My Michael J. Fox Monday is in full effect. TFM.

Apparently, my drunk alter ego’s name is Tyler Durden, and I’m pretty sure he’s up to something. TFM.

“Okay, let’s get our story straight.” TFM.

8am me wasn’t planning on drinking tonight. 1pm me is warming up to the idea. TFM.

Stiff cocktail next to your beer pong triangle. TFM.

Hearing your roommate piss into a gatorade bottle rather than leave the room because there were drunken zombies out there and by drunken zombies I mean blacked out actives who loved to haze. TPM.

The ability to rub losers the wrong way by just being yourself. TFM.

Using the hotel luggage cart to transport cases to your room. TFM.

The reverse pub crawl the next day to close out your tabs. TFM.

The old bank teller is training the new girl on how I like red suckers with my envelopes full of cash. TFM.