I need one of those time machines for the sole purpose of erasing every drunk mistake I’ve made. Or I need to get married and have babies and never leave the house again.
Spirit Fest was a success, as usual, but I remember it being more fun in previous years. The whole affair is too popular now, and it’s hard to get drinks. Plus the amount of stunningly beautiful girls in the building – yowza! Hot boys? Not so much.
I got uncontrollably hammered, and wandered over to Dusk at 10 p.m. for a night of dancing. Mostly I ended up sucking face the entire night with Chef’s foreign friend, a guy I’m not the least bit attracted to and has uber creepy eyeballs.
What happened exactly? He fucking roofied me with cologne. There’s this certain cologne – I have no idea what it is – but it puts me over the EDGE. When I smell it, I forget everything that happens around me as I’m overcome with pure desire and longing and lust and bottled sexual RAGE. I assume it’s some rich kid aroma.
Anyway, in my cologne-induced haze, making out with him seemed like a good idea until I snapped back into reality and realized holy fuck I am not attracted to this guy. I literally ran away from him at the end of the night, leaving him very pissed off because I wouldn’t take him home. I completely destroyed my fucking Johnny Ruth dress by spilling drinks all over it. The dress was an absolute success though; I was the only person wearing a silk red one. Definitely using it to help me hook up next weekend at the wedding.
Tonight I sat around with THREE COUPLES and played a badass game of Blurt. I intended to be sulky about the matter, until my fierce competitive nature took over and I couldn’t help but join in. After three nights of binge drinking this week, I totally needed it.