I never cease to amaze myself. And this weekend was no exception. Let me continue to refer to this phenomenon as being a functional hot mess. It is rare that I go out these days with the intention of getting completely shit-faced, but I knew it was going to be inevitable with my favorite college pal/partner in crime in town. Looking back, for her twenty-first birthday I took her out for the promised “one drink only” because we both had our last final exam of our undergrad college career the following morning– Macroeconomics with the Sabi-nator. That “one drink only” turned into a six a.m. return to the dorms and about two hours of sleep until we literally crawled into the classroom. The exam was about ten pages in length– she and I barely completed the first page before we rushed out to visit the porcelain throne. We passed. And still don’t know how.
Back to my drunken amazingness. Do you ever wake up the next morning after a wild night out and think “how the heck did I do that?” Let me give a few examples:
- Take both of my contacts out oh-so-carefully and place them oh-so-delicately back into their little case and in their drawer respectively. How I can function at that detailed level and convince myself that I won’t go blind is beyond me.
- Prepare a meal. Scary, right? The kitchen was filled with a leftover mess. What was on the menu you ask? Homemade pesto pasta, vegetable soup and dark chocolate brownies. Eat your heart out inner fat kid.
- Dance as if I were auditioning for the next BET music video. That’s a vision that is quite difficult to imagine, I know. But it happened. At The Ruck nonetheless.
- Call just about every inappropriate person in my phone. I’m not talking about my friends that make “that’s what she said jokes” at every opportunity but those who I should never be calling at that hour. I’m kinda thankful I deleted over a hundred numbers this past week because the damage could have been a lot worse. But seriously, I called numbers that I didn’t even know existed when sober.
- Talk myself out of getting a tattoo. I really was contemplating getting my first one Saturday night but convinced myself otherwise. Dodged that bullet. Jona one, alcohol zero.
And a list of things that I wonder why I can’t complete when all of the others seem that much more complicated:
- Put the fresh roll of toilet paper on the holder. I managed to take the old one off, find a new roll (that was tucked away so high I would have had to get on top of the toilet to reach) but couldn’t manage to replace it. The sink was suffice I suppose.
- Brush my teeth. Am I afraid of falling face first into the floor and choking myself? Ugh, who likes waking up to dragon breath? Especially after eating a three course meal… c’mon inner health freak.
- Change into pajamas. Jeans are just so uncomfortable, especially when you’re sharing the bed. And restricting after eating a three course meal following a night out of ridiculous amounts of liquids.
I’m not saying this weekend was appropriate but sometimes you just need to bend the rules a little. And I’m thankful I had one of my closest friends by my side, especially as I was pop lock and droppin’ it.