The 8 Stages of Getting White Betch Wasted

Obv betches love getting wasted and blackout more than Bruce Bogtrotter loves chocolate cake, but there are times when it’s not enough to get regular wasted.  Like maybe you just got dumped by an SAB in a frat or landed a sick fashion merchandising internship and you need to celebrate by getting an appropriate level of wasted that matches your current situation. If your plan for the night involves Quarter Shot Night, hold onto your extensions because you’re about to get white girl wasted.

Obv it’s your party and you can get white girl wasted if you want to but if you’re the friend dealing with a WGWB (white girl wasted betch…totally a thing now) your night’s about to maybe probably crash and burn somewhere like that plane from Malaysia (too soon?) unless you know the different stages and can act accordingly.

Keep in mind that skin color is not the sole determining factor and betches of all races have been known to get WGW so if you’re sitting there thinking “TG none of my friends are white,” maybe get a more diverse friend group, then think again.

Stage 1: “Oh Hot Damn, This is My Jam”

Misplaced enthusiasm is one of the first steps of many on the road to getting White Girl Wasted. If “Fuckin’ Problems” starts blasting at the club and your bestie’s all, “OMGGGGGGG I CAN’TTTTT THIS IS MY SONG!!!!!!” and starts singing every word even though just yesterday she was going on a rant about how that song is like sooooo 2010, and like, who is 2Chainz? Then you know it’s happening.

Stage 2: “No New Friends”

Along the same vein, if you see your girl running to jump and hug some acquaintance like she’s running through a field of daisies to finally embrace her long-lost lover…yeah. Obv if normally seeing Jane from algebra doesn’t cause a blip on her radar, it’s def the alcohol talking about making plans for drunk brunch tomorrow. While a good friend would steer her away from Algebra Angie before she makes her an offer she can’t refuse, a best friend will stand by not saying anything, knowing that watching her recall this tomorrow morning is going to be about as entertaining as Amanda Bynes’ twitter feed circa summer 2013.

Stage 3: “How High”

I’m not talking like, how many blunts did you smoke/lines did you rail/etc, although if you pregamed with a cocktail of various drugs that’s an immediate indicator. I mean high as in hertz. You’ll notice as someone gets white girl wasted her/his voice will gradually get higher and higher in pitch until champagne bottles start randomly combusting. Once your BFF’s voice gets so high you can’t understand anything she’s saying because she’s reached a frequency only dogs can hear, you’ve got a situation.

Stage 4: “A Hair-Raising Situation”

Every betch knows it’s bad news bears when you throw your hair up into a messy bun on top of your head that sort of resembles an octopus because there are tentacles of hair flying everywhere. Be on the lookout because soon after giving zero fucks about your appearance (and let’s be real, the Jenna Marbles bun isn’t a good look on anyone except maybe like Shoshannah) it becomes that much harder to care about other important things, like the whereabouts of your ID or your bank account balance or like your dignity. It’s a slippery slope, betches.

Stage 5: “Stay Trippy”

It all happens in one big blur: one minute, you’re all dancing on tables, and the next, one of the besties is on the floor with at least one stiletto in her hand, yelling about how the floor is “like omg soooo slippery they totally over-waxed it!!!” Now is the time to take control of the situation stat or else your entire friend group is going to be playing “Weekend at Bernie’s.”

Stage 6: “Group Therapy”

Suddenly the bartender and/or all the girls in line for the bathroom are the perfect people to vent to about how Brad hasn’t texted you back in like, 27 minutes what could he possibly be doing that’s so important? Not to mention the floodgates of tears have opened up and the word vomiting like…well like actual vomit. Which is followed closely by…

Stage 7: Boot…


Stage 8: …and Hopefully Rally

And there you have it, betches. Something we’re all familiar with, getting white girl wasted as opposed to the reg kind is a roller coaster of its own. So make sure if you’re along for the ride you’re at least getting good blackmail pics for tomorrow.


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