There is no feeling in this world that is more satisfying than following your drunk fast food bliss. When you're entirely sober, sure, you know what you want—but it's only when you've wandered past the last exit to Tipsy Town straight into Drunksville that you know what you need. And usually what you need is greasy, glorious processed food served up in a paper bag that smells like the literal gates of heaven are opening up for your nose. Well, it turns out your favorite drunk fast food says a lot about you as a person. Get ready to face the music, guys. Or at least face the aftermath of all those fries you drowned in a Frosty while screaming "Take Me To Church" with your mouth wide open when it came up on your roommate's Spotify last night.
I'm not here to judge anybody's journey. In the embarrassingly recent past I drunk ate pizza on a curbside and moaned—nay, declared—"This pizza is better than sex" to everyone still awake in Hell's Kitchen. Not the most original thought, Drunk Me, but the execution was still flawlessly awkward. Between this drunk-venture and observing the drunk-nanigans of my friends, I feel pretty confident as an authority on drunk eating. (That, and I'm still justifying the four years of a psych degree I never use, so HUMOR ME, internet.) Without further ado, here is what your drunk self's go-to fast food says about you:
You are basically the student body president of drunks. You can get slizzard with the best of 'em, but always maintain a sense of decorum. You are selfless in that you are always willing to share fries with a fellow party-hardier. You are most likely the one who makes all the plans when your besties go out, but that's also because you're damn good at what you do, and you have earned that McFlurry, dammit.
First, an ancient proverb by Ke$ha: "The party don't start 'til I walk in." She wrote that song for you, you little drunken hero, you. You are not afraid to live in the ~now~, and if anybody's got (shredded) beef with that, it's nacho problem. You make friends wherever you go, but you have one small, hardcore squad that you stick with like chips and guac.
You probably karaoke'd "Don't Stop Believing" sometime in the last month, bless your drunken heart. You are also among the chillest of your friends. You get drunk for drunk's sake and avoid all the drama by chilling on the couch and talking about Jurassic World. You either came from a large family or a large friend group, so you are a champion compromiser and are more than happy to ride out other people's drunken waves with them.
You don't give one fried chicken leg about what anybody thinks of you. You know what you like, and you're gonna get it. You were probably sorted in Slytherin, which only makes sense, because you've got more ambition in your drunk little finger than your sloshed comrades have in their entire bodies. You have an extremely diverse friend group, and yeah, some of you are hella weird, but you wouldn't have it any other way.
You're an elusive creature. You don't go out very often, but when you do, you go hard. You are the secret beer pong underdog, the keg stand wizard, the secret bathroom finder—you burst into a party like a supernova, dazzle everyone with your presence, and are gone forever (or at least the next few weeks).
You are ridiculously charming, which works in your favor, as you are the drunkiest drunk that ever drunked. You are your friend group's Token Drunk, basically. You are also a little bit like a slizzard wizard in that you have anything and everything a person could possibly need in your bag, and you have this habit of dropping knowledge bombs that blow everybody's mind at 1AM.
In 'N Out
You put up a good front of looking like you've got your whole life together, but deep down you are every bit as much of a hot mess as the rest of us—and honestly, this is your secret weapon. Your work-life-drunk shenanigans balance is on fleek, and even when you inevitably reveal your inner AFAJHLAGKALF, you are still trailblazing like a boss. Your Netflix queue is mostly classy things like Scandal and Mad Men, but drunk you can't resist a 30 Rock binge at 1AM. (Can anyone, really?)
Twenty bucks says at least three people cried on your shoulder at the last drunken fête you attended. You can't help that you have Resting "Drunk People Come Cry At Me" Face. You probably get roped into DD'ing on a biweekly basis, and you are the first person who gets called when your friends' cars stall on the side of the road at butt crack o'clock. Thank you for keeping us all alive, whoever you are.
You are the champion of classy day drinking. A pioneer, really. You were probably an only child or an oldest sibling, so you're not afraid to strike out on your own, and you are certainly not intimidated by the prospect of shoving an entire baby-sized burrito into your mouth at 10:59PM before Chipotle closes its doors. When you look up the word "fearless" in the dictionary, it's a picture of you holding empty burrito foil with your drunk eyes gleaming in success.
Any kind of pizza ever
You are basically the Rainbow Brite of drunks. You're the one at the party laughing at everybody's terrible jokes, cheering everyone on during beer pong, and jumping up and down like an untrained labradoodle every time "Shake It Off" comes on. You're not afraid of people judging your journey. You're living your best life, however you damn please.
Just like Cook Out is an all-purpose cure for everything in a human's life, so are you. In fact, you are the glue that holds your friend group together. You have so many friends you can barely count them, so you're basically the drunk commander of a very drunk army. A drunk army that is, duh, sharing all of their hush puppies.
FORGET YOU. NO. If you are within distance of any functional Sonic I don't even want to TALK to you, you stupid, beautiful, ridiculously lucky human, you. Obviously you're the best. You already know you're the best. You're probably a distant cousin of Chris Pratt, and I get it, your life is amazing and your friends are amazing and everything is great. NOW GET OUT OF MY FACE.