People that know me, know that I like to have a drink from time to time. Jose Cuervo is my favorite but I'll drink just about anything. That being said, sometimes drinking doesn't go well.
I've never done anything like getting arrested or getting anyone pregnant while under the influence, but there have been quite a few unfortunate incidents.
My fist really bad drinking experience was when I had a few too many and got stuck on the toilet in the Burge Union during a party at KU. In my defense, this was back when I was taking shots of Bacardi 151 to the head like a champ. I lived literally across the street from the party so I thought I would be fine. Me and my girlfriend were "pre-partying" at the crib and having a great time...then I took that one shot for the road, knowing that there would be no drinks at this party. I got to the door, walking perfectly fine. By the time we got inside the party, around 11:00, my stomach felt like it was going to explode so I made a quick dash for the bathroom stall. I don't know how it happened, but after i did my business, I seemed to be getting drunker. Then I made the cardinal mistake of hanging my head...NEVER HANG YOUR HEAD. It is a sign of defeat and all of the alcohol filled blood rushes to you brain. 20 minutes later and one of my frat brothers bangs on the stall door. I assume it had been at least 20 minutes but time wasn't really registering for me. He looked over the stall door and goes "This nigga still got his pants down!" "I'm fine!" I yelled back. Well, it wasn't really a yell as much as a strong mutter.
He said Okay and left. I managed to pull up my pants but once again, hung my head and sat there. I don't know how much time had passed but when I came to reality I was sweating. I knew it was time to get home. Luckily, again my frat brother came to check on me. I managed to unlatch the door and the first thing that fool said was "I'm glad you got your pants up." I laughed and it was my first sign of life in God knows how long. He half carried me out of the bathroom and my over dramatic ass girlfriend was nearly in tears. Apparently she was convinced that I had died of alcohol poisoning with my pants down. The first thing I thought was "What the fuck is wrong with her?"
She took the carrying duties from my frat brother but I was gaining strength by then. I knew that I was 5 minutes away from flopping on my bed and that thought is really what carried me past all of the party goers, out the door and up to my apartment. My girl was a pretty good nurse, she gave me a little water to drink and I passed the hell out. The walk past all of my peers was probably the most shameful walk I've ever taken. It was a few weeks before I drank 151 again.
Sadly, this wasn't my last misadventure while under the influence. The most recent one was when my friend accidentally stabbed me in the head.
It was St. Patrick's day a few years ago. I had to work so when I got off, the house that I was renting with my friend was already full of drunks. I had to play catch up. Me and one of my then girlfriend's best friends made three trips to the liquor store and by that third trip, I wasn't exactly great at walking in a straight line. I knew I was getting tipsy because even after I had slept with my girlfriend in the bathroom while everyone was right outside the door, I was checking out her friend thinking, "If this girl tries to make a move, she's gonna get some of this." I know, that is a terribly trifling thing and I'd never do anything like that but Captain Morgan was giving me some terrible advice.
Fast forward, and while I'm checking out the scenery and enjoying the hell out of life, a fight breaks out. Me, being myself, I dive in and move to break it up. Now, I don't know when my roommate went and got a knife. I just remember dragging one of the combatants to the yard and putting him in some great wrestling move and talking him into calming down. Lucky for me, I grabbed the one that couldn't fight because he went down easily. Little did I know, my roommate had pulled out a butchers knife and was standing over us. Apparently when I went for the take down, he had accidentally poked me with the tip of the knife, right between the eye and the temple. It didn't hurt but oh did it bleed.
My poor girlfriend was in hysterics and I couldn't figure out why. When I got off of the dude in the yard, three cops had showed up to break up the party. Now, I'm sure they saw me bleeding and wrestling in the yard. What did they do? After I told them that it was all under control one of them said "Its cool man, just get everybody inside." They apparently weren't in the mood to do some policing that day.
My girl patched me up and I went to check out some of the homies in an upstairs bedroom. They were more worried about be because my cut looked worse than it was. I decided that I needed a smoke after all this so I was going to go get a Black & Mild from the store. I made it down the first step fine then I'm not sure what happened but I went down those steps feet first, hitting the back of my head several times. What was crazy was right at the bottom of the steps, I stuck the landing so well that Dominique Dawes would have been proud. Everybody looked down and asked if I was OK and I said "Super Staaaar!!!" And took a Mary Catherine Gallagher pose. My girlfriend again went into hysterics but I just left and got my smoke, bleeding and probably suffering a mild concussion.
Bloodied, battered and bruised, I returned to the porch, smoked my black and finished the rum. In about 20 minutes I was again feeling good.
What have we learned? I apparently like overly dramatic women. Also, if you're going to drink, make sure you have the kind of friends around you that carry you and not the kind that stab. Also, if you are going to take a shot for the road, make sure its not the kind of shit that can kill you. Last but not least, NEVER HANG YOUR HEAD.
