She had never heard anyone puke that much...for such an extended period of time.

+=?


Reality hit me like a fucking brick to the noggin when I awoke March 13th feeling fresh and wreaking of legal drinking age. The previous evening had been spent drinking in the park, in part to honor tradition and partly because I had to wait till the clock struck 12 until I could try to enter a bar with my piece of paper driving permit that which is clearly labeled "NOT A VALID IDENTIFICATION." I was off to a classic start and possessed high hopes for getting drunk in a bar. Anyhoo, after meeting a Mexican man who was down on his luck and brushing up on some of my espanol (mi cumpleanos ir?) I went to a bar where I downed many whiskey sours without paying for anything. Which was good because my networth on my birthday was less than twenty dollars and I was unable to acess what little money I had. Maybe buying more gold teeph was a bad idea. But then again...maybe it wasnt. And then BOOM! lickity split I was blackout drunk with my legs through the arm holes of a t-shirt with a belt to keep the whole operation going strong. I ate some gross food that had apparently been sitting out for two days then threw up for about a half hour straight.

It was a good burfday. I didnt get beaten up and my mother didnt cry.