This past weekend, you faced the embarrassment of standing outside of Bullwinkle’s during the prime 12:30 a.m. hour. You already committed to Bull’s and will probably not remember this in the morning. But as soon as you’re let in and cross that dark, musty threshold, strutting your shit down the long aisle, you’ve already seemed to have lost something: your dignity. It won’t be the first time you’ll lose it, so where might it be hiding inside of Bull’s? Glad you asked. Ask yourself these questions to figure out where it is.
Is your dignity in the photobooth?
That 100-second Snap story of you and your several lady friends singing to a song that’s “your shit” was not enough for you. You must remember this time at Bullwinkle’s forever so you and your posse go the fuck into the photobooth and probably flash the camera. While nudes look a lot better in photo booth print-form (courtesy of Bull’s), your dignity isn’t here. Let’s move along.
How about between the baby being made in the center of the dance floor?
Which one? Do you have a specific set of people you had in mind that you can find again, get their contact information and ask for your dignity back? They are busy making a gahdamn child and Ohio State is too big for you to ever have the hope of finding them again. You must move on from this idea—if your dignity is here you may never find it.
Well what if my dignity is in the several bombs I downed throughout the night in one gulp?
Well you would have already swallowed it, you big dummy. Keep looking.
How about on the outside balcony?
Are you a smoker? No? Then you probably wouldn’t be here and, out of all things people could possibly steal, we highly doubt they would go for your dignity. Keep searching.
The inside balcony?
Probably not. Chances are you only spent a max of one minute up there before hanging around with Becky—who dropped it low 18 straight times while straddling the bars—got a little old. Keep searching.
Okay, what about between the cushions of the seats lining the runway of Bull’s?
Good job. You know damn well where you spent the majority of your time and where your dignity might have slipped out of you as you watched others slip in and out of each other. You were either too drunk or not drunk enough to get out there and shake your sadness out, and thus are now sitting, staring at a clump of 17-32 year olds doing the same. Sadly, your dignity decided to dismiss itself after realizing you would not leave 30 minutes into sitting there and got stuck in the disease-ridden cushions.
Shhh, shhh, it’s OK — you can get it back next weekend if you dig hard enough.
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