bitchy_merlin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bitchy_merlin) wrote2009-12-07 12:21 am
bitchy_merlin) wrote2009-12-07 12:21 am
Entry tags:
I bow to Murphy
Last night went wrong in just about every possible way.
It started out ok. I met Jenna, we walked over to the party, there was a phase of awkward standing around as we waited for people to arrive. People arrived and the drinking commenced. So far, so good. I held back because I was planning on being mostly sober when I walked Jenna home. Needless to say... that didn't work out so well. More people came, though the boy from french was not among them, so I spent some time D-facing inside. I talked to Dean for a bit, and kind of milled around in that furtive way you do when everyone knows each other, and you don't know anyone.
Right, ok, interlude: the important thing about Dean, for the purposes of this story, is that he is an upper-year foilist who doesn't drink.
So Dean left for a while, and I thought he'd gone home for the evening. Not that I could blame him because really, who wants to spend their Saturday night taking care of drunk people while still completely sober?
Interlude the second: Dean is a masochist.
An hour or so later, Dean came back, saying he'd accidentally grabbed the wrong jacket. People were doing shots in a shot glass that was the equivalent of three (Hogaarden??). He said he planned to stay the evening, since he was already there, and told me that he would make sure Jenna and I got back to our respective residences safely. (Masochist, I told you.) After that conversation, secure in the knowledge that someone would be looking out for Jenna, I proceeded to get absolutely shitfaced. Michelle gave me a crash course in mixing drinks, which consisted of "If it smells good, it will probably taste good". So I had something involving whiskey, and half of Jenna's drink involving vodka (because she'd been cut off, seeing as walking was beginning to be a problem), and another drunk involving whiskey and plenty of syrup. There were also shots of vodka involved, and a few sips of a mysterious punch that the epeeists had brought. I'm getting sick just writing this (and I apologize if it's having the same effect on the reader), but let it be a lesson to my future self that THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA.
But ok, you get the point: lightweight+wayyy too much alcohol = NOT GOOD. I remember leaving the first voicemail for my parents, but not the second, and I don't remember having the conversation with Chloe at all. Apparently I get the urge to call people when I'm drunk. WTF. Anyway, basically there is a huge gaping hole in my memory from about 11:30 to when I woke up this afternoon. I know, from the evidence on my clothes and muddled flashes of recognition that I was sick at least once. I think what happened was that I threw up, and Dean and Jenna and probably Michelle brought me to COR (Campus Observation Room). I woke up there, at any rate, at about 6:30 am. I know this because I remember throwing up. I was still piss drunk. There was a woman there, thin with light brown hair, who sent me on my way. I had no fucking clue how to get out, and I remember leaning against a billboard on the wall, throwing up in the hallway, before stumbling miraculously out of Vic Hall and back to res. I crashed as soon as I got to bed, and didn't wake up until 12:30 this afternoon, when I realized my coat and cell phone were missing.
I managed to track down my phone - I'd left it at the house where the party had taken place - and I recently got an email from Michelle, saying that she has my coat. I actually had a disturbing number of emails in my inbox, asking if I was alright. It was terribly embarrassing, especially because I was so set on, y'know, not being drunk so that I could walk Jenna home. Yet I'm the one who ended up in COR.
So right now, I'm still trying to deal with the backlog of embarrassment and general "oh shit"-ness that comes with the situation. I did not actually throw up on anyone, but this is definitely not a high point in my life. I am supposed to be responsible and intelligent, so why did I think those drinks were a good idea? In the end, it comes down to the fact that I made a couple of bad decisions (ie: drinks 1,2, and 3) and the consequences suck. I am indescribably glad that I did not vomit on Dean or Jenna. I am also indescribably embarrassed that Dean had to see me like that, while he was sober, so he can't even dull the memory with alcohol. I have made rather an idiot of myself in front of the people whose respect I would wish, which is too counterproductive for words, really.
A lesson has been learned here, and learned rather painfully to boot, so I don't see this happening any time in the near future. (And even if I weren't so god damn embarrassed about the Dean-saw-me-vomit thing, well, the lingering nausea I dealt with today was just not fun.)
