The beginning of our story starts in west wilson...the dorm across the street. Fast forward slightly, and there we are, playing super mario (SNES rocks!) and taking shots of Burnettes. After taking about 8 or so shots in quick succession, I'm feeling it a little bit. The super mario gets put on hold, and we head across campus to a house party. An hour or two and 6-7 beers later I'm a little bit beyond the sensible drunkeness stage, and start doing stupid shit. My first mistake, was leaving the house. As i'm wandering around, no idea where I am and helplessly lost, I walk into a house. Or at least thats the first thing I remember. Inside the house are 4-5 people in the living room, passed out on their couchs. I think one or two of them might not have been comatose, but I don't really remember. I decide to sit down and chill with them for no apparant reason. After a small amount of time, I grow tired and want my bed across campus, and leave, deciding to trek back towards home. I do not remember much of the walk, but the next jump in my memory leads me to none other than....the police station. Not sure how, or why, i went there, but I indeed walked straight into the police station. As I walk up to the front desk, a young lady around maybe 20 years of age, is working the front desk and begins talking with me. I do not remember much of the conversation other than her asking me if I had been drinking or not and I stubbornly denying it. As I began to realize where I was, I started getting slightly scared. But alas! The story ends well. The girl at the front desk actually ended up not really caring that I had been drinking, looked up the number for the campus taxi company and called them up for me! A short while later, and a $3 taxi ride I don't remember and I'm back at home, passed out in my dorm room. I wake up the next morning to a strange ring tone. It is about 7 am and I look around my room, trying to figure out what happened last night. I look at my desk, and realize that my phone is gone, replaced with a nextel motorola phone. Shit. My hat (first hat I ever crochetted) is also gone to my great dissapointment. I call my phone, and no answer. Damn, I'm starting to feel kinda pissed, and am still very drunk. I pass out again, wake up a few hours later to the phone ringing, being called by my phone. Thank god! It turns out, the house I randomly walked into had it, and i had grabbed the wrong phone upon departing. They drove over to my dorm, we exchanged phones and I was invited to stop by anytime I'm in the neighborhood. Needless to say, it was a good night, and I was drunk most of the day. The hangover was a bitch.
You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on
(n.): Something that can be looked down on and approved of at the same time.