Roofied. No, Really.
I think someone roofied me on Tuesday night.
No, really.
In case it’s not clear, I’m a girl who can hold her liquor. Lots of it. I’ve been known to drink an entire bottle of vodka all by my lonesome and still function.
Not so Tuesday night.
I decided to go out with Mr. wankinterrupter. I rushed home from work, showered, shined, shaved and headed out to meet him at my local neighborhood dive bar.
I swear, I had no more than 4 mixed drinks and a HORRIBLE shot. Dear bartender – a top shelf kamikaze is NOT vodka and grand marnier. Yes, there most definitely is sour mix in there.
I should have known something was wrong with me when I actually thought it would be a good idea to try karaoke. One pitiful attempt at whitegirl rapping like eminem, and suddenly it was time to go home. On the way out to the car, I was having trouble walking. Mr. Wankinterrupter tried to help me out but he was pretty shithoused also, so some nice cute boys stepped in to assist me. They tried to talk me into ditching him, and taking them home instead. I demurred. I think the new phone number stored in my phone might be one of them, however.
I made it the 3 blocks home, and that’s when the real fun started. We’re talking, puking for hours, unable to stand up, skinning my knees falling down repeatedly, bruises on my cheeks from running into doorframes… DEATH WARMED OVER.
I know I didn’t have dinner, but there’s NO WAY IN HELL I should have been that sick.
Blech, my tummy STILL hurts just thinking about it. I called in sick to work yesterday and slept until 4:30 in the afternoon! Goddamn was I ill.
I’m supposed to be staying in with Mr. Pinchmynipples tonight. Dinner and a movie. And undoubtedly lots of pressure to fool around.
Let’s see how I hold up!
No, really.
In case it’s not clear, I’m a girl who can hold her liquor. Lots of it. I’ve been known to drink an entire bottle of vodka all by my lonesome and still function.
Not so Tuesday night.
I decided to go out with Mr. wankinterrupter. I rushed home from work, showered, shined, shaved and headed out to meet him at my local neighborhood dive bar.
I swear, I had no more than 4 mixed drinks and a HORRIBLE shot. Dear bartender – a top shelf kamikaze is NOT vodka and grand marnier. Yes, there most definitely is sour mix in there.
I should have known something was wrong with me when I actually thought it would be a good idea to try karaoke. One pitiful attempt at whitegirl rapping like eminem, and suddenly it was time to go home. On the way out to the car, I was having trouble walking. Mr. Wankinterrupter tried to help me out but he was pretty shithoused also, so some nice cute boys stepped in to assist me. They tried to talk me into ditching him, and taking them home instead. I demurred. I think the new phone number stored in my phone might be one of them, however.
I made it the 3 blocks home, and that’s when the real fun started. We’re talking, puking for hours, unable to stand up, skinning my knees falling down repeatedly, bruises on my cheeks from running into doorframes… DEATH WARMED OVER.
I know I didn’t have dinner, but there’s NO WAY IN HELL I should have been that sick.
Blech, my tummy STILL hurts just thinking about it. I called in sick to work yesterday and slept until 4:30 in the afternoon! Goddamn was I ill.
I’m supposed to be staying in with Mr. Pinchmynipples tonight. Dinner and a movie. And undoubtedly lots of pressure to fool around.
Let’s see how I hold up!
posted by erica looking at 3:22 PM
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