I was amazed, I mean uh-MAZED at how DRUNK I was Saturday night. My god. I seriously can’t remember the last time I was so inebriated that I couldn’t put together full sentences. At least it felt like I couldn’t put together full sentences, or at least coherent thoughts, on the drive home. Krissy, thanks for driving, by the way. I think that last T&T was still working it’s way through my veins even after you dropped me off, as I went inside the house and sat on the couch with S, A and D, and just seemed to get drunker… and drunkerer… and completely non-functional socially. S said I’m a scary-looking very drunk person. Apparently, I just go white as a sheet and all pasty looking. Ew. At one point I told everyone that I was going to go upstairs to see how the bathroom was doing. Y’know, just check it out. Didn’t even make it there, just went into my room and passed out on the bed. Woke up in the morning, fully clothed with a blanket thrown over me, on my side. Apparently, at some point, S had come in and rolled me over just to make sure I didn’t puke in my sleep and die. I didn’t think I was that bad, as I didn’t recall having the spins as I lay down, but still, that was awfully nice of her. She’s a good sport, she is.

I’ve come to a new theory about something: The Sandy Hut is BAD NEWS. There should be an “enter at your own risk” sign on that place. Now on, if I go there, I’m sticking to PBR. Fuckin-A.