In the Time-honored Tradition...

I got totally plastered last night. I was so fucking drunk I couldn't see my feet straight.

I was at this crazy party with some band people, and the bar they had set up was quite extensive. I started out slow: a few sips of this, and taste of that here and there, but pretty soon, I'd discovered my fondness for Jose Cuervo Especial tequila. Needless to say, errrrbody in the club gettin' tipsy. Well, errrbody in my club anyway. After a while, I didn't even mind drinking beer. (Yes, that's right, the nasty, fizzy, fermented barley crap that I hate) I was sipping a bottle of some sort of beer (don't really remember that well) when some frat boy came up and slammed his bottle atop mine. Thankfully, I was previously informed by Matt that at this point, it is a party foul to let the brew spill on the floor. Well, no party foul for me; chug chug chug, and Mr. Beer was dead, long live the next beer I drank. Well, it lived as long as the frat boy stayed away. He did it again, and once again, no foul for me, only this time I turned the beer over, letting the contents get all over ole Mr. Kappa Omega I'mabastard. Needless to say, he was none too happy with me. He tried to clock me upside the head with a bottle-a-bub', but luckily for me, I was trying to take a step at the time. I swerved so bad, his blow merely glanced off of my shoulder, and he went clattering into the wall. Unfortunately for me, I tripped over a coffee table and bashed my head on the floor.

The next thing I remember, I was in somebody's bathroom next to the toilet. I took advantage of my proximity to the facilities, then went out into the living room to find my way home. The guy who had given me a ride was passed out on the couch next to some girl, but there were some people who seemed sobre (I think) in the kitchen. I got one of them to take me home.

The car ride was okay, I'm pretty sure the interior had leather upholstrey, but who knows? I was paying too much attention to the pretty lights whizzing by outside the window. I think I was more or less dragged to the door. Somehow I ended up unlocking the door, and even locking it back again. I made it all the way to the couch, where I woke up this morning wearing a T-shirt that was three sizes too small for me with "Why are you staring at my chest?" written in big, bold letters on the front. I've yet to identify the owner.