Pig Roast: From raging to recovery

Ahhh, hello there Richmonders. This weekend was nothing if not a true display of Richmond's prudent and pragmatic character. Rage, rage, rage downtown Thursday, show up to your Friday classes smelling like vodka and bad decisions, take a nap before Flo Rida on Friday, (giving you a full four hours of sleep/recovery) before THE ROAST on Saturday, the post roast on Saturday night and the detox on Sunday full of regret, carbs and in extreme cases, a Plan-B. True Life: Pig Roast weekend. Here are some of the bests and worsts:

Best: Mimosas!

Worst: Champagne headaches by 1:30 p.m. in conjunction with OJ sugar overload.... The one day of the year when 905 uses non-diet juice as a mixer can never end well. I'm making it my life mission to create calorie-free, sugar- free and carb-free mimosas. They may taste surprisingly similar to H2O, but hey, gotta shoot for the moon right?

Best: Waking up Thursday with the mindset that calories don't count on the roast weekend.

Worst: Waking up Sunday and realizing that your belly never really got that memo.

Best: Watching people fall all over the place as a result of ambitious shoe choices, too much drinking, Richmond's pot hole situation or general clumsiness.

Worst: Having a townie drive by and yell "I SEEEEEN IT, I SEEEN IT!" while my friend is still sprawled all over the stairs post-fall with her naked donk up in the air flailing around. I bet the cop would've approached, but he was too busy enjoying the view from behind.

Worst: The same friend running into a fence and tumbling down the hill during an aggressive game of dizzy bat. Two for two.

Best: Post Roast napping. Nothing says "Welcome to Richmond" with a dash of "My life is a joke" like a four-hour nap in the midafternoon.

Worst: Waking up from your afternoon nap only to realize you're starving, your head hurts, you have to pee, your running eyeliner/mascara makes you look like one hot mess-of-a-hag and you will be expected to pull yourself together and rally in an hour and a half.

Best: Pulled pork.

Worst: Pulled pork.

Best: All the alumni that attend the roast. There is nothing that Richmonders love more than fresh meat (I have stopped referring to the pork here and am now moving on to men), especially fresh meat that already has a real job and a life relatively together in the real world. With a campus about as small as Natalie Portman's body fat percentage in Black Swan, there is something strangely therapeutic about seeing/making out with new faces in the same old places.

Worst: N/A.

Best: Fratty Pig Roast pants, bowties and button-downs.

Worst: Coming to the realization that unlike girls, boys probably don't shop specifically for Pig Roast and those items happen to be in their closets and will be worn again at some point outside of the style bubble that is Roast attire. I'm thinking specifically of a pair of shiny purple paisley pants I glimpsed briefly in passing. I wonder if he can rock those personality pants to causal Fridays in the office?

Best: Men in uniform.

Worst: The insane police presence on campus Saturday. Since when is Roast-raging a crime? Sorry I'm not sorry.

Best: Coming home post-rally on Saturday night, stuffing your face with leftovers or ordering pizza if you're not already tired enough to pass out on the stoop and then dragging your exhausted, gross and sweaty body into bed.

Worst: Waking up Sunday morning.

Best: The thought of sitting on your couch all Sunday afternoon recovering.

Worst: Coming to the sick and sad realization that you didn't crack a book from Thursday to Sunday and will now have to make an attempt at productivity when your head feels like Kirstie Alley is tap dancing on it (and you tell yourself to work ahead every year. It's always an issue when your head says "Work" but your heart says "Rage").

To seniors: I hope that you enjoyed your last Roast as Richmond students-- please plan on telling your new bosses early on that you're going to need Pig Roast day off every year so that you can come back for some porkin' as Abby likes to say.