It's finally time, my friends.
I seriously need to cut the recreational drinking out of my life. At this point in my life it just makes me very irrational although prone to highlarious antics. Last night I was mildly frustrated and thus started having a few drinks at Laura's work place, Pure Food and Wine (which, by the way, is the place to go if you are in serious need of a BM, because they only serve raw, organic foods. Some of the most satisfying and earth shattering dumps I have taken have been the direct result of a night out at Pure Foods.)
Well "a few" turned into "a bunch" which turned into "Baartenderr giive meee anozer!" On the way home (and 2 pieces of pitty-pizza later) I decided I was going to go on and get even more blitzkrieged...alone...at my house...LUCKILY instead I just fell asleep right away and awoke an hour later with a clear mind.
My life is pretty awesome right now and me thinking anything else is a booze-influenced hallucination of doom.
SO THATS IT. I am not going to drink myself into oblivion because it always makes me either A) send naughty myspace messages B) eat raw hot dogs or C) create embarassing blog rants that contain confused mumblings that I have to delete later.
Don't look at me that way, I know I know...I am not quitting the bottle completely, but a girl can get her kicks without getting sick.
Following is a photo tribute to some of my more regrettable, yet hil-a-ious drunky moments.
This was the night of my last St. A's Pledge Formal EVER...the theme was Grimms Fairy Tales and I was the Golden Ball from the Frog Prince. Unfortunately, I drank waaaay too much (exhibit A: me desperately grasping both the bottle AND glass) and blacked out shortly after that pic was taken. I am told my ball/hat came to good use as a puke vessel tho.
This was the night Carucci, Jerch and Jenny crashed the Moat Party at some frat house, and after drinking straight gin for hours, I made it my mission to steal a pair of undies from each frat boy. (exhibit B: Big bag-o-undies)
Going in for the kill. One of many drunken games of spin the bottle. No heed. (exhibit C: Look into his sweaty pitts. That girl is mesmerized.)
Seemingly desperate consumption of both ciggies and pizza usually follows such a binge. (exhibit D: Cancer. exhibit E: Fat)
Anyone want to guess what happened that night? Probably all of the above. (exhibit F: bloated face, blood-shot eyes.)
Jeez...if thats not disgusting and unflattering enough to plant my ass on that good ole wagon, I don't know what is...oh wait, yeah I do:
The fear of turning into this drunky mcdrunkster.
