4:49 p.m. - 2003-11-02
i'll carve your pumpkin, beotch
Jesusfuck.
I should have gone with my plans to hit the Barn Burner rather than trot from Halloween party to Halloween party. The BB would have been far-off, peopled with strangers, drugged out as all get out, had a shit-ton of rad music with all the acts under heated tents (believe me, it was necessary).
Instead, I went to a couple parties and headed downtown, which was good for the most part, but I almost broke my fucking foot about five minutes after I put my elbow in someone else's vommit.
Important note: the jacket was essential to my Halloween costume. Because I was Elvis Costello. And I looked fucking badass. Grey, three-button blazer. Pink-striped shirt. Black tie. Grey, ripped jeans. Red sneakers. Horn-rim glasses. For thinking of it the day before, I thought it came off exceedingly well. The only detraction was...well, if I may toot my own horn...I was just too hot to be Elvis Costello.
So, it was late, and I was tired and had puke on me. On the way back to my car, I pigeon-toed into a manhole and righted myself by placing all my weight on the outside of my foot as I got back up. Owfuckingowowow. However, not an entirely unfamiliar experience, as I am a clumsy sumbitch. I figured I would be fine the next day and went to go lounge at my friends' house for the next three hours.
I should have known this Halloween would be a letdown, since the last two were great adventures:
'01: Paris - gunplay, partying all night, getting high with strangers, drinking unfathomable amounts, accidentally going to a sex club.
'02: Two-day celebration, the second day's finding me the most drunk I have ever been, waking up to discover I have rug burn on my face and vommit behind my bed.
The next day greeted me with unimaginable pain. First, I was switching off between whiskey and beer all night (will I never learn?) and second, my foot still hurt like a bastard. Also, my body woke me up via booze alarm around nine. My head hurt so badly I had to watch cartoons with close-captioning.
I met with the increasingly large boozy brunch crew, where we had the Best Brunch Ever. As much as it raised my spirits, I was still hung over for most of the day and concluded I was going to have to go to the real hospital and sidestep (snicker) the often nightmarish student health center.
It turned out to all be good news-y. My foot wasn't broken, my doctor was kind of hot and he prescribed me darvocet in spite of my giggling as soon as he mentioned prescriptions.
So last night, I discovered that drinking on medication you're not supposed to drink on is FUN, especially when you throw resin hits into the equation. Wheeee!
Anyway, I am panicking at the lateness of the hour. Must be off at once.
