisa are super proud of you.

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