After the last debacle, I'm going to write an entry that is a sure fire laugh getter. It's about drinking.

First off: I have a pretty high tolerance. For anything. I mix alcohol. I drink lots of it. I will try anything (it's a shame I'm not willing to try any food in this manner). And here's where you'll all hate me. I don't get hung over. No Lie.

Here's a really bad drunken story for you. About a year and a half ago, when Matt and I were still going out, we went over to a party. He and I were kinda on the rocks and this was the first time we had been out together in about a week. Tensions were high between us. I decided that I would be the best guest of a party in the world and bought $35 of assorted liquor. Jack Daniels Country Cocktails in Ruby Red, Woodchuck Granny Smith Cider, and some unknown beer.

The drinking began almost immediately for me. I'm sure I knocked back a cider really quick because that's what I do. I drink really fast. That's how I get drunk so quick. I had my first Jello shot at this party. The idiots made them with rum. I had a Smirnov twist in Raspberry, I had nearly black red wine. For the record, I think it was the red wine that caused the later events. That and being royally pissed at my boyfriend for saying lewd things about a good friend of mine who he had slept with in the past. It really wasn't too long after this that we broke up. I guess I should have seen the signs.

Anyway, I remember going to the bathroom and having people knock on the door and see if I was ok. I was. Sort of. I just sat there on the toilet and zoned out. I still have no idea how long I was in there. Later when things got really bad, the hostess let me go lay on her bed. By this point, and I'm sure this is the reason they made me lay down, I COULDN'T SEE! I swear to you I couldn't. So I'm laying on the bed, just thinking how terrible I feel and that I really did need to throw up, but I hate puking so much. Matt comes in later and I just kept repeating, "I hate how this feels." I was also crying. I told him I was only this drunk because I was mad at him...which is probably true. The next parts get fuzzy, but I could have sworn that he started fondling me and that we made out. He swears he didn't, but there would be no reason to deny it since we had been going out for 5 years at that point. So was I dreaming? Did someone else come in and fondle me? God I hope not!

When a sufficient amount of time passed, Matt and Tom figured out a plan to get me home with my car. Matt drove my car and Tom drove me home. I slunk down in the basement and kept drinking water so I wouldn't be hung over. And I wasn't! I couldn't see the day before and I wasn't hung over the next day. See Marie for more drinking stories.