Hungover and Questioning Life

So since I’m ridiculously hungover today at work I am doing as little as possible, which frees up some time to share a thought or two with you mushes.  Last night it was one of my friends Birthday so in typical NYC fashion we went out to a club where we all proceeded to stand on couches, buy alcohol marked up like 1000% (only to give to girls- shout out to majplurrs post) and play the age old “Let’s see how long I can smoke this butt before a bouncer tosses me out” game.

So, as I stood (barely) atop some nice leather banquet with my Goose and tonic spilling all over the random girl below me as I did my generic Biedermann dance (If you haven’t seen it, I am sorry for you) a thought hit me.  I was like “Damn I’m happy as fuck.”  Was that due to the absurd amount of alcohol in my system?  Maybe.  Probably.  Definitely.

I think I am a sucker for fancying myself a baller, seriously.  Like sometimes you just have to grab your sack and ball out, ya know?  Well- I am no baller.  Actually I am a broke college student who works two jobs and somehow I find time for that college crap every now and then.  I suck at basketball too.  So, who is to blame for letting me think I’m a baller.  Rappers?  Society?  My mom?  No way its my mom.  Rapper’s come in as a close second.  Its society.  Why am I more proud of spending a couple hundred dollars on a bottle of vodka than I am my work ethic?  Because NYC culture tells me that big magnum bottles directly correlate with happiness.  That’s not right, right?  Can someone please explain my own thoughts to me?  I’m losing it.

My point here:  Don’t lose sight of your dreams and goals.  Don’t lose yourself trying to be something you’re not (yet).  That bottle of Goose is long gone, but I am still happy as fuck (not, I am hungover and hate the cold but you get the point).  Like Kanye told that bish when she wanted to get married at the mall, “you need to crawl befo’ you ball.”

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