As I lay here at 3:00 in the afternoon still buzzed from last night’s alcoholic adventures, I’m realizing how precious college life is. I’m also realizing that my memory is getting to be completely unreliable, so here’s a cheers to archiving my conquests.
So let’s start with last night.
A friend of mine turned 21 at midnight. Naturally we celebrate with a flannels&handles party. I ventured over with a flannel shirt I borrowed from one of my ex’s best friends, a handle of Bacardi, and my keys securely fastened to my belt loop for maximum drunk-proof awesomeness.
Champed it at flip cup. Awkwardly danced to some Timber. Met some strangers and told them I loved them. Stumbled around with my handle. Shot. Shot. Shot. Shot. Shot. Feeling bueno. Peaced out. It felt cold outside; clearly the alcohol jacket hadn’t fully kicked in yet.
Headed to KA. Had an hour long conversation I can’t seem to recall. I’m sure I sounded super educated. Decided I needed a refill (poor choice #1) so I meandered towards mi casa with my frand, her plus one, my plus one, and a 5th wheel.
Successfully made it home. Somehow pineapple juice ended up all over the floor. Shot. Shot. Somehow managed to tear my canvases off the wall. Shot. What’s wrong with me?
Commence memory blackout. The following is a pieced together account of the rest of the night.
Went to an apartment or two… or five. Drink drank drunk. Found my house. Worshipped the toilet Gods. Cockblocked my roomie. Sorry roomie. LOL at my life. Passed out.
Woke up. Still drunk. BO TIME! Couldn’t find my keys, but I could find the pants they were attached to. Awkward. Panicked. Tweeted about it. Panicked. Found out from a sister that I removed them from my pants last night and threw them at my wall. I would. Found the keys under my bed.
Water is my best friend.