I've never done anything like getting arrested or getting anyone pregnant while under the influence, but there have been quite a few unfortunate incidents.
My fist really bad drinking experience was when I had a few too many and got stuck on the toilet in the Burge Union during a party at KU. In my defense, this was back when I was taking shots of Bacardi 151 to the head like a champ. I lived literally across the street from the party so I thought I would be fine. Me and my girlfriend were "pre-partying" at the crib and having a great time...then I took that one shot for the road, knowing that there would be no drinks at this party. I got to the door, walking perfectly fine. By the time we got inside the party, around 11:00, my stomach felt like it was going to explode so I made a quick dash for the bathroom stall. I don't know how it happened, but after i did my business, I seemed to be getting drunker. Then I made the cardinal mistake of hanging my head...NEVER HANG YOUR HEAD. It is a sign of defeat and all of the alcohol filled blood rushes to you brain. 20 minutes later and one of my frat brothers bangs on the stall door. I assume it had been at least 20 minutes but time wasn't really registering for me. He looked over the stall door and goes "This nigga still got his pants down!" "I'm fine!" I yelled back. Well, it wasn't really a yell as much as a strong mutter.
He said Okay and left. I managed to pull up my pants but once again, hung my head and sat there. I don't know how much time had passed but when I came to reality I was sweating. I knew it was time to get home. Luckily, again my frat brother came to check on me. I managed to unlatch the door and the first thing that fool said was "I'm glad you got your pants up." I laughed and it was my first sign of life in God knows how long. He half carried me out of the bathroom and my over dramatic ass girlfriend was nearly in tears. Apparently she was convinced that I had died of alcohol poisoning with my pants down. The first thing I thought was "What the fuck is wrong with her?"
She took the carrying duties from my frat brother but I was gaining strength by then. I knew that I was 5 minutes away from flopping on my bed and that thought is really what carried me past all of the party goers, out the door and up to my apartment. My girl was a pretty good nurse, she gave me a little water to drink and I passed the hell out. The walk past all of my peers was probably the most shameful walk I've ever taken. It was a few weeks before I drank 151 again.
Sadly, this wasn't my last misadventure while under the influence. The most recent one was when my friend accidentally stabbed me in the head.
It was St. Patrick's day a few years ago. I had to work so when I got off, the house that I was renting with my friend was already full of drunks. I had to play catch up. Me and one of my then girlfriend's best friends made three trips to the liquor store and by that third trip, I wasn't exactly great at walking in a straight line. I knew I was getting tipsy because even after I had slept with my girlfriend in the bathroom while everyone was right outside the door, I was checking out her friend thinking, "If this girl tries to make a move, she's gonna get some of this." I know, that is a terribly trifling thing and I'd never do anything like that but Captain Morgan was giving me some terrible advice.
Fast forward, and while I'm checking out the scenery and enjoying the hell out of life, a fight breaks out. Me, being myself, I dive in and move to break it up. Now, I don't know when my roommate went and got a knife. I just remember dragging one of the combatants to the yard and putting him in some great wrestling move and talking him into calming down. Lucky for me, I grabbed the one that couldn't fight because he went down easily. Little did I know, my roommate had pulled out a butchers knife and was standing over us. Apparently when I went for the take down, he had accidentally poked me with the tip of the knife, right between the eye and the temple. It didn't hurt but oh did it bleed.
My poor girlfriend was in hysterics and I couldn't figure out why. When I got off of the dude in the yard, three cops had showed up to break up the party. Now, I'm sure they saw me bleeding and wrestling in the yard. What did they do? After I told them that it was all under control one of them said "Its cool man, just get everybody inside." They apparently weren't in the mood to do some policing that day.
My girl patched me up and I went to check out some of the homies in an upstairs bedroom. They were more worried about be because my cut looked worse than it was. I decided that I needed a smoke after all this so I was going to go get a Black & Mild from the store. I made it down the first step fine then I'm not sure what happened but I went down those steps feet first, hitting the back of my head several times. What was crazy was right at the bottom of the steps, I stuck the landing so well that Dominique Dawes would have been proud. Everybody looked down and asked if I was OK and I said "Super Staaaar!!!" And took a Mary Catherine Gallagher pose. My girlfriend again went into hysterics but I just left and got my smoke, bleeding and probably suffering a mild concussion.
Bloodied, battered and bruised, I returned to the porch, smoked my black and finished the rum. In about 20 minutes I was again feeling good.
What have we learned? I apparently like overly dramatic women. Also, if you're going to drink, make sure you have the kind of friends around you that carry you and not the kind that stab. Also, if you are going to take a shot for the road, make sure its not the kind of shit that can kill you. Last but not least, NEVER HANG YOUR HEAD.
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