First and foremost, I am hungover. Badly. That being said, it is fairly easy to assume that I shall not be leaving for Virginia today, as promised. Just as I didn't leave yesterday (that was fault was scholastic). Or the day before (that too was scholastic, I assure you). But tomorrow! Tomorrow I shall, barring any scholastic or alcoholic mishaps. Where was I? Oh yes, back to the hungover part. So today I was being efficent--laundry was being washed, CDs were being organized, rooms were being cleaned, it truely was like I was posessed by the currently incarcerated spirit of Martha Stewart (or of "Alice" from the Brady Bunch, not sure which). So of course who should call but my mother, and the conversation proceeded to follow a detailed track as to how I may now be posessed by deamons because I have read all the Harry Potter books (twice! does that mean two deamons for the price of one? only one just may get lonely) As with any lengthy conversation with my mother, a strong drink is usually desired by the part of the conversation where one (or on good days, both) party hangs up angerily. (Note: my mother and I are actually getting along the best we probably ever have in our relationship, but we still have our typical angry mother/daughter moments. I do love my mother, but she is just so easy to poke at!) Anyway, so Caroline (who seems to play into some of my worst stories...) sends me an instant message in the middle of the conversation and I tell her the "strong drink" theory, she totally agrees so after I get off the phone with mom I head over to Caroline's for a single shot of rum, then to the Student Activities Office to drop off a present and say our goodbyes (I know, a shot of rum before going to an administator's office, but eh...). While there we realized our paychecks were in, so we stopped by Schine, picked up our checks and went to HSBC to cash them. Now HSBC is right off campus, in the area known as "Marshall St" even though Marshall is just one side of it. Anyway, while there we thought, "Let's go to Varsity, get $1 slices of pizza, some wings and a pitcher and hang out" a very non-alcoholic, non-planning-to-get-trashed, non-irresponsible notion. So we did. Now if this was the end of the story I'd give you permission to beat me, but of course it continues. So the only beer they have at Varsity is Bud, and I'm sorry I don't like drinking anymore urine colored beer if I have the option, so after we finished our meal we went to Darwin's, a quasi-nice bar/restaurant across the street and got a pitcher of Sam Adams winter brew. Again, the conversation was lively, the friendship quality and the pressing issues lacking, so we enjoyed ourselves and our guest Sam. The waitress came over and told us that Darwin's was closing early (it was 6pm) much to our dismay, so we finished off our pitcher and left. But oh there's more. We left Darwin's and Caroline throws her arm in the air and yells, "To Faegan's!" the other nice bar in the M-St. area. Faegan's does not sell pitchers, but the pints of Blue Moon came, and the conversation continued. And came and the conversation got funnier. And came and started to get a little slurry. And then I lost count. All of this goes fuzzy around this time for both of us. It has been about an hour and a half and we have had a pitcher a piece and about several more pints. It was bad news. So by the time 9pm rolls around (mind you, this is a thursday night) we are gone. So we paid our tab, stumbled (literally) out of Faegan's and proceeded down Marshall St. I made it about 50ft, then turned to Caroline and announced that I had to vomit (or "boot") so I did, into a trashcan on M.St. I was there for maybe 15 seconds. Then we procceded, until we got up past frat row, where Caroline announced that she too had to boot. So she did, into the yard of Theta Chi. Opps. We rolled in the snow at one point, mooned Caroline's ex-boyfriend's house, yelled a huge hello at our very sober friend walking by, rolled in the snow again, got lost, got back to Caroline's, called my housemate, talked online, talked to Eric, then passed out, me on the futon and Caroline on the floor, with her head in the papazan chair (we don't remember how she got like that either). Then Caroline's housemate home, and aparently whenever they said something to me I responded with "F**K you..." over and over. Now we had driven to the bank, and Caroline's car was still there when we woke up at 8am. We called my housemate to come give us a ride down to HSBC (we didn't feel too up to the walk) and as we pulled in, her Jeep was up on the back of a towtruck. Ouch. Luckly I had $50 cash on me (why? cashed my check) so we got the dude to put the Jeep down there and we drove back to Caroline's, where we procceded to do nothing till, oh, 1pm.
I am embarassed at myself. More angry I guess. It's stupid to get like that; it's fun at the time, but it's not fun to leave that impression on people. Like those girls will think of me as "the girl passed out on the couch who told us "F**k you" over and over!" for a long time. That is never how I want to be remembered. I want so badly to be a good representative of things in my life, but then situations arise such as this and I blow it. Maybe I'm being too hard on myself, maybe too lineient. Regardless, I messed up--lost control, lost memory, lost a perfectly good meal of pizza and wings and a lot of $$ in beer, lost time with my family, lost health--to gain very little, except an addition to a reputation I do not want to build. I don't know why it happened--seems just like another case of getting "accidently drunk" which occurs all too often, but fear it is a symptom of something far more sinister.
