Mysterious drunken injuries
They're really the best kind of drunken injuries, aren't they? What's the fun in injuring yourself while drunk if you can remember it? Anyway, Saturday morning I woke up and noticed this:
It took some thinking, but I now believe I know how it occured. Sabrina's going away party was Friday night at Randa's. There was 151 present (it's like kryptonite!), as well as Cazadores (mmm...). I remember having two shots of tequila and two shots of windex, and eight or so beers seems like a realistic estimate, but I felt far drunker than that.
So Michele was hanging out close to the toilet, and I laid down in the bathroom and was talking to her. Randa came in to check on Michele and had to step over me, and warned me to close my eyes, as she was wearing a skirt. As a display of good faith, I moved my arm to cover my eyes, apparently at the same time as she was trying to step over me. Her heel caught my arm, and that is when I think the injury was inflicted.
In retrospect, I could probably think up a much better story involving shots, stiletto heels, and bodily injury—a better, sexier story.
I didn't intend to get that drunk, but rather to properly enjoy the excellent company. Once again, I learn that high-proof liquors are not to be trifled with.
I hadn't expected Sabrina's exit to have a big impact on me, since I made my own move away from Waco a year ago, but knowing that she was leaving made me sad. Part of it is that with her exit, most of my Waco life is gone for good. Another thing is that being around my good friends, it reminds me how far I still have to go with people here in Houston. Mainly, though, Sabrina, I'll miss being able to see you whenever I spend a weekend in Waco.
Things listened to in the car on the drive home:
Modest Mouse: Everywhere and His Nasty Parlour Tricks
The Polyphonic Spree: Together We're Heavy
Fountains of Wayne: Welcome Interstate Managers
Belle & Sebastian: Dear Catastrophe Waitress
It took some thinking, but I now believe I know how it occured. Sabrina's going away party was Friday night at Randa's. There was 151 present (it's like kryptonite!), as well as Cazadores (mmm...). I remember having two shots of tequila and two shots of windex, and eight or so beers seems like a realistic estimate, but I felt far drunker than that.
So Michele was hanging out close to the toilet, and I laid down in the bathroom and was talking to her. Randa came in to check on Michele and had to step over me, and warned me to close my eyes, as she was wearing a skirt. As a display of good faith, I moved my arm to cover my eyes, apparently at the same time as she was trying to step over me. Her heel caught my arm, and that is when I think the injury was inflicted.
In retrospect, I could probably think up a much better story involving shots, stiletto heels, and bodily injury—a better, sexier story.
I didn't intend to get that drunk, but rather to properly enjoy the excellent company. Once again, I learn that high-proof liquors are not to be trifled with.
I hadn't expected Sabrina's exit to have a big impact on me, since I made my own move away from Waco a year ago, but knowing that she was leaving made me sad. Part of it is that with her exit, most of my Waco life is gone for good. Another thing is that being around my good friends, it reminds me how far I still have to go with people here in Houston. Mainly, though, Sabrina, I'll miss being able to see you whenever I spend a weekend in Waco.
Things listened to in the car on the drive home:
Modest Mouse: Everywhere and His Nasty Parlour Tricks
The Polyphonic Spree: Together We're Heavy
Fountains of Wayne: Welcome Interstate Managers
Belle & Sebastian: Dear Catastrophe Waitress
posted by L. Maxwell Ward at 10:59 PM
