If you’re nervous about why things seem to be going so well for you lately, you should be. Before the universe takes your juice-cleansing, goal-setting, daily yoga and volunteering life and ruins it, steer your own ship straight into the sirens with the drunken destruction of everything good that you have in life. Test out any of these tips and you’ll be a sexy saboteur to remember by everyone—except you, because you’ll be super low-key blacked out the whole time.
Plan your meals poorly.
If this isn’t your first rodeo, you can probably hold your liquor for at least as long as a one-night stands holds you. Don’t worry, though; not even an experienced disaster can remain functional on an empty stomach. Not eating for at least two days will ensure that not only will you look like a sexy tower of sharp bones in Spanx, but you’ll also be so low-key blacked out that you can kiss your new job goodbye like that guy in your bed you just cheated on your loving fiancé with.
Wear an unsustainably dramatic shade of lipstick.
If eyes are the windows to the soul, lipstick is the curtains of your vodka-soaked, nonsense- rambling mouth. Bright red lipstick tells the world, “I’m too drunk to even try look like Taylor Swift,” and smeared, dark purple lipstick says, “Line up, loved ones: I’m ready to do something to our relationships that no morning-after apology text could never fix.”
Shots! Shots! Shots Shots Shots!
Take a different shot with every drink focusing heavily on well tequila and sugar-rimmed headaches. Buy shots for everyone around you, especially if you don’t have the money and they don’t want them. Then, guilt trip everyone into taking the shots anyway because you’re going to need a team of enablers to convince yourself you don’t deserve happiness and should spend the night destroying what’s left. Cheers!
Project onto others.
Projecting in both volume and psychological redirection is key to a sexy low-key blackout sabotaging session. Yell your problems at the person next to you, preferably someone you respect, until you begin to accuse them of having the same ones. One-up your game by choosing a sober person, and telling them how drunk they are. Before you know it, you’ll be projectile vomiting into a public toilet with your brand new phone in it.
Engage in cyclical conversations about “the truth”.
Last call is the perfect time to get really honest, as long as your definition of “the truth” is a misguided, convoluted opinion that makes Twilight seem realistic. If you want to raise the stakes, get on your phone, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and GChat and send messages that begin with “Just wanted to let you know…” to everyone who has ever mattered to you. Then immediately delete them to send your sober self into further rage-fueled despair.
Now that you’ve studied the chill, sexy version of blackout self-sabotage, you’re ready to put on your favorite dress, take two bottles of wine to the face, and get back to that comfortable state of frustration because this whole “things are pretty good and I’m actually happy” thing was never going to last anyway. Bottom’s up, bitches!
