Here’s a story. (mostly true)
A few nights ago I went to a party with a few of my friends. I started drinking with no intentions of getting completely trashed. Maybe I smoked a little, maybe I didn’t. Who’s to say really.
Anyway. I had a nice buzz going when I overhear this conversation:
Guy 1: You should of got some Smirnoff or something for the girls.
Guy 2: There’s only like 3 chicks here.
Guy 1: True. At least now they won’t drink our shit.
Guy 2: Yeah. Bitches don’t drink Jack Daniels straight.
At which point I took an interest in the conversation and walked over.
Long story short, they claimed I couldn’t chug Jack because I have a vagina. And I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.
So I chugged about half of their brand new, just opened bottle. To prove a point.
That point was….hell I don’t remember. I had already had 3 or 4 shots of Jager before the whole Jack thing happened and I had only been at the party an hour.
I’d tell you the rest of the story, but I can’t remember it. I could tell you what people said happened after I blacked out. I’m not going to though. Because I highly doubt the truthfulness of what they say.
And if I don’t remember it, it didn’t happen.
Moral of the story: If your boyfriend calls you at 4 a.m. wondering where the fuck you are and why you aren’t home, the proper answer is not to scream “I’m at the tennis courts. There’s a bear and I’m trapped! Send help.” Cause even he isn’t that dumb. Unless he is. In which case, carry on.