This year started out so well. It really did! But it didn’t take long for things to take a sharp left turn and spiral quickly toward the gutter. As usual.
I rang in 2012 as the Designated Driver on the way home from watching my beloved Auburn Tigers kick some butt in the Chick-Fil-A Bowl on New Year’s Eve. That’s right: other people actually entrusted me with the responsibility of getting everyone home safely. And by "other people", I mean my brother. Who, by the way, was so completely shitfaced that he accused a woman wearing blue flashing novelty glasses of trying to pull him over for "walking under the influence" and then handed his phone to a homeless person and asked him to take a picture of us posing with a stadium trash can. Haven’t seen the picture yet, but I’ll be sure to share it once I do. I’m sure it’s quite tasteful.
So how did I go from responsible driver on Jan 1 to recipient of a tetanus shot, two bouts of different antibiotics for unrelated injuries, five stitches, and being the idiot whose friends have to steal her car keys from her purse and then force her into their car Patty Hearst-style to prevent her from driving drunk by Jan 30? It defies explanation, although the Margarita Machine that Jeff gave me for Christmas is a contributing factor.
In my defense, the car keys situation was an isolated incident - I’m normally very cautious about getting behind the wheel. I should have realized that it’s none too smart to spend a few hours in a bar immediately after attending the funeral for a high school friend, five days after the anniversary of my Mother’s death and six months after I lost my Dad. Combine that with a group of high school friends sending drink after drink my way (vodka with a splash of cranberry, anyone?), and it’s the perfect recipe for bad decisions. And I’ll never live down the fact that FRT was the responsible party in this situation (well, Mrs. FRT, actually). When FRT tells you you’re too drunk...you’re way past the point of no return. I should have known better.
The stitches, tetanus shot & antibiotics, however, are all on me (compliments of the aforementioned Margarita Machine). I make no excuses.
At this rate, 2012 is going to be EPIC!
UPDATE (You're welcome):
UPDATE (You're welcome):
Bad decisions are excellent tool for what not to do in the future. That's the best I've got.
ReplyDeleteI would LOVE a Cape Cod (cranberry and vodka - mmmmm) right now! It's only 1 here, too.
Hope you're feeling better, and I'm glad you're relatively well!
I'm pretty sure that in all my years of drinking, FRT has never told me that I'm too drunk. He was usually vomiting or peeing his bed at that point. Mrs. FRT, on the other hand, has actually seen to it that I was nearly too drunk to live. And she may have peed my pants - we're not sure.
ReplyDelete@Hoss: I continue to blame your delightful mother for my drunken escapade. Somehow I just *know* it's all her fault!
DeleteWhat's wrong with me? I didn't even think she was all that drunk. Tipsy. Not in a condition to drive all the way back to where ever it is she lives, but not hammered. Maybe I was drunk.
DeleteI didn't realize I was drunk until I stood up. Trust me. I was beyond wasted. And I'm never drunk (seriously, it's genetic). And I stand behind my claim that those drinks were stroooooong!
Deletewow.
ReplyDeletegood times LAB.
i didnt mention it, but well done to your tigers. nothing is more fun than being at a game where your team is kicking all the ass.
Also, why weren't we bffs in high school? I do not get that at all.
ReplyDeleteI wasn't fun in high school. Trust me! I took myself waaaayyyy to seriously!
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