I was about to leave the apartment to take stuff to my car and make a Target run, when I thought about leaving a light on. I went to turn the light over the stove on which apparently doesn’t work now. So I just made a mental note to turn the light on by the door to make sure I don’t trip over any of our stuff when I walk back in. As I walked to the door in the dark with my hands full of bags and a to-go cup of coffee, while thinking about not tripping when I get back home, I hit the Christmas tree box, AGAIN as I mentioned the first time in my last post Packing is Pitiful. I tried to recover which resulted in me falling to my knees on top of the box and completely skinning my shins, and now I have two matching bumps and bruises and I have to wear a dress tomorrow… great. Just another day at Tragic Girl Headquarters. Ouch.
About a week ago I got to get dressed up with my four girlfriends, we call ourselves the Fab Five, and we went to support our sorority as respected alumnae at their philanthropy event: Theta Beta’s Sigma Kappa Ultra Violet Casino Night. It was fun to go to but the part we loved the most was dressing up, as usual. One of my girls and I are pretty much known as legends in our sorority, not to toot our own horn but toot-toot, because I was President and she was Executive Vice President and we made an amazing team together. I am not over exaggerating either, one of the girls told my dad this at Casino Night. Anyways after a night of faux blackjack and we felt that we had made a long enough appearance and took the appropriate amount of cute pictures in front of the letters, we left for the next portion of the night.
We were all going to head to a bar in the next city over but first I had to go pick up my boyfriend from daycare, aka- friends house where I dropped him off to watch the USC vs. UCLA game. As expected he was drunk already and by the time we made it to the bar he was asleep in the car. He woke right up though and was ready for a drink. We got inside and found the girls whose boyfriends and one husband also met up. My boyfriend asked what I wanted to drink and I said a Dirty Shirley which he responded to quite loudly that I wanted a whore. Like I said, he was drunk. One of the other girls had one and it was a nice small drink which was perfect because I was driving. Finally when he turned around with my drink it was in a straight up goblet. I asked him what he ordered?! He said that he told the bartender that he wanted a Dirty Shirley and to make her dirty, which is why I am assuming she gave him a giant one. There was no way I was going to be able to drink all of it and drive home so it became a group thing with my roomie and one of the other girls.
After drinking my very Dirty Shirley we decided it was time to go as did everyone else. We would all see each other the next day anyways for our Friendsgiving. I drove my boyfriend and I back to my place, where he sat in the back so he could pretend I was a chauffeur, and he fell asleep again. By this time I had been in my heels for hours and my feet were in pain so I was so happy to finally be home. We were almost there, almost to the door when it happened. Mayday-mayday I was going down and I couldn’t stop it. My heel went on a wet leaf, which then slid into the drain in the parking lot and I ate it. I couldn’t catch my balance because I was holding my purse and another bag so I went right down on my knee. The drunk, non-helping boyfriend laughed and then asked if I was okay, and then laughed again. Bruised and bleeding, I would be the SOBER one who falls down. Typical Tragic Girl.