I wasn't a drinker in high school, unlike most of you heathens, so I learned everything I know about drinking in college. Well except for that short little span of unruliness when I was eleven. But let's keep chubby Tina out of this. I had some pretty solid fake IDs in college, plus there were of course your standard college dive bars, that let anything with boobs drink, so you would think turning 21 wouldn't be that big of a deal. Oh, but it was. First, I grabbed some dinner with my college roomies/two of my favorite people in the entire world.
Everything was great. The drinks. The dinner. The company. But then I made the mistake of meeting up with some friends who drink to a level that will or has already landed them on Intervention.
Tina! You're not drunk enough, chug that drink!
Tina! Rap Jenna a song!
Tina! Pick your head up! You can't sleep at a bar!
Tina! Go talk to some strangers!
Tina! Even better idea! Let those strangers touch you!
Tina! Just go to sleep wherever you want.
And that's all I have for you. Of course this was going to be nothing but pictures. I woke with a slight limp and a black and blue forehead. You can thank my lovely roommates for that. That's what happens when you live with two girls who barely come up to your shoulders and weight eight pounds a piece and you're still built like the damn soccer goalie that you were. They couldn't so much carry me to bed as they could shove me door. So I guess you can really thank whoever designed our apartment and put the kitchen counter so damn close to the front door. Anyway, I woke up in my bed in that cute little outfit and thought everything went fine, but when when I tried to tell somebody that over the phone, Jenna come charging out of her bedroom yelling 'Are you fucking kidding me?!". If you know Jennas, you know she doesn't know how to charge or curse. Apparently I was 18 kinds of a handful and I'm pretty sure the apartment complex had to pressure wash their parking lot due to a few mind erasers not agreeing with me and coming back up. Lovely.
Either way, I survived. That was also my first black out. I'm not entirely sure if that was from alcohol or the possible concussion.
Moral of this story: Live with people who are bigger than you so they can carry you to bed.
Everything was great. The drinks. The dinner. The company. But then I made the mistake of meeting up with some friends who drink to a level that will or has already landed them on Intervention.
Tina! You're not drunk enough, chug that drink!
Tina! Rap Jenna a song!
Tina! Pick your head up! You can't sleep at a bar!
Tina! Go talk to some strangers!
Tina! Even better idea! Let those strangers touch you!
Tina! Just go to sleep wherever you want.
And that's all I have for you. Of course this was going to be nothing but pictures. I woke with a slight limp and a black and blue forehead. You can thank my lovely roommates for that. That's what happens when you live with two girls who barely come up to your shoulders and weight eight pounds a piece and you're still built like the damn soccer goalie that you were. They couldn't so much carry me to bed as they could shove me door. So I guess you can really thank whoever designed our apartment and put the kitchen counter so damn close to the front door. Anyway, I woke up in my bed in that cute little outfit and thought everything went fine, but when when I tried to tell somebody that over the phone, Jenna come charging out of her bedroom yelling 'Are you fucking kidding me?!". If you know Jennas, you know she doesn't know how to charge or curse. Apparently I was 18 kinds of a handful and I'm pretty sure the apartment complex had to pressure wash their parking lot due to a few mind erasers not agreeing with me and coming back up. Lovely.
Either way, I survived. That was also my first black out. I'm not entirely sure if that was from alcohol or the possible concussion.
Moral of this story: Live with people who are bigger than you so they can carry you to bed.
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