Just another night

This story should've been posted a long time ago. In fact, it was originally written more than a month ago. But alas, I return from my hiatus from blogging, and I bring you a fun little story about my being stupid. (I know. When will I get some original material?)

The night before returning from winter break, I did something unusual--for me, at least. I went to a party where I knew only three people and liked even fewer. And I was social. I got along with everyone.

Of course, I wasn't social until I started drinking. I drank far too much. I couldn't even tell you the grand total. The night started with whiskey and diet pepsi (I was chasing other drinks with this combination; and, as tends to happen, the drink kept getting stronger throughout the night), then there were recreational shots of tequila, rum, and other whiskeys, plus all of the shots incurred as part of a drinking game.

That isn't the noteworthy part of the night though. It wasn't until I was sitting on the porch with my sister the following morning (three cheers for the beautiful December weather, thanks to global warming) that I started having flashbacks of my ridiculous behavior. And I just sat there, doubling over with laughter.

What did I do? Oh, what could be so far from my normal level of idiocy? I'll tell you.

Remember that I started the night knowing almost no one. They were all friends of my stepbrother, and they knew me only as "the other sister."

By the end of the night, I had a personal bartender, personal handwarmers, a personal escort, and a personal cuddler.

But what does that mean?

Bartender. People brought various drinks with them, and they were being a bit protective of their alcohol. But for me, they were offering to share, having me taste test pretty much everything--hence the tequila, rum, whiskeys. . . yeah.

Handwarmers. My hands are always cold. And I hate it when my hands are cold. But rather than putting my hands in my pockets or any other reasonable option, all I had to do was lift my hands in the air and my personal handwarmers, standing dutifully on either side of me, would lovingly warm my hands with their own. It was hilarious. These two guys did whatever I said.

Escort. One of those two guys followed me nearly everywhere I went. And that meant I had an arm to hold, someone to carry my drink, and someone to make sure I was alright at any given point. It also meant that at some point they decided it was my bedtime.

Cuddler. My stepbrother was the one who told me to go to bed, and even took my shoes off my feet. (I felt like a toddler.) But then, after I had been tucked into bed, I decided for no reason that I was going to refuse to stay in bed unless someone cuddled with me until I fell asleep. So that's what they did. One of the guys, who I had met only a few hours earlier, dutifully climbed into the bed and left a few minutes later. (As my roommate will attest, I can fall asleep in a ridiculously short amount of time.)

But, it gets even better. I thought the guy just left after I fell asleep. No. He didn't. My stepbrother informed me a couple days later than about fifteen minutes after they went back downstairs to continue drinking, they heard a loud thud. Then my person cuddler came trotting downstairs. "Dude, what happened?" "I don't know! She was snoring, and then, out of nowhere, she rolled over and with fuckin' superhuman strength, she shoved me outta bed!" Hence, the thud.

Yeah. I am amazing. And idiotic. And moronic. And a terrible drunk.

Ugh.

What the fuck was I thinking?