It's a question you need not ask a biddie, because the answer is always a hair flip and an indignant "um, DUH." But of what does a typical night out consist? Let me break it down for you.
Complaining About How Much Dinner She Just Inhaled
Before I went to college my mom told me a few pieces of advice about drinking: alternate with water, don't try to keep up with boys, and always eat dinner. Smart biddies never drink on an empty stomach (and my mom is one smart biddie) but they also wear really tight clothes and have probably gained a little beer gut from all that freshman year studying they did. Anyway, biddies finish their sushi or piece of lettuce for dinner and immediately start fretting about how fat and bloated they're going to look. It's both annoying and endearing, which basically means you want to shove a donut in their mouths.
This process varies in length, depending on the mood and goals of the biddie. If she wants to get her make out on, it's going to be a much different outfit than if she wants to stand in a circle with her betches and bitch about other betches. Anyway, because biddies can't make decisions for themselves they spend 20 minutes forcing their roommates to decide between pairs of shoes, pairs of earrings and color of mascara that absolutely no one in the world gives a damn about.
This is when people get wasted so they don't have to tolerate that middle ground of drunkenness when social situations are still awkward.
By this time, those high heels her friend fake deliberated about for an hour are starting to seem a little complicated. Getting by with a little help from her [equally smashed] friends, a biddie makes it to her destination and attends to the first items on the agenda.
- Acquire drink (usually a feminine mix of vodka, cranberry juice, club soda, and Justin Bieber's blood).
- Scope out the scene. This means targetting potential hot girls that act as competition and accidentally spilling drinks on them, and figuring out which guys they can subtly run into and convince to tolerate them for a night or a marriage. It's all about the future, you know?
As the night progresses, these two priorities remain of utmost importance, until...
...she realizes she can't speak English anymore, is blowing chunks in the bathroom, decides she doesn't like the poor boy she dug her claws into all night, or the poor boy she dug her claws into all night finds a safe and secure hiding spot. By a streak of luck, biddies seem to usually make it home (treasured cab driver, coincidental bus encounter, friend, carriage ride) and rarely have to wake up in say, the median of a highway or a suspiciously soggy and unfamiliar couch.
Despite earlier lamenting about weight gain and looking skinny, not even the strongest of biddies can resist the drunchies. This is when she raids her pantry for all things edible. Cereal boxes are ripped open, Nutella smeared all over the walls, pop tarts go aflame in the toaster oven. Food you don't even own is somehow consumed; I don't know, maybe it was the neighbor's. God forbid anyone say "Cook Out," "Waffle House," or "Sheetz," because then you have to get it, it's a rule and dangerous things will be done to obey it. The drunchies can best be compared to an irate elephant tap dancing in your kitchen: loud, uncontrollable, and angry.
Since she is now home, biddies will pass out anywhere: inside the refrigerator, on the couch, on the floor just inches from her bedroom. Either way, she wakes up feeling and looking like death and does it all the next night.
It's just the biddie lifestyle.