Dear Agony Ibis,
I always black out when I’m drunk and can never remember the night before. Usually it’s alright, but lately I’ve started waking up with awkward bruises, different haircuts, and literally hundreds of dollars’ worth of McDonalds fries.
What do I do???? This week is O-Week and I’m worried even worse things will happen to me!
Dear Anxiously Wasted,
I totally understand. As an Ibis who spends the majority of my day rooting through garbage bins and scaring people with my huge fucking beak, the concept of moderation remains outside the ability of my tiny brain, and quite possibly yours too.**
If there’s something I’ve learnt from constantly finding copies of ‘The Secret’ in the bins of Sydney, it is that you should not change yourself to suit the world. Be confident in your Secretions and change the world to suit you.
The point that I am getting at is that, quite simply, drinking less is not, and never will be, the answer. The idea of ‘less’ is merely a subjective and arbitrary quality that discounts the fleetingness of human existence in an uncaring, ever expanding universe.
What you should do, instead, is as your gut tells you! Follow your most primal instincts and build a complex nest/bodysuit hybrid made of twigs, mud, cigarette butts and twigs. Then, carefully weave a pocket for a camera or some such instrument to record your every public urination, awkward Uber ride and long conversation consisting of only “I love you!” “No, I love yoU!”
You’ll have all the fun of knowing what you did, without having to take any responsibility for your actions.
May you always know where those weird mid-calf bruises come from,
**We are all Ibis in the flock of Life, winging gracefully to the Great Trashpile of Enlightment