You spent your Friday night grinding your balls and tits off at Tim’s. Obviously! As a result, you spent all morning with your head buried in the bathroom garbage can throwing up Burnett’s, Keystone, and Freddy’s. It burns the shit out of your esophagus on the way up, but felt smoother than a baby’s ass on the way down. After regurgitating your entire Friday night, you climb back into your dirty ass bed, which stinks of sweat, mold, and alcohol. You are in so much pain you contemplate various methods you could use to cause your own death. Fortunately, your body cannot handle any more stress so it is forced to fall asleep. As the garbage party slowly filters out of your body through rank ass farts and cold sweats, you start to come back to life. Your eyes open and its now Saturday evening around 730p.m.
You have never felt better. You could run a fucking marathon while reading the dictionary you feel so damn good. But why the sudden turn of events? Because its Saturday and its time to rage your fucking face off. Many people think 730 is too early to crack open the first round of Mango Burny’s or to crush your first can of golden nectar aka Keystone. Fuck that, if anything it’s too late. You make yourself a gourmet plate of sloppy eggs. After you hammer that to your face its time to call up your fellow hens. You don’t waste time calling Eric or Sandy who will say “ Oh what! Its only 730. It is too early and I have to finish a paper” Ok well guess what I have to finish? This bottle of Burny’s and this case of Stones. You call your most loyal hens. The ones who are ready to rip a shot or shot gun a lukewarm beer at the drop of a hat.
So after all 2 of your loyal hens arrive the Saturday evening pregame is ready to really start. You throw on your iPod and immediately put on Kesha “Die Young” and become uncontrollably pumped. You and your friends are out of control and getting wild for the night. Before you know it you have crushed half the bottle and chased it with at least 5 stones. It’s barely 9:30 and you have upgraded from bologna, aka are HAM. Unfortunately, it’s a bit early for the bar, but it’s about that time where some other, less loyal, hens are ready to join in.
Now you have a full-blown pre game with at least 10 hens. You know as well as I do that ten hens equals one hell of a good fucking time. The beauty of Saturday in Newark is that there is no real designated spot. The world is at your fingertips. Should you go to Kildare’s, maybe Kate’s, or Roonie’s? No one really gives a shit as long as you can find a sloppy ass hook up and demolish a personal pitcher. You make your decision and the rest is history………. Sloppiness, shots, grinding, hook ups, spills, awkwardness, and one good ass hen night! Rage the fuck on hens.
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AND I WAS LIKE
It is the last day of 2012. You think about all the events that took place, how your life played out, and what might lie ahead for you. On New Years Eve day most people sit back and think about what they could have, should have, and would have done. They bitch about their ex boyfriend/girlfriend and how they will never be treated that way again. They bitch that their grades weren’t good enough. They bitch that they gained 15, mysterious pounds . (Well thats probably because they sat around shoveling in every last Twinkie they could find before they became extinct) But what do you regret, what coud you have done differently?!
Let me answer that for you! NOTHING. You are a Blue Fucking Hen and you dont have any regrets. Unlike the “loser” who let their grades slip, you mastered the art of getting buck as shit and still doing just fine on your quiz the next day. Not only could you slug down 7 LI Iced Teas at Kildare’s on any given week night, but you could get the second highest grade in the class. This is not luck, your a fucking Hen. Contrary to popular belief, you didn’t make alcohol your number 1 priority over grades this year because you do know that at some point you will need to utilize other skills that dont involve world record funneling or the most shots ripped in under an hour. What you did, as a HEN, was to make sure that all your academic needs were taken care of before Thursday evening around 8pm because this is when every hen leaves the coop to go HAM for the weekend. Also, as Hen, your naturally smart as shit.
So as this day comes to a close and 2012 quickly slips into history remember all the times you blacked out before an exam, all the times you you ran up a 50 dollar bar tab at Tims ($2 well drinks= 25 drinks), and all the times you simply raged your tits off. You dont regret a single beverage or a single moment. So as you revel in all the great things you did this year as a glorious BLUE HEN, please prepare yourself for one of the greatest nights of the year. You will go HAM, you will black out, and you will rage all in the Blue Hen fashion that we are so famous for. So go ahead, get some rest you little hen because tonight we will rage harder than anyone could have ever imagined. Whether you are bringing in the new year in New York City or at Klondike Kates, I know for sure that every HEN will be raging harder than any other human in the room. LETS GET READY TO RAGE!
To some, Kate may be a little sister, she may be an aunt, she may even be last nights regrettable hook up; however, to every living and breathing HEN, Klondike Kates is the finest establishment to be erected in the city of Newark.
Its Thursday afternoon, your sitting in bio lab hungry as shit. Your stomach has now resorted to breaking down its own lining because it has already blasted through the 1345 carbs from last nights Ramen noodles that you ate when you were hammered. You ponder all your options. Maybe you will save money and go to the dining hall, but you know as well as I do, that just as quickly as you shovel down that last bite of the sea food melt your sprinting to the bowl like Usain Bolt in London. So in order to avoid bowel destruction, you think about going to Trabant. However, you dont want to spend the whole next day in bed because you ate some stir fry chicken that had been baking underneath some weird reptile lamp all day. Aren’t those the same lamps they use at Petco to keep the fucking snakes alive? You think about going to a restaurant, but you quickly realize you are one bar tab away from pushing a shopping cart around Newark filled with nasty ass keystone and natty cans. Finally, you have an idea. You will go to Kates for half price nachos. Not only does this save you money, but you are going to get so much food that it could feed Alph Phi for an entire year. You decide that you dont want to be the next host for Man vs. Food, so you call a few friends. At first they are hesitant, but you remind them that its also the night for pitcher specials. They hop on the fucking ship immediately. After you and your friends demolish the Mount Everest of Nachos its time to get serious. You order pitchers, and no, not one for the table, but one for each of you. Halfway through the first pitcher the “lightweight” or “bitch” of the group calls it a night, they are fucking blacked out. Lucky for the rest of you its only 930 and you could not be happier that they are gone. The rest of you struggle to get the rest of the pitcher down before its time to creep up the stairs. As you approach the top step you feel the excitement, the bass trembles through your bones, and your ready to grind your fucking tits off. Downstairs, Kate has successfully fed your fupa and watered your hole. Now, as the button on your pants clings on for dear life, Kate is going to provide you with one of the best and sweatiest grind seshes around. The dance floor is packed with everyone you want to see. The cute boy/girl from your theatre class is there, your roommate from freshman year is there, and you even see your professor who is cautiously sipping on a Stella trying to blend in even though they stick out like a white boy at a 2 Chainz concert. You find the best entry point and dive in. Your fucking in the heat of the moment, you start out solo, but as the night progresses and the dancing gets a bit more sexual you find yourself face to face with that ugly girl/boy you swore you would never hook up with. However, after two pitchers and in this particular lighting (not too dark,and not too light) they look fucking beautiful. No words are even exchanged, just the passionate rubbing of your denim hips up on theirs. After your hookup you feel like fucking hitch and your sitting on cloud 9. Finally, the lights come on, you close out your tab, and hit the road.
Although certain days are better than others you, can be for damn well sure that Kates will always be a good time. Whether you are looking to hook up, drink your fucking face off, eat until you want to puke, or maybe even all three, Kates is where its at. Kates will always be this Hens second home.
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