Recently, I came across a twitter account, Odyssey Offline, that made me genuinely laugh out loud. Their tweets are simple one-liners of prospective Odyssey articles that could never actually be published, like 420 Reasons Why Ted Cruz is the Zodiac Killer and Sex Ed As Told By The Wiggles. However, I saw their page as, not only a hilarious parody, but a challenge. I wanted to bring one of these tweets to life, despite the hilarious absurdity. As writers, we are constantly attempting to be profound and get our endlessly deep pieces shared by the masses. Why not mix it up? With that being said, here's my attempt at realizing their tweet from May 11, 2016.

Summer is just beginning, and that means that your nights and weekends are even more free for debauchery than they would be in the school year. Summer nights out are an entirely different terrain; the normal standbys may seem completely different as your town of choice becomes a tourist mecca, suburban oasis, or a ghost town. Whether you are interning, taking summer classes, or hanging out at home, going out is like traversing the wilderness-- you never know what you're going to get. Here is a guide to your night out as told by experts in exploring the wild...The Wild Thornberrys.

9 PM: It's just another Tuesday, and after finally getting home and changing into your favorite sweatpants, your phone goes off. It's Taco Tuesday, the margs are half off, and your friends are on their way to pick you up. You try to convince them that you can't move, that you need a lazy night in, but you start to retouch your eyeliner because you know that they won't take no for an answer and tequila is your biggest weakness.

10:30 PM: The Uber ride there is when your pregame starts to sink in, so you ask the driver for the aux cord and blast music that puts fear into the hearts of your driver and any passing car. At this point, your friends are probably sloshing the cocktail in their coffee to go cups all over the place in an attempt to show you how to twerk/dab/nae nae. (Plot twist: none of you dance well, and none of you know how to dab).

11 PM: Once all of your sloshed friends somehow get in, you head straight to the dance floor to get out the energy you built up on the ride over. Someone will, without a doubt, approach the DJ and attempt to convince him to play 679 or Formation. However, the music playing is totally "your song" and you're killin' it on the floor. All eyes are on you.

12 AM: One of your friends will get drunker than you are and ramble on about the boy she's met who is an absolute dream, and not creepy at all, despite the massive amounts of gel in his hair. You start to panic when you see that his shirt may have small rhinestones, and try to talk her into hanging with you, but she will probably screech at you over the music about how you are never happy for her and leave with the boy anyway.

12:30 AM: Now that you're alone, you will quickly find yourself surrounded by a captive audience of men attempting to woo you. They all seem the same; slow, vaguely unsettling, generally boring to watch. You smile and shush them as you walk away, hoping to find at least one person you came with still in the bar.

1 AM: You approach the bouncer and plead with him to help you find your friends. You quickly become frustrated with him when he doesn't understand what you want and storm off toward the bathroom, still on your quest. Unfortunately, you didn't quite realize that your words were slurred and unintelligible to anyone but another drunk girl.

1:15 AM: You find your friend in line for the bathroom, where she pulls you in with her. You cannot pee alone and you certainly cannot puke alone. While she gets rid of the four gin and tonics she has downed in the last hour, you try to hold her hair, and her face, and her purse, and her dignity, all while yelling "Somebody's in here" every minute when someone knocks. Who puts only one bathroom in a bar?

1:40 AM: The bar is closing, your friend is crying, and the creepy men are somehow multiplying. You pick up the phone and order an Uber, attempting to stave off the offers of drinks at someone's apartment. While you have 10 minutes to wait, you call your ex and leave a voicemail that will make you wish you had downloaded that drunk texting app after all.

2:30 AM: You're home. You have work at 7 and summer class at 3. And let's be real, you'll be out again tomorrow, despite what you, or your wallet, say tonight. Welcome to summer.