Panic! At The Disco's music might not be for everyone, but Brendon Urie is. Everyone's had a few of those nights that they can't remember. Here to illustrate that sinking feeling is Brendon Urie, a man who sings like an angel and drinks like a fish.
You're pre-gaming with your friends, and you're all "they're way drunker than I am. I'm good."
Pre game is not really for you. You like to do most of your partying in the bar or club. All those jokers who get so drunk that they can't leave the house is totally not your style, so you're chill. You're chill.
So you pile in the Uber and your friends are all drunk and you're like "damn, I should have had more."
It's awkward. But you're down. So it's all good.
But as soon as you hit the club you're all "WOOOOOOO" I got this!
A couple of shots and you're a dancing machine. It doesn't matter whose next to you, man, woman, big dude with a bucket hat, you're gonnad dance.
And then your friend gets the *brilliant* idea to give you some Tequila.
The devil's juice is so real y'all. But naturally, they bought it, so you drink it.
And naturally, this crazy drink makes you into a dancing machine.
Nobody can kill your groove. Part of being drunk is getting down with no inhibitions. Get ig!!!!
The next thing you know, you're full blown drunk and checking out hotties on the dance floor.
So you go up to somebody, and you don't realize how sloppy you look, and they totally reject you. But that's okay, because everything rolls off you when you're this blasted.
So you re-group. Because like YOLO right.
It's all good. Plus, doing shit you don't remember is part of the game.
After another round of shots you can barely remember your own name, so you just start making shit up.
I tend to give out a fake name when I'm galls to the wall. Hi...I'm Kate...or Carrie, or whatever.
And then you hit that inevitable moment where you're alone in a bar somewhere while your friends are dancing with people, or making out or whatever.
And you start to feel the existential angst of partying, and how empty everything is. Blah. Blah. Blah. But then you find your buddies and everything's okay again.
Next thing you know, whoops....you did something you don't remember.
What is all this wetness? Did I puke on myself? Did someone throw a drink at me? Oops, I did this to myself didn't I.
So your friends decide they need to get you the hell out of there.
Which is totally fine with you because you're done with this place anyway. #byeeeeeeeee
Your friends finally get you home, after deciding that you've had enough. And somehow, they stayed at a healthy limit while you, went a little overboard as per usual. So you pass out, and they leave you alone.
But not before messing around with your lifeless body first.