And for a 48 hour period you feel like you are in the movie Trainspotting.
You all know what I’m talking about. Or actually for the sake of your body and also your mental/emotional health – I hope you don’t.
As the water pours over my feeble naked soul of a dead being – I try and lift my arms up to wash my hair and they’re shaking so bad I have to give up. So I do the next logical thing – pee in the shower and slowly slide to the tub floor. I slowly hug my knees and let the water pour over my face and eyes until I can’t see and as I shudder, I imagine the baby on the ceiling in Trainspotting and how I could have prevented all of this from happening…
Ok, time to flip a B – let’s go back to the beginning. It all started with the innocent promise of happy hour fun with some of the best tacos in San Francisco (disclaimer – I saw NO Mexicans in there – soooo there are better tacos out there. Don’t you dare say racist, everyone’s own culture knows the real deal.)
Well shit, it’s my lucky day because the happy hour special is $5 for a beer and a shot. Annnnnd bourbon and Kettle One happen to be options – clearly someone is out to murder my liver and cause me to do the rain dance. So I decide that I will take advantage of this offer 3 times over (naturally) and we move on to my friends house so they can change into ‘going out’ attire.
At this point in time, everything in my being is telling me to GTFO, I mean run for the goddamn hills, because there is a Tsumani of booze and drugs coming your way and you just might not make it. Against my better judgement, I stay and begin to drink more, since that is what happens when you go out with a bunch of savages who party like it is indeed – 1999.
For the sake of trying to reenact how crazy my night was – I will try to explain it like exactly how I experienced it.
Betches, shots! 1, 2, 3, 4 – wow it smells delicious, pot, pot, pot. Slores, these shots won’t drink themselves! 5, 6, 7, 8 – how does this look? hot girl parading in her bra and thong, another girl without a shirt. (did this become a no shirt Eyes Wide Shut party?!) Clothes on, clothes off – shoes, so many shoes, drunk red head falls and spills the vodka – time for another shot. 9. HEY GUYSSSSS we’re like 2 hours late to the house party. Pot, pot, one more shot. 10. House party, dudes – sweater vest (unacceptable unless you are Ryan Gosling), bourbon shot, a girl I dub see you next tuesday, skinny girl playing obscure music – I like her, I shall dance. Shot. 11. Girl with wedges takes a dive – is caught by hot guy who has a girlfriend – she’s there. Dirty stares. I dance between the awkwardness flailing wildly. I am brazen, I am awesome, I am super drunk. 11pm. Bars. Bar #1, can barely move, hot bro is talking to my friend, we make eye contact and I make a hideous face – he gives me a fist bump and buys me a drink. Idiot. I start dancing again, but don’t hear any music. Bathroom party. I write on the mirror with lipstick and laugh as I am being ushered into a stall. Unbelievable burst of energy. Photo shoot against the mirrors. So many exposed body parts. Too drunk to care. On the dance floor dancing like a Yeti trapped in a refrigerator box. So many lights. Prius. I’m in a black Prius and don’t know how I got here. Pull over! I yell, but it comes out like Poolz oer! Driver says we are almost there. Where? Home. Immediate laughter. I am being kidnapped, I am certain. Can’t keep my head up at all. ‘Ma’am’ we’re here, are you alright? NEVER FLUFFT BETTER I yell into the night. Face plant.
And now you know. It was epic. It was trying. I somehow managed to get home safe. My body will never be the same.
I think I’m going to like this town.
BODY HATES THIS.