"With the parties - the disasters - with my friends all pretty and plastered."
- Ke$ha, Crazy Beautiful Life
I decided that I wanted to be hungover the morning after St. Paddy's Day. My logic was that I had to get hungover some day, and it seemed a fitting day for the first time. After Thursday night, though, I actually doubt whether or not I do get hangovers.
I took the bus home from work and got myself looking all pretty. I went over to Love and Spark's, where Spark and Mats were waiting for Love to come back from work. The three of us did a shot each of my Sambuca. Then just Spark and I did. Then I poured one each for Spark and I but she didn't want hers so I drank both. Love came back and we got into Mats' car and Spark and I shared a can of a fizzy vodka drink while Love drank all of the other to try and catch up. We went to a pub but the line was long, so we went to my favourite night club, where I was supposed to meet a coworker of mine for karaoke. Love bought me a porn star shot and a skittles shot. I don't remember what I drank after that but I know I had two or three more drinks. All of my drinking was done over the span of about two hours.
The whole night is kind of a blur. I danced with my coworker. I danced with Mats. I danced with another friend of Love's. I broke Spark's drink and at some point I accidentally punched Love in the eye - I've been calling that my "flailing dance accident." We all sang "The Time - Dirty Bit" by the Black Eyed Peas. Don't ask me who I meant by "we" because I know there were at least six of us up there but I only remember Spark and Mats. There was a guy who introduced himself to me as Blake and I told him that was a Vampire Weekend song and then Love started talking to him. Somebody had a pineapple but wouldn't share it because it wasn't ripe, so why was it at the bar? A guy that I met one afternoon on campus because he came to talk to a friend of mine recognised me and told me his entry for our school's video contest had won second place because there were hardly any entries. Love tried to get me to drink water but I don't even like water. We were downstairs and then I was sitting on a couch and didn't want to stand up because I wasn't sure I could. Then it was time to go and I wanted to buy one more drink but it was already after last call and I hadn't heard that announcement. On the way back to the car, Mats picked me up and I don't remember why. I wanted a bacon cheeseburger but it wasn't happening. I had a pita and hummus in bed and, apparently, I ate the enchiladas. When I woke up I was still covered in green eyeshadow and pita crumbs, and my boots were in the bathroom.
I had an excellent time. I should probably be embarrassed but I'm not really. As far as I know, I acted like a normal drunk person. An obnoxious, out of control drunk person. I had fun, I did nothing I regret. I see no problem here. When I was telling Hey Rosetta about my night the next morning, though, she said hearing that story made her feel like a Really Good Person because she had just seen a play with Hamlet the night before. I am kind of offended that she is judging me like that for drinking. Yes, I did drink excessively. But no, I don't do that often and I don't think it's something to be ashamed of if it happens once.
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