Archive for the 'hangover' Category

My car isn’t in my driveway.

I woke up this morning in my comfy bed butt-ass naked with a towel on my head.

(How was that for an opening line? )

What the hell did I do last night?

Last night was Erin’s 22nd birthday. So, to celebrate we went to see Juno (hilarious, btw)  and then we went to this fabulous restaurant in Mystic, AZU. It was a night to celebrate Erin and was designed to be filled with delicious desserts and very expensive drinks, because we love her and we like to feel classy and chic on our minimum wage working- college girl budgets. We started with a shot.  Thanks waiter…all his idea. Then that was followed by a martini for each of us. Followed by dessert. Followed by 3 more martini’s and two more shots. Which was then followed by the biggest tab I have ever had to pay in my life. Fabulous. I’m probably going to be sick just from writing that….

And we weren’t done. We then made our way down to the Irish pub. I believe I had a cider here…this is where it apparently hits me and hits me hard. We ran into a high school friend at the pub, which was nice. I remember at one point singing Stevie Wonder’s version of “Happy Birthday” and impressing the older people at the pub with the fact that I knew it. Go me. I am so thoroughly embarrassed for myself.

Do I remember walking to Megan’s car? Nope. Not at all. (and don’t worry, Megan was our DD)  Do I remember how I got into my house last night? Nope. Not at all. Do I remember sticking my head out of Megan’s window to puke? Ehhhhh. Yes. Do I remember taking a shower and being in a lot of dumb drunken pain—and crying for my mom? Ehhhh. Yes. Vaguely.

So this morning at 8 a.m. I received two texts from Mifflin: “WAKE UP RIGHT NOW” Ehhhhhhhhhhhh, I’m hurting so bad what could he want?  Apparently I called him 3,444 times and sent him blank texts. Awesome. At least some of might was coming back to me at this point…mostly the fact that I needed to put on some clothes…

I looked in the bathroom. Clothes everywhere. Bra in the shower. Water still running, a little bit. Al Gore and Leo would be pissed, please don’t tell them.

Clearly, I am a disaster.

I head downstairs for water and to shove a slice of bread down my throat, a savior in these kinds of situations. I explained my “story” or lack there of to my mom. She laughed at me, made sure I had a DD…oh, mom… and told me to go back to sleep. Yes, ma’am.

Back into bed. I told Mifflin to wake me up at 10, he called I explained what I could/ apologized for being an annoying drunk, he laughed and said I didn’t drink that much (No Mifflin, I drank too much, don’t do that kids– it’s 8 p.m. and I am still in pain) and then called Megan.

Megan informed me that they brought me into my house. Through the back door. Apparently we couldn’t open the garage door. After checking my cell phone I realize why…I “called” my garage door in an attempt to open it. Yes, I dialed the code to open the garage door on my cell phone. Ehhhhhhhhhhh. LB. Clearly that wasn’t going to work out.

Megan also told me that she drove our high school friend home…he lives in the next town over…I totally missed that event.  She also let me know that my car was still at Erin’s. I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHERE MY CAR WAS. I just figured it was in the driveway. It was not.

Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I have yet to pick the Vdub up. I should get on that.

I hope you had a much classier weekend.

I am really debating erasing this post now…ehhhh please don’t judge me! Maybe this will get some of you to share your worst/best hangover stories…maybe?!

Once again, lesson (s) learned.

Sailor Girl Has Nothing On Me

Honestly.

That chick has nothing on me.

I couldn’t write about her and then not share some of my classy college moments as well. We, here in Happy Valley, go hard or go home (this usually involves a slice of canyon pizza, drunken bus ride or the infamous walk-of-shame displayed by our very own Sailor Girl).

So, in a weird way I can understand her…although I pick good friends who will drive me home in the morning OR would allow me to borrow some sweatpants and a sweatshirt—yes, girlfriend there are ways to make your walk of shame easier and slightly less embarrassing. (Read the comments from my last post to get a great and very embarrassing story of my Aunt’s!)

I am no walk-of-shame professional. However, I am the queen of really bad and ridiculously embarrassing hangover stories. Look, I am not a fan of puke stories by any means but over the years that is how I have come to embarrass myself best.

Freshman year my parents came up for a make-shift parents weekend. Saturday night of this weekend I decided to go out after they went back to the hotel. Do I remember what went down that night?! Nope. But I am pretty sure I had a great time by the way I felt the next morning. My parents came by to take me out to breakfast and hang out before they headed back home but could I eat breakfast? Nope. That wasn’t going to happen. And good thing I didn’t because while shopping for Penn State gear I had to make a pit stop with my dad IN FRONT of Old State Clothing or whatever its called (the one with the big Lion doors that ROAR when you enter, you know, you know!). In a desperate search for a garbage can I puked in front of my dad, shoppers, employees and COLLEGE (FREAKING) AVENUE. Let’s keep in mind I was a freshman—I was classy from the very beginning. There is no better way to say goodbye to your parents your first semester of freshman year and make them feel proud to have raised such a responsible young adult. Good thing my parents know how to laugh. At me. While still taking care of me. Thanks guys!

Then…

Junior year I woke up excited to go Christmas tree shopping with my roommates and Sally’s family for our apartment. I also woke up hung over. The only thing I wanted: a milkshake. I had chocolate milk instead and started to feel better. Sally’s family came over to pick us up in the Suburban and head out on our Christmas tree adventure. We arrived at our first destination. At that point I needed some serious AIR. After walking around in the fresh PA air I was feeling soooo soooo soooo much better. Or so I thought. I rode shot- gun with Sally’s dad and we headed to a Christmas tree farm. This was going to be a 10 minute drive. About 5 minutes in I started to get hot and cracked the window. Then I had to make a decision. Puke in your purse OR attempt to roll down the window and hang your head outside the car. I did not have time for either option. How about I puke everywhere instead? Great plan…mission accomplished. Chocolate milk. That’s all I can say about that. So we end up pulling over and I have to strip down and sit in the back of the car while everyone else shops for Christmas trees wrapped in a blanket with the worst migraine and without pants.

You better be laughing right now.

So there are my two very unattractive very “collegiate” stories. I just couldn’t take it all out on walk-of-shame girl, we’ve all been there.

And if you haven’t, you are missing out.

Even if you end up without pants in front of your roommate’s family the story (someday) will totally be worth it.