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I want to chronologize some stuff that I don’t remember for two reasons: 1) I did some funny shit and 2) I’m kind of hoping writing this will scare me out of drinking tequila ever again. Hey Mom–you can’t read this.

For the following paragraph, it should be understood that the word “Apparently” could easily start each and every sentence as this is all speculation as well as my report of my roommate’s report of my actions. Let me set the stage a little: before we left my apartment, I was about 3/4 of the way through Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (that’s year 7 for all you muggles). My roommate and I then went to  a birthday party for two of my friends. The party started out with me, my roommate and eight girls. As the night wore on, perhaps mostly just around 10PM, something like 20 dudes showed up. Also, I remember a friend of the hostess asking if the other birthday girl could use my tequila for a birthday shot, I said, “Yes” and I opened my eyes on the F train next to what appeared to be a she-male in Brooklyn. The party was on 86th Street in Manhattan. Finally, on a scale of one to White, I’m definitely a 10.

I know it’s still not OK if everyone else is white too, but I started announcing that there were “too many [n-word]s, not enough hos.” My roommate of course alerted me that it was not okay to use the n-word but I assured him that it was okay for me since many of my black co-workers had dubbed me “an honorary [n-word].” Later, the hostess told me that it was every girl’s dream to meet her husband in the grocery store while she’s not wearing any makeup. This set me off and I lectured her on the importance of being a gentleman to such an extent that my roommate decided it was time to leave. I collected my miniature liquor cabinet that I had brought with me so I could fix myself my own personal Confundo Charm/Obliviate! Spell and was led out of the apartment where I met up with my mortal enemy, the stairs. I somersaulted down the first set and allowed the bottles to scatter. My roommate took over the bottle-carrying department while I, using the best of my decision-making skills, refused help on the next set and used an imaginary sled instead. It was colder than Voldemort’s heart that night and I fumbled while putting on one of my gloves. I already had the other on, dropped the second and, when asked if we should go back and pick it up, I refused and insisted that it was “too late.” I then admitted that I thought my roommate’s girlfriend was awesome and that I wish I could play Scrabble with her all the time (English is her second language and she’s…well, better at it than I am). I met up again with that asshole, stairs, and continued to lose battles to him and then made enemies with a new challenger, floor. I fell down while standing in place on multiple occasions while waiting for the subway train. Meanwhile, I decided that my roommate was Ronald Weasley and that our lives were in mortal danger if we got onto the train. I declared everyone besides the two of us “Muggles” and “Mudbloods” and screamed in fear while pointing at all of them. When the train finally came, Ronald dragged me on but I slipped off at the last second while he, metaphorically, shat a brick. I saluted him and set of on important adventures amongst the muggles.

Now let me try to walk you through my thoughts when I regained consciousness. Oh, that’s nice, that’s the city outside the subway windows. How did I get here? I remember a birthday shot…well, this looks like the three so I’m probably on my way back home. What stop is this? 15th? What the hell is this? What train is this? This is the F? When the fuck have I ever ridden the F and why does this lady next to me have a moustache? Did she and I…no, that’s not possible…I don’t want to get up to check the map and figure this out. Then people would know I have no idea what’s going on. I’m just going to get off here. I’m where? 7th Ave? Oh, god, how’d it get so fucking cold? It’s 4AM? This map says I’m…on the wrong side of Prospect Park. I’m not waiting for the train for an hour. I’m going upstairs…Holy shit I know where I am. That’s my friend’s house and that’s the bar where my friends say a bunch of firemen hang out. Where the fuck are my gloves? Well, I have my iPod…no, now’s not the time for that song. Alright, cool. I just want to be in my bed. I don’t see any cabs…I don’t know any cab numbers…I’m not getting back on the subway… And I started running. I’m not cold now…no, I need a better song than this…how the fuck did this happen? And halfway through, why the fuck didn’t I ask my friends for help? Oh shit–should I go back? No, I’m already halfway there and this song’s kinda my jam right now. Let’s do this. I finally made it back and sat down on the doorstep. Oh fuck, I can’t ever do that again. I think I need to eat more or something. Definitely pass on the tequila, too. I can’t keep sitting here, I’m getting cold again. Well, at least I didn’t throw up. Nope, there it is. Sorry, dead plants. What time is it? 5? Fuck it, Im’ going to take a bath. Hottest water ever. I appear to have slept in the tub until approximately 9AM, waking up at intervals to add hot water. My roommate discovered me alive and in my bed at 12:30PM and we exchanged horror stories. We agreed that this was easily the worst Friendship Test my subconsious had ever devised and we both spent the day drinking excessive amounts of water, eating and watching TV.


One Comment

  1. Corrections:

    1) You dropped your glove on the subway steps. When asked if you wanted it, you said that “it was lost in battle.”

    2) I managed to keep you on the train when the doors first closed. All the while you were shouting about how you couldn’t stay on the train with all the mudbloods, sufficiently freaking out all the mudblooded passengers. It was the first stop where I wrestled to keep you on and you wrenched away just as the doors were closing.

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