One of my nights of drunken greatness.

I got a call from a friend the other day telling me about this party a co-worker is having. I don’t turn down many drunken adventures, so we agree on a meeting place where I can dump my car for the night. Its always a good idea for me not to drive since I have a horrible since of direction and I never actually sober up. The party was further out than my T-Mobile service will ever go, but it was worth the ride. It was a long enough ride for me to start drinking in the car to pass the time. Not the most responsible thing to do, but I’m not at all responsible. Besides, you should always have a good buzz before arriving late at a party. I think it’s a law or something. I began with a bottle of Bacardi I’ve had at my apartment for a while (I always bring alcohol to a party, usually something I don’t like and I wanna get rid of). I hate rum, but it's what I had handy. Then I took a shot or two of my friend’s tequila after the rum got gross. Mixing liquor is not a good idea and this was no exception. We finally got there, and after trotting up the Gone With The Wind-esque walkway, I made a bee line (or b-line, I don’t know which one) to the kitchen to drop of my contribution and see what the party had to offer. Although a great party, it was like being in high school again. Hot girls everywhere wearing roughly the same outfits, half-gallons of cheap liquor, the obligatory passed out chick in the corner, trendy rock music blaring, a 4 guys to 1 girl ratio, and light beer as far as the eye can see. I start pounding Bud Light (lesser of the evils) and attempt to finish off the tequila. Back-to-back double shots of Patron will always ensure a fun night. Before doing the second shot, I openly state to my friend that I will indeed be puking tonight. Its not something I look forward to doing, but it felt like one of those nights. Little did I know that phrase was an accurate prediction to the end of my fun. In a nutshell: I watched girls repeatedly grind on each other like they were working for tips (hey, I'm only 24, I thoroughly enjoyed it), danced and sang to 80’s hair band music, fell off a coffee table (twice) while dancing to said 80's music, watched a suspenseful game of strip air hockey (the girl lost of course, I took pictures), ‘wasted’ 2 or 3 cans worth of beer in an artistic fashion, suggested to a girl she should get naked for me as a prize to winning a game (I got a smile instead, but I later learned I has getting my ass handed to me in the game), some other perverted stuff that I shouldn't be proud of I’m sure, and finally fulfilling my earlier prophesy. I’ve noticed recently that most of my drunken nights end with me stopping in mid-conversation with a really cute girl and saying my newly trademarked phrase, “Yeah, I’ma go puke now.” Not exactly a turn-on I'm told. I laid out on the porch and gave the shrubbery some vitamins and minerals that, apparently, I no longer had use for. Then I wandered in the kitchen and continued in the sink until, I’m guessing, I collapsed on the kitchen floor and passed out. I have no recollection of such an event, but I woke up in a living room chair with a fat lip, dried blood and puke on my lips, a banged knee, and my ears ringing from the blaring of a tennis match on TV. I was later told someone found me dead to the world on the cold tiles I then called a bed and brought me to the chair. Not one of my finer moments. I didn't get a chance to test my BAC that night, but I did blow a 0.07 at 10am when I got home the next morning. I found that impressive. I learned one thing that night. I learned that my mom was right, I am a winner.