Alcoholism hurts. Wasting your college allotment of acceptable alcoholic behavior on a Thursday night at New Rock hurts even more. Let’s try to get you back on the wagon making your way toward recovery, or at least toward a classier, less rapey location. Mason Jar perhaps. I hear they have live music on weekends.

Step 1: Wake up; throw up.

Step 2: We admitted that we were powerless over New Rock- that our Tuesdays and Thursdays had become unmanageably boring. We couldn’t take one more night of a 6-person power hour in the CPAs ending in some girl singing Call Me Maybe before she vomited, cleaned up, cried, and ordered Cars.

Step 3: Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves, or at least a bar with less sweaty grinding could restore us to sanity. We succumb too easily to the lure of dollar drink specials and convenient shuttle rides driven by perhaps the coolest guy to ever grace Ramapo with his presence.

Step 4: Made a decision to hand our phones over to the care of our most sober friend. New Rock is a desolate wasteland void of socially acceptable human interaction. Drunk texting that girl from class to “comee to Nw rokc cus you’re hot” only spreads the disease.

Step 5: Made a searching and fearless inventory of our own alcohol and realized we don’t need the dentist office rinse cup-sized beers to have a good night.

Step 6: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. *This is the actual AA 5th step verbatim. Don’t even need to change it. Seriously, take a look in the mirror.

Step 7: Repeat second half of step 1.

Step 8: After completing the previous 7 steps, you are finally able to move forward in the healing process. Now go into your kitchen (or that communal cesspit of a cooking area on the first floor of Laurel), make a bacon, egg, and cheese, and watch The Price is Right. Mackin and Bischoff students, please replace Step 8 with go to birch, begrudgingly eat “light lunch,” and watch whatever channel the weird kid sitting two inches from the TV selected.

Step 9: Apologize to the ones you have wronged. The girl you kept harassing to step outside for a cigarette because it was going to be “legen…wait for it… dary” does not watch How I Met Your Mother, nor did she appreciate being called a spitting image of one of the T.U.C.S. cleaning ladies that works in the Bradley Center.

Step 10: Tell your roommates who also are dealing with a severe hangover that you’re never drinking again.

Step 11: Drink again (somewhere other than New Rock, but let’s face it. It’s gonna be New Rock).

Step 12: Do your part to help prevent the spreading of such a home-wrecking illness. New Rock nights are a disease, people. It’s up to us to warn the next freshman we hear in class saying, “I think I’m gonna go to that New Rock place. You can get in as a girl if you’re 18 and I hear it’s really fun.” Grab the freshman and shake the devil out of her.

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