TL;DR: OH MY GOD, I CANNOT HOLD MY LIQUOR AND THAT'S SO EMBARRASSING
It started out ok. I met Jenna, we walked over to the party, there was a phase of awkward standing around as we waited for people to arrive. People arrived and the drinking commenced. So far, so good. I held back because I was planning on being mostly sober when I walked Jenna home. Needless to say... that didn't work out so well. More people came, though the boy from french was not among them, so I spent some time D-facing inside. I talked to Dean for a bit, and kind of milled around in that furtive way you do when everyone knows each other, and you don't know anyone.
Right, ok, interlude: the important thing about Dean, for the purposes of this story, is that he is an upper-year foilist who doesn't drink.
So Dean left for a while, and I thought he'd gone home for the evening. Not that I could blame him because really, who wants to spend their Saturday night taking care of drunk people while still completely sober?
Interlude the second: Dean is a masochist.
An hour or so later, Dean came back, saying he'd accidentally grabbed the wrong jacket. People were doing shots in a shot glass that was the equivalent of three (Hogaarden??). He said he planned to stay the evening, since he was already there, and told me that he would make sure Jenna and I got back to our respective residences safely. (Masochist, I told you.) After that conversation, secure in the knowledge that someone would be looking out for Jenna, I proceeded to get absolutely shitfaced. Michelle gave me a crash course in mixing drinks, which consisted of "If it smells good, it will probably taste good". So I had something involving whiskey, and half of Jenna's drink involving vodka (because she'd been cut off, seeing as walking was beginning to be a problem), and another drunk involving whiskey and plenty of syrup. There were also shots of vodka involved, and a few sips of a mysterious punch that the epeeists had brought. I'm getting sick just writing this (and I apologize if it's having the same effect on the reader), but let it be a lesson to my future self that THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA.
But ok, you get the point: lightweight+wayyy too much alcohol = NOT GOOD. I remember leaving the first voicemail for my parents, but not the second, and I don't remember having the conversation with Chloe at all. Apparently I get the urge to call people when I'm drunk. WTF. Anyway, basically there is a huge gaping hole in my memory from about 11:30 to when I woke up this afternoon. I know, from the evidence on my clothes and muddled flashes of recognition that I was sick at least once. I think what happened was that I threw up, and Dean and Jenna and probably Michelle brought me to COR (Campus Observation Room). I woke up there, at any rate, at about 6:30 am. I know this because I remember throwing up. I was still piss drunk. There was a woman there, thin with light brown hair, who sent me on my way. I had no fucking clue how to get out, and I remember leaning against a billboard on the wall, throwing up in the hallway, before stumbling miraculously out of Vic Hall and back to res. I crashed as soon as I got to bed, and didn't wake up until 12:30 this afternoon, when I realized my coat and cell phone were missing.
I managed to track down my phone - I'd left it at the house where the party had taken place - and I recently got an email from Michelle, saying that she has my coat. I actually had a disturbing number of emails in my inbox, asking if I was alright. It was terribly embarrassing, especially because I was so set on, y'know, not being drunk so that I could walk Jenna home. Yet I'm the one who ended up in COR.
So right now, I'm still trying to deal with the backlog of embarrassment and general "oh shit"-ness that comes with the situation. I did not actually throw up on anyone, but this is definitely not a high point in my life. I am supposed to be responsible and intelligent, so why did I think those drinks were a good idea? In the end, it comes down to the fact that I made a couple of bad decisions (ie: drinks 1,2, and 3) and the consequences suck. I am indescribably glad that I did not vomit on Dean or Jenna. I am also indescribably embarrassed that Dean had to see me like that, while he was sober, so he can't even dull the memory with alcohol. I have made rather an idiot of myself in front of the people whose respect I would wish, which is too counterproductive for words, really.
A lesson has been learned here, and learned rather painfully to boot, so I don't see this happening any time in the near future. (And even if I weren't so god damn embarrassed about the Dean-saw-me-vomit thing, well, the lingering nausea I dealt with today was just not fun.)
TL;DR: OH MY GOD, I CANNOT HOLD MY LIQUOR AND THAT'S SO EMBARRASSING