Fear me and my totally awesome blouse!
Oh yeah. ;D
And a better shot of the details, from the last time I wore the shirt.
Let me preface this story by saying that while I do enjoy alcohol, I am not a drunk. I generally get drunk about once a month, if that, and otherwise might have a beer every three or four days to unwind. Not a lot, compared to a lot of people my age, and I didn’t start drinking regularly until I was old enough to buy my own alcohol.
So I got this shirt from my mother as a gift last Christmas. When I picked it up out of the box I thought “egh, what is this, a tent?” and was not convinced of it. Until, that is, I tried it on. It was like magic, absolutely beautiful, flowy and sweet and perfect. I loved it as soon as I saw what I looked like in it. But I haven’t worn this shirt in about eight months, for one very specific reason.
You see, eight months ago was my friend Eva’s wedding. Eva is probably the only real friend I made in college (I was kind of a gigantic bitch the first couple years, and by the time I started improving everyone was done with trying to be nice to me except freshmen who didn’t know about my past), and I was very happy that she invited me to her wedding (I even got to sing in it). When my mother gave me the shirt, she told me she thought I could wear it at the wedding, and I was quite happy to do so. It’s just fancy enough to do for a wedding, and not too fancy to wear to work. So I wore it to my friend’s wedding, and everything was great.
Until that night.
You see, my friend Eva has an older sister. After the ceremony and the reception and a subsequent dinner (ceremony and reception were mid-day, ended around 4, so we were all hungry by the time it was done), she suggested that we go have a drink at the hotel bar (the hotel where the wedding and reception had been held, which was a very nice hotel). I, being exhilarated and feeling like partying, said that was a great idea. Eva’s bridesmaid (she only had one, it was a very nice, small ceremony) was also all for it, so the Sister, Sister’s Hub, and Bridesmaid and I went to start getting drinks (I am not naming names specifically to not embarrass anyone).
Well. We started out with a few cocktails, having fun, and then we realized it was going to be happy hour soon and things got kind of crazy. After I was quite drunk, I started asking Sister if she would mind taking me home, as I was too drunk to navigate the bus systems. Unfortunately, despite the fact that she had stopped drinking earlier, Sister was not ready to leave. Since Bridesmaid and Hubs were having a smashing time, they convinced me to not attempt to leave by myself (not that I could have afforded to catch a cab, I was pretty broke overall at that time). And the drinks kept being bought, and the alcohol flowed like water. Long story short, by the end of the night I was more drunk that I had ever been in my life, so much so that I wound up puking in the (very posh) hotel bathroom (while Hubs was puking in the men’s bathroom). At this point, Sister FINALLY figured she should take me and Hubs home. Of course, she didn’t have a car, so she borrowed Eva’s car (which luckily was at the hotel, since Eva and her new husband had the honeymoon suite there). Unfortunately for me, I was not done puking. In fact, I not only ended up puking in my good friend’s car, I puked all over myself AND her upholstery. Sister managed to get me in the front door of my accomodations (Eva’s apartment, I was cat and dog-sitting for her) and took the dog out, and I got my puke-encrusted blue shirt off and stuck it in a sinkful of water, then collapsed into my bed.
The next morning was one of the most embarrassing of my life. Not only did I have to explain to my dear friend why she had woken up with a missing car, but also why her cared smelled vile and at some point the cat hat managed to escape the apartment and gone missing. Luckily the cat was found in short order, and I just had to live with my shame (and a wicked hangover) for the rest of the day.
Rest assured, I haven’t gotten anywhere near that drunk since then, and may never again. Unfortunately, it did have one long-lasting side effect. Despite the fact that the shirt mercifully survived being puked all over (it washed out just fine), every time I look at it now I remember that night, and being too drunk to even lean over so I didn’t puke all over myself. Luckily, I can laugh at it now, but it’s still not a very pleasant memory, and it irks me that it happened to this shirt. It couldn’t have happened to the t shirt I brought from home that was ratty and useless. 9.9
The moral of the story is, don’t let anyone you barely know make your decisions for you, no matter how drunk you are. ;D
MirrorMe 