To be fair, I posted about the husband’s time being wasted so now it’s my turn to share one about me. That’s right, she who rarely drinks has gotten WASTED once. If you’ve been reading these, you can rule out my 21st birthday as the culprit. Instead, it was my 23rd birthday that got me.
It was Wednesday, and I was officially 23. I decided to meet up with my friend Alisha for a Chocolate Shot and then call it a day. What I did not know, was my husband found out and well, when I entered the local bar it was filled with my friends and a lot of his friends. So, the drinks started coming from all around.
After my Chocolate Cake shot, something the bartender called Skittles, and a couple of bombs we moved to the table. I can’t recall why or how, but suddenly I found myself playing drunken trouble with all our pals. Feeling fantastically belligerent, I was re-popping everyone’s crappy pops. More drinks hit the table in honor of my 23rd birthday and soon I had to visit the Ladies’ room.
It was the most wobbly walk I have ever felt. I distinctly remember taking in a big breath of air and holding it on this walk as if this could stabilize the walk. Alisha was following me, insisting she should help me but I felt confident I was fine! I went into the bathroom, laughed at my drunken reflection, and that’s when my memory stops. Now I move into random audio recording mode.
I can’t open my eyes, but I can hear the conversation as I feel myself bouncing on a familiar shoulder.
“Dammit, where are the keys?” I hear Justin grumble. “I know I saw them…”
“You need me to go check the bar?” It was his pal Lou following close by. “I can go back in-”
“I have them!” I threw my arms out as I exclaimed happily, still unable to open my drunken eyelids. “But I can’t drive!”
The sound of the back of the pickup dropping squeaked in my ears as I was laid across the cold metal. Hands fiddled at the shorts (I was wearing a pair of the husbands) and I think I was giggling or shouting, “No you can’t have your pants back!”
Nothing…. I don’t remember leaving the back of the pickup or if he got the keys off…
Again, the audio kicks back in.
“Yea, we’ll just lay her on the floor of the bedroom for now” It’s the husband, so i giggle some and hear Lou laugh in response to it.
I can feel someone holding me up from under my arms and another person carrying my legs. For some reason I can tell I’m in the kitchen even though I still cannot open my eyes. Then again, I wonder if it just never recorded the visual information at this stage. Despite all this, I realize my pants are loose and my ass cheeks are starting to slide out.
“My pants are falling off!” I laughed and started calling my brother-in-law/roommate to aid us. “Jeremy! Help! I’m big as a whale and my pants are falling off!”
Don’t ask, it’s what I remember yelling and then Lou dropping me on the kitchen floor.
Once more, the bleakness void of no memory swallows me here.
Suddenly, birds chirping outside made me realize I had missed work. Coming to, I was on the floor on my belly hanging halfway out of my bedroom bathroom. Next to me was the torches my husband uses for work and welding. Confused, I see him passed out on the floor as well.
“Justin, what happened?” I shook him, already feeling sick from drinking too much.
“You stopped breathing, I swear…” He mumbled in his sleep.
I spent the day paying tribute to the porcelain god. It is safe to say I never got remotely close to being this drunk ever again (to date at least.)