5 Feb

People are complaining about my lack of note-writing this year, so I figured since I have a good 3 hours of homework ahead of me, this would be the perfect time to bust one out. Let’s begin with Saturday night.

Kehly, Andy “I’m not a dancer” Wilcutts, Alex “I bang in my incredibly small tee” Higginbotham, Jeremy and myself begin dumping alcohol into our bodies before heading out to Nick Eckerman’s where Cole and company awaited. On our way, we are all walking tentatively in order to not biff it on the sidewalks which, unless you are wearing ice skates, are impossible to walk on because they are literally MADE of ice right now. I’m behind the entire group as we’re walking down Burlington, and I shout ahead, “I’m going to walk on the street so I don’t fall!” At that exact moment, the group looks over their shoulder to find me wiping the fuck out in the middle of the street. I lay on my back as cars approach, and refusing to move, simply raise my arm in the air and wave them on by.

That’s fall #1.

We near the apartment building, and in my hustle to get inside, again biff it on the sidewalk, slamming into the icy pavement. Fall #2.

We enter Nick’s apartment, and I head to the bathroom to take shots with Cole. Things get a little fuzzy here; my blood alcohol content peaked and I don’t remember the next thirty minutes or so. Apparently someone picks us up and delivers us to Cole’s apartment where we intend to walk to another party at Joe’s house. Everyone piles out of the car in a large drunken group, and everyone falls ontop of each other in a giant heap. Fall #3.

Moments later, Cole and I are walking down the sidewalk, and we fall on top of each other also. Fall #4. Five minutes later, Cody shoves me. I smack the ground again. My elbows and knees are blue. Fall #5.

We arrive at the second party, and soon enough I find myself in a room surrounded by people I do not know doing cocaine. Eventually I slink out and meet up with Cole, Josh, and Tim in the kitchen. A bit later, Deuce approaches Cole and I, and says, “I don’t want to scare you guys or anything, but if a guy with a big scar on his eye shows up, you should probably get out of here.”

Cole and I look at each other oddly. “Why?”

Deuce: “Just trust me.”

At that moment, Cole and I turn around and see a man with a giant bloody ass scar standing at the keg. We look back at Deuce, who just nods at us.

Josh: “…so…should we go?”

Everyone exits, and we venture home.

Before I begin the next anecdote, I need to lay a bit of background information. Rachael had made brownies that week, but Steve discovered a giant spider in the pan a few days previous. Instead of getting rid of the spider and the brownies, they just covered the pan back up and left it on the kitchen counter. On with the night:

I dilly dally downstairs for a bit before I lumber upstairs to find Cole, Nick and Rachael in Nick’s room. I am chomping away on something brown. Cole looks at me alarmingly, and asks “–what are you eating, Becca?” I, carefree and having the time of my life, reply, “A brownie.” I keep chomping. Nick: “…there’s a spider in those brownies.” I spit it all over the floor. They put the remnants in Steve’s bed.

Rachael and I begin discussing drunk food plans while sitting on Nick’s bed. I proclaim I want pizza, and while rolling off Nick’s bed by accident, I say to him, “Can you order the pizza for me…I’m fucking stupid.” Crash. Fall #6.

We end up driving through McDonald’s instead, and while ordering, I slur my words terribly. The drive-thru woman asks me what I said. I repeat my order, and then inform her that I am heavily intoxicated and unable to speak properly. She asks, “You drivin!?!?” I say no. We pull up to the pick-up window, where I yell out of the back seat, “SHIT TON OF KETCHUP!” (Which in all likelihood sounded like ‘SITTONAKESSSUP!’) The black woman starts laughing heartily and gives me just that, which ended up all over the front of my shirt and on my jeans, to be discovered the following morning.

Outgoing Texts:

“I’m hammed.”
10:21 p.m.

“Yes auth am so drunk”
10:22 p.m.

“Yes taut We’re only ya lankl away.”
10:24 p.m.

“I know the deftlgmi”
10:30 p.m.

“My jokes are a zerone. Awesome. Battiz. Wow i can’t type.”
10:34 p.m.

I also have an incoming text from Cole that says “I wish you were capable of a text message!” Ha.

That about covers my fabulous Saturday night. I have more bruises than a white trash ex-wife. It’s not right. I’m in pain.

This is long enough. I have tons of shiv to accomplish.


“Really?! Well I guess I can make time.”


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